Wild Rose

Tags

, , , , , , , , , ,

 

1f39a7bb2a11a5eeb24363a36c6e9e83

 

Her sweet breath fell warm and soft
like a gentle prairie breeze
wafting the scent of wild rose,
delicate, but mostly wild.

Her mane, red and dangerous,
sometimes concealed then revealed
chameleon-like features,
an emotional rainbow.

Her full lips would pout or smile
like a sudden summer storm —
thunder, lightning then sunshine,
frighteningly beautiful.

Temperament like a mustang,
skittish, demanding patience,
or she would bolt for the wild.
Gentleness would subdue her.

For a while she could be held,
raging passion directed,
hunger could be satisfied
briefly, then she would be gone.

I would not hope to contain
or to harness the wildness.
For me she will always be
my sweet, delicate, wild rose.

 
 

Image:  http://ow.ly/RwWGL

Read about my friends here  http://buff.ly/1wyjiKS

 

 

Gypsy Woman

Tags

, , , , , , , , , ,

imgres-1

 
Rode into town about a week ago,
Won’t be long before I’ve got to go.
Thoughts of staying playing in my mind;
But, Gypsy Lady I’m the restless kind.

Gypsy Woman ride along with me.
The open road ahead won’t let me be.
The engine’s serenade will set us free.
Gypsy Woman hear the symphony.

I feel your body pressing close to me;
We’re riding fast, we’re feeling wild and free.
Gypsy wind is blowing through our hair.
When I’m with you my life’s without a care.

Gypsy leathers never looked so fine.
I think about you, Lady, all the time.
Don’t want to beg, don’t want to lose my pride.
You haunt my dreams, I need you by my side.

Gypsy Lady let me hold you tight.
Don’t leave me cold and lonely through the night.
Your flashing eyes see inside my heart.
Gypsy Woman say we’ll never part.

Gypsy Lady ride along with me.
The open road ahead won’t let me be.
The engine’s serenade will set us free.
Gypsy Woman ride along with me.

 
 

Image:  http://ow.ly/QTZ4a

Read about my friends here  http://buff.ly/1wyjiKS

 

Beneath the Cedars

Tags

, , , , , , , , , ,

cedars

I sit
beneath the cedars,
in solemn serenity.
Face red
with asking questions,
seeking answers
to the ways
of life and death —
molecules and atoms —
and how we’re all
connected.

My fingers
stiff, from cold —
a child’s stubby crayons —
make difficult the task
of turning pages,
jotting notes
about impermanence,
attachment
and letting go.

I’m surrounded
by spirits of seasons past.
I fear not —
they mean no harm.
Their faces radiate,
coming from the light.
In their eyes
I see peace and love —
they are free
of mortal suffering
they endured
in life.

They comfort me.
“Grieve not,” they say,
“soon enough, you will join us.
You will experience the universe
and all it has to offer.
You still have much to learn.
When you are ready,
we’ll be waiting.”

I feel the joy of life —
(maples sailing leaves
of red and yellow)
moments, lifetimes pass…
then they’re gone,
as they should be.

I lived a dream,
everything was possible,
a spirit, a whisper
of love.

Beneath the cedars,
in their realm of wisdom,
reverently
I sit.
 
 

Image:  http://ow.ly/QTZ4a

Read about my friends here  http://buff.ly/1wyjiKS

 

Banshee

Tags

, , , , , , , ,

In Irish legend, a banshee wails
around a house where someone is about to die.

banshee

 

Brittle bones rattle and shake,
shadow me through the windy woods.
Shiver, quiver, quail and quake.
I’d forsake my worldly goods
if I thought they would suffice.
Keening cries of the banshee
penetrate like spears of ice.
Her cloak of gray, I cannot see —

Clammy presence proves she’s here.
From her curse I cannot flee;
I must face my deadly fear.
Death of kin hails the banshee.
Is it Mother, Father, Son?
On my neck her icy breath.
My sanctuary comes undone —
journey’s end will find a death.

