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Dennis Cardiff

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Dennis Cardiff

Monthly Archives: September 2015

Jail Bait: Five Stars

28 Monday Sep 2015

Posted by DennisCardiff in Prose

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

book, compassion, destiny, emotion, empathy, empowerment, erotic, fantasy, love, sighs, travel

jail

Buy here: http://ow.ly/SLo8V $2.99

My Five Star Review: The Best Yet!

I have read the three previous books by Rebecca Branch and loved them all. Jail Bait is about the May-December relationship between Beth, 26 and Griff, 43. Complications arise due to Beth’s four siblings and Griff’s two grown daughters. Sexual tension pervades the book. Beth uses her abundant powers of intellect, business acumen and seduction to tip the scales in her favor. Griff, although initially reluctant, doesn’t stand a chance.

Characters and events in this and preceding books are based on personal experience, experiences of friends, and imagination. There is a heart wrenching account by a Ground Zero observer of the World Trade Center disaster. He discusses his injuries and the Post Traumatic Stress Disorder that haunted him long after.

Rebecca Branch has tremendous empathy and a great memory for conversation. Her characters come alive with all their flaws, virtues and compassion. This is one of my favorite books. I’ve read it twice and plan to read it again.

 

The Story

His wife was dead. The cerebral hemorrhage which finally claimed her after a terrible car accident had left him alone and feeling much older than his years displayed. He’d married young and half his life had been spent as a provider, a faithful husband and the father of two grown children. He felt he was far closer now at forty-four to his end, than to his beginning. He’d stopped living. His lawn untended, food of no importance, business in the dumps…only his dog, his constant companion, claimed his attention.

A walk in the park, his first in a month, finally got him out of his house. Kody, his bright white furry beast, always on display, always the most magnificent creature in the park, drew her to him. She did not see the pain or the suffering, the self-doubt and the resignation to a future alone. All she could see was the devilishly handsome guy…kind, gentle, cultured and intelligent. A man in need and yet a man who could give so much to those around him. It may have been his chick-magnet dog that brought her to him, but now it would be up to her to gain his attention and admiration before wrapping herself around him and never letting go.

He too, was stricken. How beautiful in face and figure she was…how kind and attentive. But while grateful to be brought back amongst the living, to feel masculine and drawn to her mystery, she was no more than a teen and a casual encounter in the park would be the limit of their meeting.
Trouble was, although an ingénue and half his age, there was no way in the world she would permit this man to get away. There was but one man like this in the world like him and she, with all her determination and charm, would never permit another to have him, for from the first moment her eyes had caught his…he would not be able to turn away and would be hers and no one else’s.

Jail Bait is Rebeca Branch’s first foray into the relationship between an older man and younger woman. A story of introspection and evaluation…of commitment and redemption, and of a burgeoning love which transcends age and experience to deliver these two people into a world of untold desire, fulfillment and happiness.

Unlike her previous books, Jail Bait is a quick read and does not delve into the art and history so familiar in her other work. This is a tale of family, self, and attraction, of need, desire and commitment. Come along for the journey.

 

About the Author

11947688_168783993455094_1262461147289558124_nI 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.

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Concrete Box

25 Friday Sep 2015

Posted by DennisCardiff in Poetry

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

blues, dreams, entertainment, fantasy, free, imagination, longing, love, music, mystery, universe

bar

 

I work in a corporate, concrete box;
no windows, only a computer terminal
to link me to the outside world.
Only second-hand accounts
of weather, traffic,
whether it is day or night.

I sometimes go to work in darkness,
return in darkness.
I don’t know if the sun
remembered to rise at all.
Like the light in a refrigerator.
Does it really turn off
when I close the door?

At a keyboard, my fingers type numbers,
millions of numbers.
My mind wanders woodland paths.
I watch birds flitting from limb to limb,
chipmunks scurrying, stopping,
looking around, then scurrying again.

