epiphany
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Posted:Sep 17, 2018 9:44 pm
Last Updated:Apr 27, 2024 8:16 am
1621 Views
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I went for a ride today. it was hot, bright but fortunately I din't have far to go. It was a warehouse 5 minutes away and it might as well be a treasure house or that gigantic warehouse from Indiana Jones where curious and wondrous artifacts are hidden away from the world. My very own cave of wonders!
It held that fleeting of marvels, the soap bubbles of time - men's (and women's) thoughts and ideas captured in paper and bound by covers. It held books.
Shelves upon shelves of books, stretching up the high ceiling, but not too high. Stack upon stacks upon row after row. And as I walked down the aisles looking at all the titles, I wondered -"what made a book interesting? what was it that held a man's eye and then his attention? I glanced at many books and if inside on their pages - I didn't read what I liked, well I wasn't going to buy it, And then it hit me, a flash of insight, like a sledge hammer hitting my metaphorical lever. The words had to be descriptive. The sentences conveying the scene and setting the tone and measuring the pace. And they had to be economical. And they would have to convey what the author was seeing because only then can we formulate our images in our mind's eye and hop onto the story. and enjoy the ride
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clouds
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Posted:Aug 6, 2018 3:12 pm
Last Updated:Aug 7, 2018 12:52 pm
1733 Views
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AUGUST 6, 2018SNAKEOILFORTHEMEDICALSOUL EDIT
clouds
I look at the sky, at a bank of clouds grey and menacing and see a whorl off to the side twisting in the freshening breeze, dancing and spinning to the side and instantly my mind goes back to over 30 yrs when I see a a similar whorl of cloud in the distance roiling in the wind and coming nearer. It was in Bangladesh that I saw it, and always accompanying the cloud is the rain falling in solid sheets, sometimes blowing vertically to blind you with its fury. What once was a bright, hot sunny day instantly becomes as pitch black as a cold night, as the massive clouds blot out the sun and the oppresive dark is broken only by the near constant flash of lightning.
We seem to have forgotten much in our lives, but the one thing I remember clearly are the rain and the storms of my childhood, whether they are the seasonal monsoons of my homeland or the sudden, furious typhoons in the countries I sojourned in. From pitch black night to crystal clear dazzling day with the world newly washed and sparkling, to drumming drops on the window with the warmth of a body close by. I sometimes wonder whether the climate is a worm hole to the past that we forget frequently and only remember on sudden whimsies. And always before the rain would be the wind and after the rain, would be the wind again, sighing between the treetops. There would a little breath at first like the first in drawing of breath a lover makes, followed by stronger gusts and then rain, thunder and lightning and after all that, the steady breath of the wind before the stillness after the storm as the world recovers and shakes itself like a newly washed animal.
I remember rain falling on my grandmother’s thatched room dripping down the coconut fronds, I remember water flowing from gutters into kettles and pots that we would use to collect it and then splashing in widening puddles before working their way to the swollen stream gurgling to the side of my grandma’s house. That stream is gone now, and my grandma’s thatched and plaster house in now a modern, concrete box. My grandma is gone too, too soon but fondly remembered.
I remember walking home from the bus stop soaking wet with the water dripping in my eyes and me, at the tender age of 10 or 11, cursing the weather and why we came home to this miserable country and then arriving at our flat. my mother telling me to get out of my wet clothes and take a shower, as if I wasn’t wet enough already. Then sitting down to a steaming bowl of soup and the warmth slowly inching its way back into my body and thinking -“hey this isn’t so bad”.
I remember the continuous rumble of thunder and the searing brightness of lighting in our house and my scrambling into my room afraid to sleep and we would cuddle together listening to the fury of the storm, the uncaring wind and the occasional splatter of water against the windows reminding us of our place in the world, in the bigger scheme of things.
Now I walk by myself on this hot day and gaze at the clouds. At their patterns at once so strange and then eerily familiar. How we know each other so well and how I’m glad to see them. That they will be constant reminders of the path I have walked and the worm hole windows to the past and that eventually, sooner or later, I will be part of them.