Nearing home I hear the wailing,
sobbing, crying, clothes are rent.
Hair is pulled, arms are flailing —
heartbreak, tears are almost spent.
How to comfort, what to say?
Grieving knows no tomorrow.
How to live another day?
Stagger on, bear the sorrow.

Silent now, sits the banshee,
hooded, faceless, cloaked in gray,
spirit that we cannot see.
Pray her presence stays away.
More than that we cannot ask
as each footstep nears the grave,
toil at every weary task;
life is meant to spend not save.

Soon enough will come the time
when others wail, sob and cry.
Drums beat slowly, church bells chime;
it will be my time to die.
Hooded, faceless, cloaked in gray
the spirit wails right on cue,
as she will some future day —
when the banshee wails for you.

 
 
Image: http://www.thecosmicgypsy.com/embracing-the-madwoman/

Read about my friends here  http://buff.ly/1wyjiKS

 

MUSE WANTED

Tags

, , , , , , , , ,

helpwanted

For obsessive compulsive
poet/writer,
usually grumpy,
may be cantankerous
or depressed at times.

This is a permanent position
that pays little, if anything.
Muse must be available
from dawn to dusk
with some overnight
shifts required.

The ideal candidate
would be human,
although other species
will be considered.
Dress code casual:
pajamas, housecoats
or sweats practical.

Appearance is a must,
even if somewhat ghostly.
Cheery attitude welcomed
but not essential;
sternness may be required
on occasion.

Interested interviewees
may apply in the comments
section below. Only serious
enquiries accepted.

 
 
 
Read about my friends here  http://buff.ly/1wyjiKS

.

 

disappeared

Tags

, , , , , , , , , ,

url
 
 
as the sun
played with the leaves
in the cool afternoon breeze
i heard your giggle
saw your smiling spirit face
peeking from behind
a clump of trees.

disappointed,
because i hadn’t
the freedom to follow you,
i sighed and waited for nightfall.
as the jealous moon
stole through my window
a devil in a flannel gown
visited my bed.

we snuggled
throughout the night.
my mouth nuzzled your neck.
your skin tasted
of our favorite perfume,
wood smoke and cedar.
i murmured words of love
as I held you tight.
you disappeared
with the dawn’s
early light.
 
 
 
Read about my friends here  http://buff.ly/1wyjiKS

.

 

… space …

Tags

, , , , , , , , , ,

 

IMG_4797
There’s a space
on the sidewalk
where a smile once lived
greetings go undelivered
sarcasm left unsaid

my mornings
will be muted
other lives,
many lives,
will be lessened.

we’ll say remember when —
but, memories bring pain
another reminder
of someone
we’ll never see
again

.

 
 
 
Read about my friends here  http://buff.ly/1wyjiKS

.

 

i do what i can

Tags

, , , , , , , , ,

IMG_4797

 

i’m sitting on the sidewalk
as a woman, huddled in a blanket,
a patterned do-rag on her head,
sobs on my shoulder.
i put my arm around her
and say, “it’s okay.”
knowing that nothing is okay,
it will never be okay.

i’m beyond my depth.
i don’t know what to do,
or what to say…
anything that comes to mind
is shallow and meaningless.
this woman’s experiences
are completely foreign to me.
what do I know —
about alcoholism?
about motorcycle gangs?
about sleeping on the streets?

all i can do is let her cry,
tell her that she has forgiveness,
that what saddens her,
what keeps her awake,
or gives her nightmares,
is all in the past.
it’s time to forgive herself
and love herself
and live
in the present moment.

she can’t go on.
she can’t stand the pain.
she can’t do this any more.
drink is the only thing
that numbs her mind;
enough to endure,
enough to pass out at night
and do it all over again
the next day.

i can only do
and say so much.
it’s always a pleasant surprise
to see her sitting on the sidewalk,
knowing that she’s made it
through another night;
that she hasn’t been taken
by violence, sickness
or the police.

i do what i can.

 
 
 
Read about my friends here  http://buff.ly/1wyjiKS

.

