Stars

The beginning of an old short story from my 20s. Never finished. But I still like some of the ideas. Simply archiving! It’s so old it was hand-written! lol


She lingered in the plush blades of grass that curled around her plump toes. Standing in her nighgown, she wondered at the evening sky. Arms limp. Relaxed jaw. Deep breath. The young woman found two particular stars completely interesting.

One of the heavenly bodies shivered incessantly on the deep, cold black expanse that marked the top half of the sky, flickering in and out of consciousness. Then, the other was nestled in the warmth of its own glow. White and constant, it shone brightly in the plum ether that split the black sky from the earth.

The two suns were seemingly inches apart, but in reality, worlds away from one another. Not unlike she and her husband. She shivered as she woke from her meditative trance.

Michael called from the porch. “Sara, come in now.”

As she crossed the threshold of their sterile country home, Michael asserted, “You’ll catch cold.” Michael threw a blanket around her shoulders.

“Thanks.” Sara managed a smile without looking into his eyes.

Silently, they climbed to their bedroom. Upstairs, in their average, comfortable bed, Michael slept as Sara laid awake, remembering the stars.

Most of the time, she felt like the weaker star. Finding it difficult to shine all the time. It was hard to summon light within herself. She felt the encompassing darkness surrounding her. Enveloping her. Swallowing her. Drinking in her life. Sara viewed herself as a fool because she had no control over the dark. It would creep into her mind and she assumed that she allowed that. It rose and set like the moon, involuntarily. Unstoppable. Phasing like a dead planet composed of ash.


Not bad for a 20-something? When the internet did not exist. LOL

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Flesh and Blood

Flesh becomes one with the mind
When viewed beyond reality
The two are then perceived of kind
Transcend above fatality
Depth of soul to the depth of hell
And then you have a story to tell

Where the Gutter Ends

This is an old inking of a guttering bend I did for drawing class in college. Does it look like that? LOL A poem for the gutter.


It’s altogether different from
Where the gutter bends
All the way down to
Where the gutter ends.

When you get to the bottom
There’s no place but higher.
You’re among the garbage,
But not for long, my Flyer.

It’s okay to be down.
It teaches you how to stand.
It teaches you to be strong.
How to accept someone’s hand.

Swallow your pride.
Pull on your boots.
Plant those feet.
Let your heels dig roots.

Believe in what you do.
Or don’t do a thing.
If you have a voice?
Open your mouth and sing!

Float from the gutter
To reveal your mystery.
Let the world listen to
Your hard-to-hear (hard-to-tell) history.

Calliope Calls

Oh, wonderful writers
With your passion and fire.
Oh, winsome word-lovers,
Lay your fingers on the lyre.

Build a song without tune.
Call wild to the moon.

Change the Earth into Sea.
Set sacred Calliope free.

Words can plant an invisible field.
A book can launch a billion minds.
Poems unlock heart-shaped doors.
When the world is lost; a story finds.

Summon the magic for us now.
Flourish of cape and take a bow.

Tip of the hat, toss of a rose
For those who risk all to compose.

Not a soul can imagine
What miracles you bear.
Oh, giver of life,
Creator from air.

Woven words loom done.
Golden threads you have spun.

So think. Reach. Write. Give birth.
Thank you for sharing all of your worth.