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random pome
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Posted:Aug 26, 2017 10:09 am
Last Updated:Apr 27, 2024 8:16 am
2736 Views
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been away for a while - relocating to the US of A
Sitting on a log by the shoreline of Lambton shoal
My life and the sky stretching away to the horizon line
Waves break at my feet, unceasing and unending to all
The quickening heart of a stirring giant under the brine
Gravel crunches underfoot, sand driven by the hostile waves
further north lies a beach with memories bittersweet
But for now I sit on my log and ponder what the heart craves
On Lambton shoals, listening to that insistent heartbeat
Gulls circle, wheel and dive in the blue vault
Early risers paying homage to this new day
Wind, unceasing as the waves, keeps them above the sault
Feathers fibrillate in uneven rhythm and feet sway
Their wings snap and move and they dive and dare
And with scarcely a look back, they stroke away
Sitting on my log and realizing lambton Shoals doesn't care
I stand up and walk to meet the new day
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#30 MAY TOPIC: DREAMS/ May the 4th be with you
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Posted:May 3, 2017 9:02 pm
Last Updated:May 9, 2017 7:16 am
6184 Views
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I did think of writing story for this topic but I couldn't get it off the ground, into space and slingshot it around the sun so here are some random thoughts and notions. Also,mainly because I did write a short story last month, I think I used up most of my words
I'm always fascinated with Tatooine, a planet with two suns.
I can't imagine a land like that but I can see it through the eyes of the marvelous storytellers and the places they describe like mos eisley, that wretched hive of scum and villany.
These places seem so real that you can envision visting places like beggar's canyon, the jundland wastes, Anchorhead. and of course, Jabba's palace
what has this to do with dreams? Well Jabba's palace has everything to do with nightmares. It's like a gigantic Pandora's box with all manner of miserable, horrible and terrible things locked up in it and yet, buried in all that miasma, at the bottom, there is hope.
Perhaps it's locked so far underground like a faint glimmer, like a bounty hunter trusting to a thermal detonator. Blind like someone with the after effects of carbonite freezing. Like light which has lost its way and finds itself trapped underground, but isn't quite ready to come to the surface.
Sometimes that's how I feel. like the weight of losing you pressing down on my shoulders and trying to grind me into the dirt, to become part of the rock, unyielding, uncaring. But that little flame, that little light sustained by the dreams is what holds the darkness at bay.
In the words of the immortal Cliff Richards
"Here am I, I'm taking a chance, In running around with stars in my eyes.
Here I am, I'm looking for you, Wondering why do I feel so blue.
I'm dreamin', dreamin' of me and you. Oh I'm dreamin', dreamin' will see me through"
Apologies for the Star Wars references - but it is May 4th after all
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#29 Participant Link APRIL Hotels/Motels where have you been?
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Posted:Apr 17, 2017 9:27 am
Last Updated:Apr 24, 2017 11:50 am
6587 Views
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There is a tale about a hotel somewhere in southwestern Ontario whispered quietly in back alleys and run down bars from Woodstock to Goderich. This hotel is supposedly magical in its charm and setting, among the pastoral fields and woods and Jack had first heard about it from a colleague of his when they were working together in the city of London, Ontario His regular place of work was at Avon but occasionally he would be farmed out to the less prosperous towns and this one was 50 kilometers from Avon. As he had to get there at 7 in the morning his friend suggested he drive in during the night and book a room at the Silver Maple B&B. He also said that he should take advantage of the Elizabeth suite as that had an outdoor hot-tub and that would be very useful in ensuring that he, Jack, woke up bright eyed and bushy-tailed the next morning.
So the following evening, Jack packed his car with the items that he might need the next day, threw an overnight bag in the back and drove down to the Silver Maple, which he reached within an hour. It wasn't easy to find as it was set a ways back from the main road and hidden behind a copse of trees. Fortunately his friend had provided accurate directions so he didn't waste too much time looking for it.
Pulling into the parking lot, he stepped out and looked around. The hotel lay back from the main road and the screen of oak and elm trees helped muffle sounds of traffic. Overheard the stars gleamed coldly with their brilliant fire in a cloudless sky and the soft lights from the hotel windows gave out a warm welcoming glow.
In the lobby an elderly gentleman, who was also the proprietor welcomed him and got his details. Jack asked about the Elizabeth suite and was informed that yes, it was available.
He placed his things in the suite and found that his friend was correct – it did indeed have an outdoor hot tub. He washed then went down for dinner.
After dinner, he relaxed in the common room which was off the main hall and his eye was caught by a large number of pictures hanging on the walls. They were mostly woodland scenes interspersed with paintings of flowing golden waves of corn but what they all had in common was bright pinpoints of light in the foreground. It was much like looking at Thomas Kincade paintings through a LSD haze. As the proprietor walked in with after dinner coffee, Jack commented on this.