 

Street Justice

Tags

, , , , , , , , , ,

IMG_4797

I sit, in sadness,
holding hands with an injured friend;
her ribs broken and fractured,
her breathing painful and difficult,
her head aching and dizzy,
her face bruised
and scraped.

Another friend
is absent, in hiding; yet
he has no sanctuary,
there is no place he won’t be found.

At last, he had his life
in some semblance of order.
Two months sober;
he had an apartment, furniture;
his pride and self-worth had returned.
Then, he spent his rent check on booze —
starting with triple tequila shots
at a biker bar.
The universe
had given him a fresh start —
he threw it away.

Street justice will prevail;
sentence has been passed:
a bruise for a bruise,
a broken bone for a broken bone,
and something extra
so it won’t happen again.
Punishment will be exacted
with ruthless,
emotionless
efficiency.
 
 
Read about my friends here  http://buff.ly/1wyjiKS

 

Street Angel

Tags

, , , , , , , , , ,

IMG_4797

 

I met a woman
who lives on the streets.
All her belongings
fit in her backpack.

She has sparkling blue eyes,
a smile that would light heaven itself.
She looked cold.
I asked her how long
she’d been on the streets.
She replied, “I don’t know….too long.”
She is forty-four,
but looks older.

She told me her story.
I won’t repeat it,
but, to give you
some idea,
recall your worst fears,
your worst nightmares
rolled into one.
That’s the way
her story starts,
it only gets worse
from there.

I brought her a sandwich
and a coffee.
She said, “God bless you.”
He did
immediately,
A wave of joy spread
throughout my body
and stayed there
all day long.

I have been blessed
by an Angel.

 
 
 
Read about my friends here  http://buff.ly/1wyjiKS

.

 

 

Take My Hand

Tags

, , , , , , , , , ,

IMG_4797

 

There you are
an almost stranger.
Who am I to take your hand?
What I give is nearly nothing –
but the heart to hear
and understand.

You tell me
you’ve been beaten,
stabbed with a machete,
made some choices
now regretted.

Sparking
eyes of azure blue
show a spectrum of emotions,
happiness, frustration,
pain and sorrow,
but, always
love.

Arisen
from behind a dumpster,
to living in a clean, safe house,
your life in order,
independent —
a miracle.

Inspiring
to me, and to everyone
fortunate enough to know you.
I would like to introduce you
to a wider audience
so that they too
may take inspiration
and see the miracle
that is your love,
that is you.

Please,
in friendship,
take my hand.

 
 
Read about my friends here  http://buff.ly/1wyjiKS

.

 

 

future

Tags

, , , , , , , , , ,

 
url
 
 
each sunrise
brings me closer
to the self
of my intentions,
choices,
disappointments,
failures,
perseverance.

dreams
can be deceptive.
truth is never simple.
i work with what i have
and go from there.
the trail winds
sometimes, back upon itself.
i proceed.

with each breath,
i learn, or unlearn
truths of my existence.
an unseen hand
beckons me forward
into the unknown
of self discovery —
my future.
 
 
 
Read about my friends here  http://buff.ly/1wyjiKS

.

 

 

Playful Spirit

Tags

, , , , , , , , , ,

 

spirit

 

Playful spirit behind an oak
laughed and flirted but never spoke.
Eyes of onyx, raven hair,
I marveled at her standing there.

Brilliant sunshine — could barely see.
Had my eyes played tricks on me?
I stood in reverence and awe
not sure of what I thought I saw.

Fluttering soft, the poplar leaves
perhaps, had caused me to believe
I’d seen someone who wasn’t there —
eyes of onyx, raven hair.

The nimble spirit deftly danced
from tree to tree and lightly pranced.
I didn’t know quite what to do
about this vision in my view.

I had no knowledge of such things.
What does one do when nature brings
such beauty, grace and winsome mold
who, I could see but could not hold?

I could have watched her all day long
her movements sang just like a song.
She beckoned me with backward glance
down flowered pathway of romance.

