Heroes of Annihilated Empires

That is why I write – to try to turn sadness into longing, solitude into remembrance. ― Paulo Coelho, By the River Piedra I Sat Down and Wept

Each person a collected marble every memory of them a tumbled stone like heroes of annihilated empires
Each person a collected marble, every memory of them a tumbled stone like heroes of annihilated empires.  Randstein

He sat silent at the table, his coffee hot and bitter.  He looked up to collect his runaway thoughts then continued to read an old book.  Around him life moved near light speed in tweets to Twitter.  Facebook connected ten thousand souls to only ten distracted minds that milled around in half-dazed skulls.  Next to him sat a woman. He knew in her day she was someone else’s love. Her hair was near solid gray, well dressed in blue, white, and spotless shoes.  She read a book he once read, perhaps thirty years ago. Continue reading “Heroes of Annihilated Empires”

STICKS and STONES by Topaz Winters

One’s dignity may be assaulted, vandalized and cruelly mocked, but it can never be taken away unless it is surrendered. ― Michael J. Fox

Rose and Stone
“I sometimes pretend I’m a Phoenix” – Topaz Winters, from Sticks and Stones

 

It’s my pleasure to bring you another poem submitted by Topaz Winters. Her poem takes us inside the maelstrom of a wounded spirit stuck between feeling the reality of unrelenting anguish from abuse, trauma, abandonment, and the dream of love and life as first imagined. The journey to healing is never swift or without setbacks captured in the line, “I sometimes pretend I’m a phoenix.” Topaz’s advocacy for survivors and awareness is greatly appreciated.  Topaz offered her poem as a tribute to the readers and authors that know abuse and trauma all too well. Thank you for your continued support, Topaz.  And now, dear reader, I submit to you, Sticks and Stones by Topaz Winters. Continue reading “STICKS and STONES by Topaz Winters”

LITTLE CREEK

Love is an untamed force. When we try to control it, it destroys us. When we try to imprison it, it enslaves us. When we try to understand it, it leaves us feeling lost and confused. ― Paulo Coelho

Little Creek

Love is an untamed force.  Indeed.  I’ve spent a lifetime trying to understand it and in the end realized that the torture of asking why, what if, and if only served to deepen the wounds of memories whose sharp rusted edges tear and bruise one’s heart and spirit each moment they live above the surface of that restive cauldron that never cools.  I’ve realized that it’s the mind that eventually falters and in time the pitted patina of our youthful losses fade into a gray-blue surreal scene with black edges and dark contrasts.  Peace comes when the mind hears and no longer recognizes the sound of that first anguished cry.   Continue reading “LITTLE CREEK”

The End of War

This is a repost of a chapter from one of my short stories.  It wasn’t very popular as far as likes, comments or views. It seems counter intuitive to beat that old dead horse again here.  I replay it because much is said about post traumatic stress disorder in service members but it’s not well understood by the public.  It can manifest years after the event as the memories suddenly drift in like a cold breeze through a forgotten open door.  Internal dialog of scenes long forgotten play out when and wherever they will – triggered by a thought, sound, a vision, a taste or smell. Continue reading “The End of War”

Wall of Masks

“Words dazzle and deceive because they are mimed by the face.
But black words on a white page are the soul laid bare.” ― Guy de Maupassant
Faces
Based on original image from Associated Press 2011
Wall of Masks
The words fell naked from her face,
So proud to run a single race,
Alone each mile at her own pace.
A smile and eyes glistened red in light,
Each mask she wore slipped on skin tight,
And all their hues and colors were right.
They played all summer in heat and sun,
And all the friends were there for fun,
But for her the task was to pick which one,
To fall as prey to her sick game.
All rued the day they learned her name.
They came for joy, she gave them blame,
They drank those words to slack their thirst,
They drank until their minds near burst,
The lacy toxins only made it worse.
In their heart the seeds of hate,
Grew like weeds in the lake,
And when they knew, it was too late,
To erase the words their hearts now felt.
Words fell on backs like leather belts,
until bowed and on their knees they knelt.
She stood victorious all alone,
The sun set, there was no one.
She cries out loud but no one comes.
She taunts her masks with naked face,
And screams the words that set her pace,
To run for life in a single race,
Alone with all her masks of hate.

Castle Walls

CASTLE WALLS

“Follow your bliss and the universe will open doors for you where there were only walls.”

― Joseph Campbell

Castle Walls

 

Juron felt safe in his castle. He was of noble stock, the ruler of his domain – a population of one soul complete with body. Juron and his two aether-friends lived a carefree life. They roamed about the castle of their own free will. Juron’s imagination and shadow played gleefully but never too far away from him. The freedom to choose where he would go and what room he would visit gave him a sense of the explorer’s wonder. Continue reading “Castle Walls”