This story took me a little over a year to finally get done. It is called Kindred. It is about 55,000 words. I have it out to three first readers at this time. I hope to open it up to a group of second readers in the coming weeks. I am yet to work on a query letter for it. I also hope to start on my third work of fiction drama shortly. I have included a small chapter below by way of an excerpt. 5. The Third of July Ray sat on the steps of the porch watching Blain Travers assist a neighbor whose home had suffered significant damage from the quake. He didn’t particularly care for the cup of heavily sugared chamomile tea his grandfather had forced into his hands, but he couldn’t deny the calming effect it had on his nerves. He thought about how the bitterness in the strong brew seemed to overtake the sweetness in it as the warm liquid gently swirled up into his palette with each sip. It reminded him of the events from two days ago, bitter-sweet in so many ways: his impulsive decision to run, against all odds, into the cave, the upbeat mood of the group as it followed his lead, the shock of realizing one of them was left behind, the relief at finding Nabeel alive and well, the frantic pace that he and Nabeel worked at as they moved the fallen rocks in the hopes of finding Cory. All of it played back in […]
Biding our time fighting the flu, Staring at objects that come in our view. Amaryllis, silent, you Rest on vase with naught to do, Stalk of green, and root of brown, Waiting for your crimson crown; How long will the waiting be, Amaryllis, patiently?
Inspired by Arthur Rimbaud’s Eternity How can the reaches of a mortal mind Encompass what defies encompassing, To plumb the depths of time and space to find The secrets that such explorations bring. This fascination makes my inward eye Reflect upon the play of earth and sun: How rays of gold that wash the morning sky Drip crimson when the turn of day is done Until they kiss the sparkle of the sea; And when I see the jewels of the night, I know the sun is rising though it be For but a new beholder of its sight. While minds are strained and spent in time and space, Do hearts approach eternity by grace.
On the blessed birth of Jesus, the son of Mary. Note: I didn’t mean for this to follow the meter of Away in a manger, it just happened. How sweet is the song Of a stream in the wild That softens its rush At the coos of a child; How sweet is the song Of the leaves in the breeze That rustle and fall On the weary knees And hands of a maiden So pure as the dawn Caressing the face Of her baby that shone; How sweet is the song Of the grass that is green, Where showers of dates Meet the water serene; How sweet is the song Of the angels that span The space and the time Which with Adam began. This Word from the Lord So conceived in the morn: How blessed the child In a day that is born.
The week is behind us, the weekend’s ahead As Friday reminds us: be happy instead. There’s food’s on the table, and health in our hands, We’ve got no worries and we haven’t any plans; We do our hair and our nails after taking our showers, And dress up in clothes all embroidered with flowers; We moisten our hearts, plant the sweetest of words In the soil of remembrance, a home to the birds: Every verse spreads its wings, rises high up to fly Through a love like the meadow and a faith like the sky Till it reaches its perch in the tree of my heart, Where it lives on forever, to never depart, And the song from this tree on this day of the week Brings believers and angels each other to seek, Now if Friday were my day, I’d make it so long Till my heart joins the rhythm in the beat of this song. The week is behind us, the weekend’s aheadAs Friday reminds us: be happy instead. There’s food’s on the table, and health in our hands, We’ve got no worries and we haven’t any plans.