I had no choice, I was entranced;
induced to follow where she danced.
The woods had changed, were foreign now,
colors brighter, surreal somehow.

I saw some spirits on the way.
They went about their normal day.
They took no notice of my form
contrary to their spirit norm.

They were at home among the trees;
conversely, I felt ill at ease.
Abandoned, then just like a snare —
eyes of onyx, raven hair.

She drew me close and hugged me tight;
we kissed, caressed throughout the night.
Not a wisp of evanescence,
but a real woman’s presence.

Wood smoke, sweet-grass, musk and cedar —
I took her hand, she let me lead her.
Beneath the boughs we made our bed
while stars shone brightly overhead.

 
 
Read about my friends here  http://buff.ly/1wyjiKS

.

 

Heaven’s Daughter

Tags

, , , , , , , , , ,

 

woman

 

Sitting near the water weeping,
lonely maiden in deep despair.
Whippoorwills are snugly sleeping.
Willow weeping, yet unaware.

Flowing gown of melancholia,
gentle goddess softly sobbing.
Moonlight mist and sweet magnolia,
tears like diamonds dripping, dropping.

In love’s embrace, friend and lover,
their cheating and their lies unveiled.
Double blow, she can’t recover;
her hopes and dreams at once curtailed.

Betrayed, dismayed, spirit shattered,
all is lost by cruel deception.
Without the one true love that mattered
death arose in her reflection.

Slowly walks into the water,
footprints soft upon the seashore.
Ripples radiate heaven’s daughter,
sorrow departs forever more.

Sitting near the water weeping,
her lover mourns in deep despair.
His true love forever sleeping;
his only thought to join her there.

 
 
Read about my friends here  http://buff.ly/1wyjiKS

.

 

Acceptance

Tags

, , , , , , , , , ,

 

acceptance

in my nearly seven decades
on this earth
i know some things to be true.
if there is a key to life
it is ACCEPTANCE.
this is a goal that i aspire to,
i’m not always successful,
but with each slip
i affirm that i can do better;
i will do better.

i don’t have answers.
i don’t have solutions.
i don’t have resources.
what i offer is a safe haven
where YOU can come home.
i will ACCEPT you —
no questions asked,
no explanation expected,
nothing requested
in return.
i open my heart
to YOU.
 
 
Read about my friends here  http://buff.ly/1wyjiKS

.

 


 

Roman Holiday by Rebecca Branch

Tags

, , , , , , , , , ,

25802790

http://ow.ly/P63tO
 
My 5 Star Review
 
Having read the first two novels in this series I was most anxious to read A Roman Holiday: Third in the Art Historian Superhero series. I was not disappointed. This fast paced adventure had me captivated from start to finish. The characters of Max and Sally I was already familiar with. Ambrosia, the ever apologetic fembot, was a new revelation. I fell in love with her and her Superwoman powers. Since she had been recently constructed, everything was new to her, everything was a learning experience. Max and Sally were very compassionate teachers and Ambi was welcomed as one of their family.

Although time-travel, ancient wars and historical fiction are the vehicles of these novels, the theme is unconditional love. We grow with the characters and learn, with respect and acceptance: racial, gender, religious and sexual equality. Molly and Max are philanthropists. This, and the two previous books, are thoroughly engaging and leave one feeling good about the world.

Rebecca Branch is an acclaimed scholar familiar with guiding visitors around Rome. Join her and her characters in this fantastic adventure.

Book Description
 
This is the third book in the Art Historian Superhero series. In Summer of 71 you were introduced to Max DuPont, a young American who spends his summers in Rome, split between two continents and shared by divorced parents. That summer Max had the romance of his life and was introduced to the mysteries of women by Molly, the dream lover of any young man, a down on her luck actress and model ten years his elder. Theirs was a romance which defined who they were and who they were to become.
Seven years later, in my second novel, Great Caesar’s Ghost, Max found himself again in Rome, this time an adult, working on the curatorial staff of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Together with his father Edward, an American archaeologist, Max discovered a long lost treasure, the personal artifacts of Gaius Julius Caesar. Amongst the relics was a ring which had the ability, when worn by one of Caesar’s descendants, to transport the bearer to any time and place. Max started his journey to uncover the past and ultimately to visit with Caesar himself.

