He sits on a throne in the middle of the room. Remote in hand… “Get me a drink, will you , Babe?” He smiles irresistibly … and they all beckon. He is the chosen one, living life properly. Giving examples as he sees fit… as a father to his child, and the family of subjects… Continue reading The Chosen One
Category: Poetry
When I Was Nine
When I was Nine I was fully aware Avid about Campfire The best Singer The best Reader Loved Paper Mache Silk Worms Dancing Duncan Buchannan …and Kissing Under Water When I was Nine
Antonio, Antonio
He lies in repose wrapped in linen, his beard and long white hair a mantle around his face and shoulders… framing his now peaceful golden aura, Antonio. The men are playing music – a sitar, a doumbek, a nose flute… all the tribes are represented; while the women dance in a circle spiking each chorus with… Continue reading Antonio, Antonio
Boxing Day
Every year I promises myself, “I won’t cry at Christmas.” But every year I do. I cry about the the story itself. I cry when I hear the music of the season, especially “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” when I think of all the soldiers on deployment. I cry for friends and family far and… Continue reading Boxing Day
The Hawthorn Tree
Robins land on the branches heaving their pendulous breasts. Gallumphf! Chortle! Chortle! Gobbling the Haws – ripe and succulent – a dozen or more. Will they be entranced like Sleeping Beauty? Or live forever like Tuck Everlasting? Gallumphf! Chortle! Chortle! The tree stands firm in the waning light… allowing this final grooming before its barren… Continue reading The Hawthorn Tree