Autumn Storm

Rolling thunder long and low, rattles the glass pane in the old front door. Tattered shingles run free with rain as wind plays at their corners, attempting to set them free. Lightning casts stark shadows throughout the old dark house. A rap at the back door and she shuffles with her light to reveal a…

The Case Of The Missing Pipe part Five

Okay folks, this is the last episode of “The Case Of The Missing Pipe.” This was first published last year on the “Pipesmagazine” website. Enjoy! The Case Of The Missing Pipe Part Five “Hey Cap’n, we got a live one here!” Police captain James Richards had responded to a ‘shots fired’ call at the Gialone…

The Artist

Guiding the vibrating machine with practiced fingers, the steel tip, darting in and out like a venomous fang. The colors are delivered, blended and shaded into a work of art on a living canvas. Talking and laughing while she works, in her zone she creates dreams on skin.

On Turning Sixty

I’ve never given much thought to birthdays, but as I turned sixty on Wednesday, I feel compelled to write about it. Birthdays, like the calendar and the clock, are man made measurements of time. I’ve never felt that time, specifically the measurement of it, was all that important. Except maybe when you’re wondering what time…

One Missed Breath

The ethereal beauty of pink tinged clouds, of mist over silver water, of the silence of still air, of golden sunlight, seen through trees, induces for one breath holding moment a deep longing for lives I’ve never lived, loves I’ve never held, grief I’ve never known.

Roadside Art In The Rain

Trickles of rain water run from pavement to pea gravel, gravity pulling them, no will of their own, to find the soil that holds the roadside flowers. Clear drops cling to petals and leaves, gently falling to mingle for a moment with their wet cousins from the road and then become one, soaking the ground.…

The Case Of The Missing Pipe part Four

Here is part four of my continuing story, The Case Of The Missing Pipe. First published on pipesmagazine.com Once inside the house, Sam told Mary not to turn on the lights. He produced a flashlight from inside his coat. Along with this he carried his revolver in the shoulder holster and his 45 in a…

Thoughts

A casual glance, a comment, a smile, a casual reply. Thoughts, like tiny ants running. She looks at him coolly over the rim of her coffee cup. He could be an Olympic athlete, make pretty babies. What? Where did that come from? She’s attractive, he thinks. He wonders what kind of music she likes. Would…

Carnival Of The Mind

Losing himself to the madness of his uncontrolled mind, he fell headlong. And in those dark recesses the demons came midnight blue to red in tooth and claw, as it was once said. They set up shop, selling their wares in his pre frontal cortex, the best and worst carnival ride ever. The panting, drooling…

Waiting

Blue haired, big bosomed old ladies in their knee high hose driving thirty in a fifty five heading to church, sleepy eyed fisherman in pickup trucks heading for the public access, a farmer with a giant round hay bale stuffed into the back of his truck heading to his cows and one, solitary white swan…

Broken Bottle

The words of “A Free Man In Paris” wander through my mind as I walk this empty road early, with a breeze blowing aspen leaves like the applause of a distant crowd. A bead of sweat forms on my temple, my own personal dew drop, a sparkling physical sign of the humidity that hangs relentlessly…

Heat

Trapped in our houses, we can’t get out. The air so hot, it’ll turn you about. Sun beating down, relentless with heat. No point in cooking, can’t even eat. Sitting in stillness shimmering with sweat. The weather forecast; no relief as yet. Dog so hot she lies in a puddle. The wife so hot, too…

Two Poems

Here’s a couple poems that came to me today. Life Life, staring at life. Life is not like a box of chocolates. Life is a box of cereal. Original or cinnamon. Life is original. Life is cinnamon? On the grocery store shelf sits Life. A whole row of Life. Original or Cinnamon. Life is sad,…

The Case Of The Missing Pipe part Three

Parts One and Two are available in earlier posts. If you haven’t read this yet, check them out! The Case Of The Missing Pipe, part Three “My husband knew he was going to die,” recalled Mary Gialone. “He knew.” Mary and Sam Barton were sitting in Sam’s friend Scarlet’s living room. For reasons as varied…

Status Quo

another man dead another family grieves another life wasted people ask why why why why the roots of racism are easy to see if you look with the right spirit slavery when you are used to superiority equality feels like oppression equality breeds fear in those who feel superior fear breeds hate hate makes people…