Waking from her near-death experience, having survived the sinking of the Titanic, Sarah Goldsmith (Sally) saves Max and accompanies him in his travels. Brilliant and resourceful, a Harvard educated art historian, she awakens from a frightening era of anti-Semitism to champion the fight against injustice, intolerance and barbarity in all its forms. A natural feminist, Sally finds her match in Max, and two lonely lives come together as one.

This third novel in the series takes the time travelers from the modern world to the ancient past. Travel with them to California in the year 2050 to gather together their team and to New York in 1980 where Max lives his current life. Visit Studio 54, the court of Theodoric the Ostrogoth in Rome in 494 AD, and be present at the epic battle of Alesia where Caesar battles the Gauls in 52 BC.

Ultimately a love story and also a tale of discovery and self-awareness, join Max as he sheds the loneliness he has endured since his teenage years and finds the girl of his dreams who travels at his side. Then be prepared to admit within your circle one of the strongest and most attractive characters I’ve written…Ambrosia, a combined product of Apple and Google, and the most capable heroine in this series.

These are all adult books. They are written for a mature audience, suffused with observations of history, art history, Roman culture, contemporary New York, and many other locations. They are also a story of attraction, commitment, discovery and self-awareness, loss of innocence, coming of age, love and lust. They are often erotic but always loving, respectful of both genders, upbeat and satisfying. Although adult themes abound, they do not dominate, and these books are romantic time-travel historical fiction first and erotic adventures second. Come along for the journey in this sequel to Great Caesar’s Ghost.
 
 
Author Biography
 
I am 49 years old, a wife and a mother of two young women. I live near New York City. I am an architect by trade but an art historian by education having attended UC Berkeley as an undergraduate and Columbia for post graduate degrees. My father was an American archaeologist and my mother an Italian Lady. I worked as an assistant to the curator of Greco Roman arts at the Metropolitan Museum before leaving to take on my profession for need of income which the art world did not provide.

I began writing on a dare by friends who have encouraged me for years as I am a good storyteller and an avid reader. My first novel was Summer of 71, a story of romance and discovery set in Rome, a city with which I am very familiar and a place where I lecture on Roman history, architecture and culture bi-annually. My second book is Great Caesar’s Ghost which continues the story with my hero Maximillian DuPont and is a time travel romance skirting time periods from the first century BC through the modern day. My third work is titled A Roman Holiday and continues the series and has just been released. There will be at least two more books beyond these in this series. I also write short stories and a collection of these will be released shortly. They are about motherhood, romance and office affairs and escapades.

Although placed in the adult, and sometimes erotic category, my work is far more about self-awareness, relationships, coming of age, loss of innocence, personal development, reclamation, the culture of Italy, art and architectural history, an examination of the passage of time, food, and humor. I write as an adult to an adult audience and do not bury physical relationships behind closed doors. But what I write is loving and respectful of both genders, light and upbeat, fulfilling and satisfying. No one gets hurt, no one degraded. You should walk away from each of my books with a smile and an increased knowledge of the western world, Rome’s influence, politics, the social revolution, religion, and the inimitable wonder of a loving relationship between a good man and woman.
 

loner

Tags

, , , , , , , , , ,

images

 
i don’t like
to say i’m a loner —
the label
has antisocial connotations
that cause me
discomfort

it’s not that
i don’t like people
but, sometimes
they get under my skin.
i don’t mean to offend anybody
you haven’t done anything wrong,
you’re not inadequate,
or lacking in social skills

it’s just that
i live in my mind,
it’s not a big mind,
sometimes, two’s a crowd.
i’m not hiding anything,
i’m trying to figure things out —

sometimes,
i’m not too quick at that,
i have to mull things over,
imagine the consequences.
often,
i decide not to do anything
(‘a rebel without a clue’),
leave the ball in someone else’s court,
let them make the decision.

i’m not proud
of this attitude
but, it’s the only one i have
so, it’ll have to do,
until i find a replacement;
that’s not going to happen —
so live with it,
or leave me alone.