“Ah yes, my old mam painted those. she said those lights were the spirits of the land brought all the way from Cornwall.”
“What? All the way from Cornwall, Ontario?” Jack joked.
“No, Cornwall, England. The old country,” the proprietor said somewhat frigidly. “A land before the Romans were just learning to crawl out from under the wolf, and the realm of the one true king. Most of the trees around the hotel were brought over as saplings and my mam said that the wood nymphs and other spirits came over with them. She was a bit strange but she believed it. Mind you she never called them fairies or elves, and I prefer wood spirits or nymphs myself.”
They chatted for a bit and then Jack, feeling he needed an early start in the morning, took himself upstairs. In the room he thought a soak in the hot tub would be a good idea as he wasn't sleepy. He removed his clothes , put on a robe and stepped out onto the small patio outside his room. He switched on the tub and heard water gushing in. He looked around and saw streamers of mist rising up from the ground. Already the lights out on the main road were looking hazy and shimmering in the cold night. As the tub filled he took of the robe and stepped in. Hot water surrounded him and he switched on the massage function. The steam from the water combined with the mist and soon he was enveloped in his own private cocoon with the outside world cut off. A feeling of lassitude enveloped him and as always when he was thinking of nothing , Nira popped into his head. She was his girlfriend of over a year but now she was his ex-girlfriend. A combination of a demotion at work, long trips away from home and the chance encounter with another man she had more affinity with, had been the perfect recipe to take her away from him
They had started going out as friends and then it had suddenly blossomed into a romance, one of the greatest romances he liked to think. They talked about everything and nothing, did everything and reveled in the touch and intertwining of their bodies It was the happiest and most fulfilling periods of his life but the fates don't like to see someone spinning a bright thread on life's dark ashcloth and just like that, it was over. Like a lead balloon falling off a cliff. For a few weeks he was like Wile. E. Coyote spinning his legs, trying to stay aloft in empty air, but then he fell to to leave a coyote sized hole in his heart. He was filled with a great sense of loss and it was always the same when he thought of her, her elfin face and chestnut hair spilling over her shoulders and covering her small breasts. She had a way of looking at him with a tilt of her head and then he would be lost in the depths of her eyes. He closed his eyes and sighed leaning his head back against the side of the tub and letting himself go, to drift upwards with the water vapor. What was meant to be was meant to be and there was nothing to be gained fighting aginst the great juggernaut of time which left fragments of memory in its wake.
He didn't know how long he lay there but then he felt a feather touch against the inside of his thigh. He was too relaxed to do anything but wonder what it was and attribute it to an eddy of one of the jets, but the next thing he felt was warm lips engulfing his cock and in a dream like state he imagined it was Nira's lips wrapped around it and sucking. He felt her lips draw upwards and then the touch of her tongue and then the plunge down again engulfing his rod right to the base. He felt hands pressing on his thighs as her mouth worked at taking him in deeper and he felt her start an up and down motion on his cock with her lips still wrapped around it. This couldn't be happening he thought. How could she be here with me now? He opened his eyes and it was the same reddish brown hair between his legs and the same green eyes looking steadily back at him. He became lost in them and wordlessly held her face, a face he knew better than his own, between his hands stroking her cheeks. She resumed sucking and licking the underside of his penis which felt as hard as mahogany and he knew that before long he would be pumping his pelvis into her willing mouth. He pulled out of her mouth reluctantly and grabbed her torso pulling her up to him and they kissed long, hard and passionately. He bit her lips and then rubbed them against her cheek, licking her face. She wriggled ad moaned a bit and then he was kissing her neck and nibbling on her earlobes and she giggled like she always did when he paid particular attention to her ears. He took her left nipple in his mouth and bit down while sucking at it and she put her hand on his head and pressed it against her chest.
"I missed you," she breathed into his ear.
He lay my head against her chest and he could hear the thudding of her heart. After a minute or so he continued to lick his way down from her nipple to her belly with little nips from his and then down to her waist. He bit her just above her pubic area and heard a sharp intake of breath before continuing lower. He massaged her pussy lips with his tongue and breathed in her aroma. It was the same heady aroma that he remembered so well and the same sweet, salty taste of her . He continued to lave her pussy with his tongue before latching on to her clit and sucking with wild abandon. Occasionally he would flick it with his tongue and then clamp his lips around it. He kept this up and before long he felt her body start to shudder and she bucked against his mouth. He flicked her clit harder and the shuddering grew in intensity and she started grinding her hips against his mouth. He wrapped his arms around her ass and held her tight and soon she gave a long gasp and started panting and her shudders built to a crescendo before she collapsed against me, her salty nectar flooding his mouth.