My mind plays tricks on me.
I imagine that just 26 floors down
I could exit on Beale or Bourbon Street.
Hear sounds of the South,
guitars, saxophones and raspy voices
that rule the rhythm of my body and soul.

Take me on a blues ride.
Let me wander with the lyrics
down Highway 61, “The Blues Highway”.
Let me smell the sweat and the booze,
the jostling at the bar,
the waitress who will smile for a tip.

Let me smell magnolia, bougainvillea,
where Spanish moss hangs below the branches,
see the darkest eyes and brightest smile,
hear that special whisper, “Come with me.”
We’ll walk for miles, be holding hands,
and never want for any more
than our window to a dream.

 
 
 
Image: http://www.neworleans.com/nightlife/bourbon-heat/

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

 

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Lonely

23 Wednesday Sep 2015

Posted by DennisCardiff in Poetry

≈ 9 Comments

Tags

addiction, alcoholism, Buddhism, Christianity, compassion, despair, empathy, homeless, loving kindness, psychology, Sociology

Screen-Shot-2014-10-24-at-3.52.22-PM

 

I  wandered into Lonely
about a week ago.
I don’t know how I got here.
I don’t know where to go.

I’m not alone in Lonely
we gather all together.
I look into their empty eyes;
I see they’re lost forever.

We sit in understanding,
I hear about their sorrow.
Death looks from their teary eyes;
they’ll not be here tomorrow.

My heart unfolded to them.
They look on me as friend.
I give to all, the love I have;
offer comfort ’till the end.

 
 
 
Image: http://toddproa.org/blog/

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

 

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The Morning After

19 Saturday Sep 2015

Posted by DennisCardiff in Poetry

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

confusion, conscience, despair, fear, forgetting, guilt, hangover, imagination, memory loss, mystery

bigstock-Man-In-Bed-6546651
 

There’s a misty place between nightmare and dawn.
Moving shadows are frightening to look upon.
There’s another world where reality ends,
Friends become enemies; enemies — friends.

Reluctant to move or to open my eyes.
There’s a body beside me — that’s a surprise.
Hearing their breathing, an occasional whine;
Knowing they’re alive — that’s a positive sign.

Opening one eye, a little, just a peep.
Whoever they are, I think they’re asleep.
I sneak out of bed to take a look ’round —
Finding wallet and clothes, I don’t make a sound.

Tiptoeing quietly, on little mouse feet,
when a voice behind me, so soft and so sweet,
says, “Come back to bed, dear, you don’t have to work.”
I feel very sheepish, I feel like a jerk.

“It’s the weekend; we have two whole days to play,
so come back to bed and we’ll start right away.”
Now it makes sense, I’m home — I belong.
How could I have been so confused and so wrong?

Last evening’s a blur; I blame it on drink —
there were faces, places — it’s so hard to think.
Somehow I got here, so it must be okay.
I’ll figure things out, some other day.

 
 
 
Image: http://ow.ly/SqtPw

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

 

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Let Me Sleep Until the Dawn

16 Wednesday Sep 2015

Posted by DennisCardiff in Poetry

≈ 10 Comments

Tags

fantasy, imagination, insomnia, longing, personal, philosophy, psychology, ruminate, sleep, thoughts

insomnia
 

Now I lie beneath the covers, worldly thoughts I try to smother,
sleep, a pleasure like no other, eyes feel heavy, a yawn comes on.
Pray to the Lord my soul to keep, plump my pillow and snuggle deep,
sigh and settle, welcome sleep. Sandman, show me somnolent scenes,
dream me drowsy, dozeable dreams, grant me glories to gaze upon;
let me sleep until the dawn.

It doesn’t seem too much to ask, nightly nap after daily tasks.
Let me sip from a soothing flask, no further need to labor on;
tomorrow is another day — to fight the fray, to harvest hay,
maybe to while the time away. Never mind the resolutions,
problems having no solutions, the curtains of the day are drawn;
I want to sleep until the dawn.