.

Read about my friends here  http://buff.ly/1wyjiKS

.

if we listen

Tags

, , , , , , , , , ,

 

white-buffalo-calf-woman

 

A wraith was writhing in the air,
its undulating shape so fair;
just like a woman slim and tall —
I followed with no fear at all.

She wafted, led me through the trees
under branches, upon my knees,
until I found myself quite lost —
my folly gained, but at what cost?

I sat upon a log and thought
of this misfortune I had wrought —
from the mist, to my surprise,
a female form materialized.

A lithesome beauty, to be sure,
approached me with a gaze so pure.
I sat transfixed, afraid to move
expecting that this shape would prove,

perhaps, to be a daylight dream,
evanescent, not what it seemed —
a vision that would fade from sight
as quickly as a beam of light.

Yet, she remained and held my hand,
explained, so I could understand —
the holy earth is our Mother,
the deer and trees are our brothers.

We all share a common root
though each produces different fruit.
Our Mother Earth gives birth to all —
the things that walk, fly, swim and crawl.

This planet here for us to use
to grow our crops, not to abuse.
Winds and rains and things that glisten
each have stories if we listen.

 
 
 
Image by Cher Lyn  http://ow.ly/P2GaT
 
Read about my friends here  http://buff.ly/1wyjiKS

.

 


 

Strangers (Once Again)

Tags

, , , , , , , , , ,

 

Exif_JPEG_PICTURE

 

 

i saw you
gazing at the frozen food.
i was reaching for a carton of eggs.
i thought you saw me.

i thought
perhaps, you’d turn
and smile
(i loved your smile).

i considered saying something
but, what could i say
that i hadn’t said
a thousand times before.

i remember
the first time I saw you
emerging naked from the sea,
water streaming from your hair —
Venus rising.

i was transfixed.
i am still transfixed.
our carts pass in the aisle
moving on to other places —
strangers
(once again).

 
 
Read about my friends here  http://buff.ly/1wyjiKS

.

 


 

timid eyes

 

dc04low

 

timid eyes

from the forest

beckon, yet hold back,

wanting to love,

afraid to trust.

 

lithe body,

like a deer,

ready to spring

at the first sign

of danger.

 

delicate features

worthy of infinite contemplation,

question,

ready to color

at the slightest provocation.

i want to coax her

from the forest,

show her

there is nothing to fear;

yet,  i know there is.

 

so, from a distance

i watch

the timid gentle creature.

all I can give her

is freedom.

 

 
 
 
Read about my friends here  http://buff.ly/1wyjiKS

.

 


 

First Kiss

Tags

, , , , , , , , , ,

 

kiss

 

my first kiss
so long ago
(not yet in high school)
in the back seat
at a drive-in theatre.
I’ll remember ’till I die
my nervousness,
perspiration,
her perfume
(Tigress by Faberge)
her warmth,
angora sweater set
(pastel yellow —
no buttons
to hinder progress)
sweetness of her kiss.
She knew much more than I
about such things
 
another world
had opened to me
desire and heartache
go together —
there’s seldom one
without the other
but, would we want it
any other way?
would we want
a safe, yet loveless life
without the up
without the down?
or, take the ecstasy
and risk our hearts
being trampled
to the ground
 
 
 
Read about my friends here  http://buff.ly/1wyjiKS

.

 


 

Tennessee Honey

Tags

, , , , , , , , , ,

 
DSC_4796

 

Thoughts drift south,
Jack Daniel’s country
where the weather
suits my mood.

On a bar stool
I park my bones
Inhale the Jack, magnolia —
sweet, sweet surrender.

A woman alone
at a corner table —
darkest eyes,
brightest smile,
auburn hair
to her shoulders.