"I really missed you," she murmured again.
He moved between her legs and she drew them apart willingly, and with a swift and sure thrust he entered her pussy and it was heaven after so long. It felt tighter then he remembered and she gave a gasp. He held her hair tight and started to kiss her and she moved beneath him thrusting up with her hips. They kept kissing and thrusting against each other in a wild, animal frenzy and the water sloshing every where and over them as he pulled her legs up and plunged deeper into her. He knew he was going to go over the edge soon and before the orgasm hit he pulled out with a groan and moved his body upwards toward her eagerly seeking mouth and she sucked hard on him causing him to explode into her. She kept sucking and swallowed what must have been a steady stream of come as his orgasm kept rolling on and on. It eventually subsided and she let go of his cock after giving it a kiss. He rolled over beside her and lay back looking at her through a haze of steam and sexual gratification.
“Where have you been?” He murmured and she put her face close to him and kissed him.
“I've always been here”, she said and kissed him again. They lay like that for a while just comfortable with holding each other and he drifted off to sleep. When he woke, the water had become cold and in a daze he got out of the tub shivering, wrapping the robe around him. He was alone and and he looked around hoping to see Nira again, but there was just the mist around him and a sprig of heather on the floor by the tub. He picked it up looking at it as he twirled it around and in the distance, on the wind, came a soft tinkle of laughter
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who let the doggerel out?
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Posted:Apr 6, 2017 2:22 pm
Last Updated:Apr 18, 2017 7:34 am
5301 Views
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Doggerel – loosely styled and irregular poetry, irregular in rhythm and ryme and where you force words to fit in a rhyming sequence?*
Rhyme
Why do we spell rhyme as rhyme?
Is that how we did for all time?
If there's a reason for this spelling
then it must be quite telling
that there's no rime or reason
for a spelling that's out of season
Except as a subject of this poem
which just goes to show 'em
that you can contort words out of joint
just to prove your point
Then perhaps some hip rapper
will think of this while sitting on the crapper
and after things come to pass
lets hope he pulls his pants up over his ass
Forgive me guys – I'm bored but I can hope that this enlightens this gloomy week
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here's to a long flagpole :)
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Posted:Apr 1, 2017 12:27 pm
Last Updated:Apr 11, 2017 11:54 am
3907 Views
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No matter how many times I'm knocked down
I'll always hold my head high
No matter how many times I am denied
the higher I will fly
By you, I am not defined
For you, I can't be scanned
Then cataloged and filed
and rejected out of hand.
you can curb my rights
you can restrict my mobility
All these things you have the power to do
and they will end in futility.
Like a Saturn V, I'll escape your gravity
Slip through your grasping fingers
Blind you with incandescence, burning bright
Leaving you to linger
Though you seek to shift my paradigm
with your lies and statements untrue
I know I am steadfast, straight and honest
and hope you'll get what's due
You cannot restrict me
Confine, bully and drag me through the gutter
I will be soaring free
and you can play your games of silly bugger
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Song of the mouse rider
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Posted:Mar 15, 2017 7:18 pm
Last Updated:Apr 11, 2017 8:30 pm
4682 Views
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My first app was tinder which they gave me to peruse
and then upload after I had parted
And it was such a bitch to use
It left me quite retarded
Since then I've had a dozen apps and more
the wounds were slow to heal
Every night I'd be called a drip and a bore
Though I'd flick the mouse click-wheel
I burned through the list on plenty of fish
Through profiles good and bland
But would I get a like or a flirt, you wish
Nothing but crickets throughout the land
Zoosk, Badoo the list stretches to infinity
My brain and soul cease to feel
Is there no one who has any affinity
To the poor schmo glued to the mouse click-wheel
At last we come to Discreet Gay Dating
the last burning gleam of hope
'cos if this doesn't work then its grindr
for this studly yearning dope
Sometimes late at night, I want to call it quits
get my feminine side on with ally mcbeal
But after seeing all her naughty bits
it's safe to say I'm married to the mouse click-wheel
with inspiration from song of the wagon driver
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To link to this blog (morpheus701) use [blog morpheus701] in your messages.
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