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Poetry Award!

I am pleased to announce that my poem, Dearest Wife:, has been honored as Winner of the Poetry Palace Perfect Poet Award Week 50. The post and poem follow: Read the rest of this entry »

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Dearest John:

This a short excerpt (Chapter 2, actually) of a novella I wrote, but did not publish, about ten years ago. The story is what I imagine could become of us if we continue down the path we now tread. Tyranny has been subtly stalking us for many years but is now charging full speed, and with rabid determination. As with the woman in my story, we lovers of freedom and liberty may be left wondering if perhaps it would have been better had we not awoken from our slumber. In my opinion, that would only be true if we die in our sleep. JMHO

Dearest John:

woman and lighthouseThe woman stood alone, the sparkling sand cool on her bare feet, watching the ship approach. While her heart yearned that it be real, she knew it could not be. It appeared ancient, though its white sails stood in sharp contrast to the dawn sky. The sun was rising and it caused the sails to glow as though they were lighted by florescent tubes; pristine blue waters shimmered in its glow. The lighthouse at the tip of the isle, she knew to be real, though she wondered if its purpose had changed. She thought it to be a guardhouse these days, and below it she assumed were barracks where the men were kept. She could hear them singing in the deep of night; always the same song; always low and reverent in tone. She prayed that was where they’d taken John. She prayed he was still alive. She prayed for Amazing Grace.

The fence which divided the island was tall and electrified; generators ran day and night to supply power to the island. The women on this side were allowed to roam free, and ventured often to the fence in hopes they might glimpse, even for a moment, one of the men they listened to each night. They saw no sign of life and agreed among themselves the men were never allowed outside.

A tear slipped down her cheek; the gown she wore rustled in the breeze, and the worn piece of paper she held in her hand fluttered, as well. She looked down at it, wondering would her husband’s eyes ever read the words she’d written upon it:

Dearest John: I awoke as the last of them was leaving. He turned and saw me staring, and I wonder had I not stirred and lifted my head, if they would they have left me there, to find you gone when later I opened my eyes. I have not been  nor have I been harmed nor mistreated in any way. We are kept in comfortable rooms on this island. There are men on the other side. We hear them singing at night. I pray you are there. I pray you are safe. I know you are still alive. I can feel you. Were you gone, I would know. If this note finds its way to you, please, know I love you. They asked me one day if I would die for you. I said yes, and they laughed. but I will if it comes to that. The guard is coming now! I must go!

P.S. – I am not afraid.

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Dearest wife:

This is something new! I’m posting this new original work to Free Write Friday, in response to their Postcards Home. The prompt is as follows:

Close your eyes for a moment and imagine you are far from home. The reason does not matter, you could be in prison in a foreign country, you could be held hostage for ransom… you could have been swept away by a magical elf who stole you for his bride, it doesn’t matter.
All that matters is that you are gone and away from everyone and everything you know and love. Now this may evoke happiness because you desperately needed this time alone… or you may feel sadness and anxiety because you could never imagine being suddenly separated from your life and everything in it. Either way, you are completely isolated.

Now, you have the ability to send one postcard home. What would you say?

This is my post card home: Read the rest of this entry »

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