I think, Why not?.
Our eyes meet,
I saunter towards her
and know, from the look she gives,
she’s heard it all before.

“Ma’am, It would give me
the greatest pleasure
to buy you a drink
and share your table for a while.
If I can’t keep you smilin’
I promise,
I’ll take my conversation elsewhere.”

She said with the utmost
southern grace, charm
and hospitality,
“You’ve got ten minutes.
I don’t like to be disappointed.”

I fell into her raven pools,
somewhere, I got lost there.
I don’t know my way too well
around these parts
but, I’d swear she lured me
with some kind of mojo.

My eyes refused to look away
from ruby lips (so sensual)
as they spoke words of love
in a voice
of the sweetest, southern honey,
words…….dripping……..
tantalizing.

The evening passed,
holding hands across the table.
I was enthralled and enchanted.
Where it went from there
I refuse to say
(gentleman’s code of honor).

Such beauty
I have never known.
It keeps coming back
to haunt me.

My thoughts
were only passing through
but, in my dreams I see
the darkest eyes,
brightest smile,
hear her voice —
Tennessee honey.

 
 
 
Read about my friends here  http://buff.ly/1wyjiKS

.

 


 

New-Mown Hay (1962)

Tags

, , , , , , , , , ,

 
couple
 

In Memory is the scent of new-mown hay
wafted softly over moonlit, prairie fields.
Car radio music eased the tensions.
Fingers, hormones and pounding hearts collided.

CKOM radio’s “Hi-Fi Club” with
“Digger” Dave Palmer spinning the platters
blasted over empty high school stadiums,
riverbank parking lots and secluded fields.

No past or future. There was only present.
Only that one unforgettable moment
forever etched indelibly in Memory.
At the time, it seemed, a moment to die for.

Clumsy fingers fumbled with stubborn buttons.
Heaving breasts longed to be released at last.
Guilt, knowing that parents would be home waiting.
Excuses that begged for plausibility.

Many a romance was started or ended
to a favorite beat, harmony or chorus.
The first three bars still stimulate the passion
and bring the past thundering to the foreground.

Where are those unforgettable moments now?
Where are those raging hormones and pounding hearts?
I look back, over years of maturity
and long for the scent of fresh, damp, new-mown hay.

 
 
 
Read about my friends here  http://buff.ly/1wyjiKS

.

 


 

1977

Tags

, , , , , , , , ,

coffee

I sit on a stool
at Woolworth’s lunch counter
staring into the swirls of my steaming coffee
served in a Buffalo China cup and saucer
edged with double green stripes
(I have no interest
in my coffee)

Sitting
two stools down
is a young woman
with dark hair and doe eyes.
Her presence — electric.
She parts her ripe cherry lips
as she looks up from her book
and glances at the clock.
Five minutes left
before she leaves
for work.

She stretches
in her tight, white sweater
as she slides her arms
into the satin lined sleeves of her coat
previously draped
over the stool back.

She gazes
in my general direction
with no sign of encouragement.
I should be more assertive —
my coffee is cold —
maybe tomorrow…

 
 
Read about my friends here  http://buff.ly/1wyjiKS

.

 


 

friend

Tags

, , , , , , , , , ,

 

hands

 

i offer you

the hand of a friend

we’ll sip coffee

or southern sweet tea

listen to crickets

birds

perhaps a possum

in the wood pile

we’ll close our eyes

to the relaxing rays

and smile

 
 
 
Read about my friends here  http://buff.ly/1wyjiKS

.

 


 

The Mourning Dove

Tags

, , , , , , , , , ,

 

 

c9b9345e1856d0ff2baad630a33bab10

 

 

The silence of
the mourning dove,
more mournful
than her song.

She’s lost her mate,
her will to live,
yet time
still passes on.

Of days gone by,
she dreams her dreams,
when last she
heard him sing.

In widow’s weeds,
by empty nest,
a lonely dove
has lost her song.

 .

 
 
Read about my friends here  http://buff.ly/1wyjiKS

.

