For those of you waiting for new novel posts, sorry! I am hoping to add to at least one of them tonight. Until then, here is an update on the novel posting schedule(s).
I hate to say it, but novel posts are going to have to reduce to one a month. Between my main job and starting a realty business, I simply can’t put the time and thought into them on a weekly or biweekly basis that is needed to keep the quality up. And if I rush them, my plotting is likely to go all to Hades and leave me in a real pickle for later updates.
If/when my schedule opens up again, I will revisit this. Until then, expect novel updates once a month. Thank you for your patience, and, as always, thanks for reading!
Splashes of colours
Burst from their verdant covers
Seeking the sunshine
Feel the empty warmth,
Close your ears – ignore the call:
Sink into darkness
“Oh, no!” she cried, tears in her eyes,
“The poetry store is dark inside!
The shelves are empty – the rhymes are gone!
No books! No schemes! No driving song
Of meters pushing each word on.
This cannot be! This is a crime –
To take poetry but leave us time!
Who would bury us with such woes
As to live and die with only prose?”
A laughing rhythm
Above our heads dances with
Reason to coldly
Erase your dreams
The writer writes on
As reading fades away –
Only letters and words,
All jumbled and misplaced,
Remain in a pile
Of scattered fragments
Like clues to what once was.
To be interpreted,
Not read or said,
A language bleeding out
Until it evolves – or finally
Lies dead. A memory,
Some strange hallucination
Inside the writer’s head.
Some yearn for sugar-spritzed marshmallows
So bright they seem ready to spring,
To caper and cavort across the plastic grass
Until, headless, they fall – or rise again,
Joined by dismembered cohorts of chocolate,
The wish of other hungry souls along with
Eggs and chicks – all the same rich confection.
Among them eggs that bleed rich cream,
Bought in handfuls and consumed to a coma
While the hunt continues through the yard
With rewards of bright-colored plastic (empty)
Or worse, a discarded craft project,
That holds only food – no candy or coins –
Unless, wait, yes, it could (oh please)
Contain a chorus of glitter awaiting its prey.
The shower of sparkles, the laughter, the chase and (eventually)
To sleep with a chocolate-smeared smile on your face.
Do they walk?
Why would they walk?
These faded shades of legs,
Long crumbled, hidden away.
Is it memory?
Some distant longing
For what once was –
Before it wasn’t.
Is that why they stay?
That need to see – to be?
To walk, to sing, to hold, to touch –
Are those the draw that,
All unseen, hold them
Where they cannot be
But must remain –
A dream, now dust:
Fate fain to fade.
Dream while you can
Til it fades in the dawn:
The dawn of marriage,
The dawn of kids,
The uncountable dawns
Of the life that you live –
Look! There! Can you see
Through the clouds
Of dreams left behind:
Ambiguous, undefined, hidden
In the depths of your mind –
Taken over by dreams
Taken over in kind.