"A collection of my thoughts, feelings, and emotions, to the world around me"
Welcome back, join me and my continuing conversation about my thoughts, feelings, and emotions to the world around me.
In this episode, I talk about how seeing a white dove helped me decide to change my life. How sometimes the hardest job can be taking a new one. And, how the universe speaks to us. Oh, and as always, I throw in a poem and a quote for good measure.
Enjoy!!
Tools of a writer are the keys to the written. Remember your keys. Try a few, unlock those words. – Ash
I am in the middle of the ocean with no shore
at night when there is no day
wading in silence, not worth a sound
barely swimming above the darkness of my abyss
tired, weak… alone
the deep is calling
its black swallowing light
there are monsters showing beneath
I can’t tell if they feed or if they need
the pieces of me that sink here to the bottom
phantoms in the fathoms pull me under
I will see waves no more
if I drift down too far below my surface
Leroy Dink. “Dinks” was the Willy Wonka of arcades. He was strange, odd, socially awkward, and moody. Unlike the chocolate factory, there was no need for a golden ticket to get into his whimsical haven for kids. Nope…if Dinks liked you and you had money to spend, you were welcome. If Dinks didn’t like you and you had money to spend, the money was welcome. Oh, and another thing about Dinks. If he really wasn’t fond of you, well, let me just say this. There’s no free men when he makes you play for your own life.
white
white everywhere
no walls
no floor
no ceiling
just white
am I touching anything
am I alive
where is the door through which I come
did I walk through by will
is this punishment for the black
is this void now my penance
I feel no love
I feel no loss
where are my memories
tell me what sin lead me here
I can’t see in this light
because of my darkness
Here’s the original Story Jot that started this tale. For continuity, (Please Click Here)
Aeryn: Sister, you’re injured. We should stop. That is a lot of blood coming out of that wound.
Adria: It’s fine. We don’t have time to stop. Those humans won’t be stopping, so we cannot afford to. Let’s keep on moving. You know the plan.
Aeryn: I know the humans are on us, I remember the plan, but we just need to slow down enough so we can heal you. Come, take hold of my hand.
Aeryn moves close to her sister who by now has no use of her entire left side. She could barely keep herself in flight. The gunshot wound she received from a shower of bullets sprayed at them during their escape was looking more and more serious. As soon as Adria got ahold of her sister’s hand, both began to glow. They flew in a trance-like state with their eyes closed as Adria’s wound began to heal and her skin slowly started to grow over. Colour came rushing back into her face and body and the blood stopped right away. She was healing.
Continue reading “Story Jot # 7 – Dark Twins (Continued)”
when the blueberries come back…so do you
we’re together again
scraping and scrounging along the hillside
every three paces we fill our cups
the colour blue today is for happiness
its sweet taste…a reminder of your touch
as I hold a few on the day they first appear
the air is the same chill
trees with the same tinge of change
cloud shadows still pass over me like they did
I see them at my feet
I am seven again
catching up with your pace
as my bucket spills over
on blueberry hill
no idea where I was going
where my footsteps were taking me
not long off the bus and my bags still hanging off the borrowed bed
I’m running toward something
my faith in a girl next door relationship
built on the stock of only a few summers
we were school break friends and I just had to see this
according to everyone
and everyone was going to be there
that was the promise and with a pinky swear
I was a nervous boy in a foreign land
on loan from thirteen-year-old best buds
speaking only the language of the shy and quiet ones
making what would become a beautiful memory
under the bright big moon
along the sparkle-kissed river
surrounded by the sounds of the teenage
on a warm night in August
by the trestle bridge