Now, I begin to feel a twitch, a muscle spasm, now an itch.
I really hate to whine and bitch, but this condition can’t go on.
Turn on the light, read my book, squint, give the clock a second look,
wonder how many pills I took. Covers rumpled, twisted, tangled,
I’m annoyed, nerves are jangled. Maybe, turn the radio on;
I need some sleep before the dawn.

Think I’ll go down and watch TV, something relaxing — history,
maybe drama or mystery, don’t want anything that’s too long,
don’t want to think or contemplate, would be nice just to vegetate,
if it’s too slow I’ll ruminate. Jay is always good for a laugh,
just in time for the second half. Shopping channel has got a con;
I can’t believe I’ve got this on.

Hush sleepy papa don’t you cry, sleep will come — by and by.
Sing me a soothing lullaby or sweet and lowdown, bluesy song.
In the wee hours of the morning, thoughts arrive without a warning,
evil thoughts like hornets swarming, spoken by a voice inside,
meant to weaken and deride — I’m not worthy to carry on.
No time for sleep — here comes the dawn.

…

I often have a problem with Insomnia. The above represents a fairly typical night for me. The form of this poem is loosely based on Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Raven” which is, I believe a Sapphic variant. The rhyming pattern is: aa/ab/cc/cd/db/b.

 

 

 
Image: http://ow.ly/Sj4wF

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

 

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Careful With That Axe, Eugene

15 Tuesday Sep 2015

Posted by DennisCardiff in Poetry

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

compassion, emotion, empathy, imagination, lyricist, music, philosophy, Pink Floyd, psychology, singer, songwriter

barrettyoung.jpg

 

Eugene had a mind of his own,
not, as some would say, a sound mind,
but his own mind, nevertheless.

“It’s awfully considerate of you
to think of me here.
And I’m most obliged to you
for making it clear
that I’m not here.”

Eugene was a great musician,
taking music to the limit;
his songs will always survive.
Eugene took drugs to the limit;
he’s now in Interstellar Overdrive.

When we observed him with an axe,
you may understand our concern.
Was he in danger, or were we?

Eugene had already left us in spirit,
but he wandered away that day
and was lost to us forever.

 

barrettold

This poem is dedicated to the memory of “Syd Barrett (born Roger Keith Barrett;
6 January 1946 – 7 July 2006) who was an English singer, songwriter, guitarist and artist. He is most remembered as a founding member of  band Pink Floyd, providing major musical and stylistic direction in their early work, although he left the group in 1968 amidst speculations of mental illness exacerbated by heavy drug use.”

Axe is also British slang for guitar. Pink Floyd’s use of the title Careful With That Axe, Eugene may refer to “Barrett’s behaviour (which) became increasingly unpredictable, partly as a consequence of frequent experimentation with psychedelic drugs such as LSD. Many report having seen him on stage with the group, strumming on one chord through the entire concert, or not playing at all. At a show at The Fillmore West in San Francisco, during a performance of “Interstellar Overdrive”, Barrett slowly detuned his guitar. The audience seemed to enjoy such antics, unaware of the rest of the band’s consternation.” (Source: Wikipedia)

.

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Image: http://ow.ly/Sfagm

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Our Nest

13 Sunday Sep 2015

Posted by DennisCardiff in Poetry

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

compassion, destiny, emotion, eternal, forever, kindness, lifetimes, love, nature, romance, sighs

iStock_000015512688Small

 

High in the treetops
our nest near the sky.
We snuggle and watch
the stars shooting by;
stars that we wish on,
stars that we name,
stars with no purpose,
we love just the same.

Twigs interwoven
with love and with care,
feathers and ribbons
from a dress that you wear.
Pieces of memories,
dreams stuffed between,
baubles and buttons,
things that we’ve seen:

A bracelet, a necklace
an earring or two.
Things that we’ve thought of,
things that we’ll do.
A nest comfy, cozy
a fit just for two.
My heart’s yours forever
I love you, I do.