 


 

Finding Reese by Imy Santiago

.

finding

.

http://ow.ly/OeRFX

Imy Santiago

Biography

I love to read stories about loss, heartache and redemption so it didn’t shock me that I would end up writing stories revolving around those central themes. I write with my heart, using my life experiences and emotions to dictate the tone and path in which my fictional characters embark in my long list of stories. I believe in the power of friendship and to always remain hopeful because life is always full of pleasant surprises. If you were to ask me if I consider myself an author, I would tell you no, I am not. I’m just a girl who loves a good story that makes you ponder life choices and the darkness that envelopes a broken heart. My stories are about loss, friendship, love and hope.

 

Product Description

 

***Finding Reese. is book two in the SAFELIGHT series out of three. It is part of a continuous story line, therefore it cannot be read as a standalone. 94k words.***

Hope Breeds Life…

Sometimes destiny and fate have a weird way of reminding us of our inescapable vulnerability, but more importantly our inexorable humanity. Life is fleeting, and what little time we have left in this world, we must make do with what we have, and cherish those whom we love by our side.

Fresh back from the Jackson Reese Press Tour, sports journalist Catalina Pardo rushes back to British Columbia after receiving unexpected and distressing news. With the help of award winning photographer Stryder Martynus, Catalina is determined to prevent the news of tragedy and heartbreak from governing her life again.

Together they will embark on a new journey of introspection to overcome the ghosts and raw emotions of their pasts−on a long and unpredictable road full of complicated circumstances−to find healing, hope and salvation.

The smallest of gifts−like a friendship bracelet−have the power to save your life, and unlike fairy tales, happy endings are seldom guaranteed…

*Adult Contemporary Romance with Mature Content−Due to strong language and sexual content, this book is not suitable for readers under the age of eighteen.*

**Contains a special excerpt of We Met on a Train by Imy Santiago, releasing Fall 2015**

 

5 Stars: Imy Santiago Does it Again!

After reading Chasing Reese, Imy’s first book, I eagerly and patiently awaited Finding Reese, the sequel. I was not disappointed. Imy is a fantastic writer. Her mastery of dialog fleshes out these wonderfully flawed characters. The naturalness of their verbal responses to each other reminds me of my own friends. Indeed, these characters have become my friends. I’ve cheered their victories, cursed their jealousies, empathized with their insecurities — overall I took them into my heart. This was truly an emotional and satisfying read. I look forward to the final book in the trilogy.

.

Desperation Drive

Tags

, , , , , , , , , ,

 

a015a738f9dec4461cb4effe9492b679

 

I’m just kicking stones, chasing loneliness — nothing much to do;
In my dusty hat and western boots — soles are worn clear through.
I’m leaving heartache, going nowhere fast, more dead than alive.
At daybreak, feet are pointing to, Desperation Drive.

When you’re down and out, in a hard luck place, no stars shine at night;
I’ve been looking down, such a long, long time, just can’t see the light.
Haven’t got a cent, haven’t got a friend, no will to survive;
That’s the reason why, I’m heading for, Desperation Drive.

There was a woman — vowed she loved me, caught the midnight train;
She took my money, left my broken heart, drowning in the rain.
Got to leave this town, have to hitch a ride, out on highway five;
If they ask me where, I’m going I’ll say to, Desperation Drive.

I miss that woman, she’s still in mind, the breeze whispers her name;
She’s mean and evil, but my lonely heart, wants her just the same.
On the waterfront, I check the bars and every lowdown dive;
If she’s not there, I’ll find a place on, Desperation Drive.

 

 
Read about my friends here  http://buff.ly/1wyjiKS

.

 


 

wander

Tags

, , , , , , , , , ,

 

wanderer

 

i wander with you
even though i can’t see
your physical presence
you are with me
your laughter
your song
everything
that gives my life
its meaning

still my muse
you take me places
i never would have dreamed
without your guidance
your patience
your love
still a mystery —
a mystery
that i love

 
Read about my friends here  http://buff.ly/1wyjiKS

.

 


 

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 51,187 other followers