 
 
 
Image: http://ow.ly/S9GtZ

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

 

 

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La Jolla

12 Saturday Sep 2015

Posted by DennisCardiff in Poetry

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

adventure, aircraft, beach, California, destination, nature, palm trees, seals, seashore, travel, vacation

DSC00348

 
La Jolla palms pierce the sky.
Ocean breeze is blowing free.
Seals sojourn in the surf.
Surfers frolic in the sea.

Traffic rolls on Silverado
while I sit and sip and gander
(witbier: orange blossom honey,
orange zest with coriander).

Eternal chorus of the waves
rolling, crashing on the shore.
Children running in the sand.
Across the sea — forevermore.

Condors flying from the north,
I flew on another flight.
Fishing boats are heading home.
Couvier Street prepares for night.

 
 
 

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

 

 

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My Muse

10 Thursday Sep 2015

Posted by DennisCardiff in Poetry

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

compassion, emotion, empathy, empowerment, eternal, forever, kindness, longing, mystery, spirits, spiritual

muse2
“Untamed Muse” by Tom Kidd: A great depiction of my vision of a poet.

 

Sometimes, my words won’t come,
no matter what I try to write.
I softly call upon my muse,
entreat her
to visit me this night.

I feel her warmth within the room,
I’m instantly at ease.
I sense her reading my scribbles,
she knows my thoughts
and hears my longing pleas.

I feel her delicate fingers
upon my clumsy hand;
her words and phrases flood my mind,
things I’ve never seen before
from some far distant land.

I don’t know where she comes from,
(perhaps, from up above)
where ever it is
that she calls home,
she comes to me with love.

 
 
 

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

 

 

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Destiny

08 Tuesday Sep 2015

Posted by DennisCardiff in Poetry

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

destiny, empowerment, eternal, forever, free, lifetimes, love, mystery, romance, universe

images

 

What path,
what dusty trail,
my destiny decided
(lifetimes ago)
of people met,
places traveled,
people yet to meet,
places yet to go.

Touch (untouch)
in dreams create
eagle feathers,
angel wings,
radiant light in darkest night,
from depths of sorrow
to love ignite.

Archer, warrior,
songster, chief,
(signals smoke
across the sky).
The raven spoke,
to her I listened —
together, forever
we will fly.

 
 
 
Image: http://ow.ly/QQ7uZ

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

 

 

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The Silver Fox

04 Friday Sep 2015

Posted by DennisCardiff in Poetry

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

alcoholism, Buddhism, Christianity, compassion, despair, desperation, emotion, fear, homeless, loneliness, longing

old-greek-men

old-man-giving-the-middle-finger

 

Slouching
in forgotten tap-rooms
dirty old men,
forgotten old men,
slop piss-colored beer
from, wet, dripping glasses.
The hollow din,
the retelling of “the good old days”,
echoes sadly
as life quickly passes.

“They used to call me ‘The Silver Fox’
What do you think of that?
They used to care.”

An empty glass crashes
to the muddy floor.

“I guess I’ll be hitting the street tonight.
Sleep in an alley tonight.
Nobody cares.”

Slouching
in forgotten tap-rooms
dirty old men,
forgotten old men,
slop piss-colored beer.
Nobody cares….

 
 
 

Image: http://ow.ly/RNSi3

Image: http://ow.ly/RO5Ye

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

 

 

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Prairie Crocus

02 Wednesday Sep 2015

Posted by DennisCardiff in Poetry

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

destiny, eternal, forever, free, lifetimes, love, mankind, mystery, nature, universe

images-1

 

After the snow moves north
the prairie crocus,
native anemone,
ears of the earth
listens
for the rustle of summer.

Gently she sways
to moments of truth.
In her petals
the purple blue mist
of far distant mountains;
a small golden sun
close to her heart.

Eternity
folds close around her,
warms her
from the cold winds
of spring.

 
 

Image: http://ow.ly/RIPNs

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

 

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