Thursday, November 24, 2016


Hello! I know it's been a while but life and all that, you know. I would like to share a piece with you that I wrote several years ago. It was a flight of fancy during an autumn storm. I hope you enjoy.

Adieu! Until next time.....


The land is nestling in for winter.                                            
Earth, moist from new rain, permeates
The brisk air with heady, acrid smells.

Nature’s labor of summer bears fruit.
A royal cache of gold leaves, red apples, purple berries;
Field and wood, burdened with bounty.

A cerulean sky filled with puffy white clouds
That scurries quickly by on a rapidly swelling wind.
They know what’s coming.

The trees sway gently then suddenly,
Winds of imposing strength
Push and shove them into a fevered dance.

The brightness scowls into darkness, winds howl and whip.
Summer’s bounty falls to earth as a bruised sky weeps;
Sad at the loss of autumn’s glorious embellishments.

Gone as abruptly as it came, the dark sky grows blue.
The air, brisk with chill, hurries winter gatherers to pillage
The spoils of disasters spill.

The earth draws closer in, she whispers to her charges,
 “It is coming, fall deeper into rest,
 Time now for sleep, time to refresh.”

Sunday, September 25, 2016

Thursday, September 22, 2016

World View

The Press is on.

Not the media press, The Press.

Imagine you are viewing the world from space. Imagine you have the ability to see the whole world at once, the sphere in totality; you would be awed, amazed at it's beauty. Certainly, I would. In your amazement you draw closer, you wish to see this globe suspended in space. Soon you see the moon and then the earth itself, the haze of it's atmosphere, the slight tug of its gravitational pull. Soon there are clouds whirling in violent masses over the surface of the planet, you feel the unseen wind as you break into air. (Please do not interject logic here. Of course you would burn. We are imagining.) However, as you draw closer to the surface you see that it looks as if it is boiling. Picture this planet coated in a thick, viscous substance dotted with huge gaseous bubbles erupting with immeasurable violence, millions of them exploding around the globe creating fires, famine, sickness and fear all seething under earths' crust, rolling, exploding, destroying. What is this thing?

 It is The Press.

Let us come back now to the real and the present. Our space travel was certainly imaginary. The Press however, is not. Everyone feels it even if they are unaware of it. No one escapes. Stress, strain, tension; they are not The Press. They are results of it. Fear, terror, anxiety, uneasiness, worry, annoyance, exasperation, irritation; these are not The Press. They are by products of it.

The population of this world, as well as the world itself, are under the crushing, destroying power of The Press. That real, unseen yet felt, ethereal presence that whips frenzy to its' peak, twists minds, warps emotions and blotches the soul; that is The Press and its' menace has invaded. We are under attack. Well, in saying that I open myself up to much criticism. But I do not speak of beliefs, religious or otherwise. I see it as a practical fact that some thing is gaining control over the peoples of our planet. It may be nothing more than our rotten dispositions taking reign, our greediness pushing for more, our lusts gone unabated, it could be just that. Yet, isn't that more than reason enough?Something cannot run wild and be leashed at the same time. What monsters grow from within ourselves?

There is the comforting description of a diamond from coal, a beautiful result of pressure. However, that is a specifically applied pressure, one that is ingrained in the design of the earth. Man can manufacture diamonds, but I think that, in a sense, they are forgeries. The two diamonds will appear the same but one has endured for thousands of years and the other perhaps only a few months. The press exerted upon a piece of coal that results in a diamond is a productive press. The Press upon our world and ourselves is not. We shall harden, or shatter.

I do not think that The Press is of a benevolent nature. As I said before, I see it as destructive. So, we find ourselves in a fix. The Press is here. It will not leave until it accomplishes whatever a thing like this wishes to. Think on it. You feel it, you know it is real and true. Our communal existence depends on recognizing this specter and our personal existence is already in the gravest danger for not noticing it sooner! Examine yourself, survey your life, your world and find the weaknesses, for it is there that The Press pushes in to break you, defeat you. It's time to raise our eyes and see our world and where we are, not bend our necks to technology and individualism; for in doing that, looking up and out, you will have some power in the fight with this intangible, invisible thing. Do not discount this out right, take time to consider it.

Just watch your back. We are at war.

Adieu! Until Next Time......

Tuesday, August 11, 2015

                                        To Cry Or Not To Cry

I cry. Not so much anymore. I suppose I cried enough as a child that I worked it out!? Now, my inner voice tells me how long I may cry. Sometimes it's not long enough to wash out the........ 

Cry baby, hmm.  Babies cry but why are you a baby if you cry often? It takes maturity to realize it's time to cry, and time to move on.

I offer up to you several quotes on the subject of crying. Ruminate please.

Adieu    Till Next Time

"To weep is to make less the depth of grief."
                                               William Shakespeare

"There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition and of unspeakable love."

Washington Irving

"No tears in the writer, no tears in the reader. No surprise in the writer, no surprise in the reader"     Robert Frost

"I cry very easily. It can be a movie, a phone conversation, a sunset-tears are words waiting to be written" Paulo Coelho


Saturday, January 24, 2015



 I have been gifted,  I have tasted the sweetness of life..

I have seen the sharp clarity of trees flowers, faces.

I have felt the transcendence of caressing voice and music.

In my hollow heart, the giant beast of loss.

A raging surge of anger in argument, alive, vital.

The bitter sweet bite of emotional blood;

leaving the raw taste of iron.

The heat of life screaming through veins found lazy,

 an unfocused vision lost to the mundane.

Beauty ablaze, the fine edge of pain sharpening all senses.

Grief will not win. I will rise and soar once more;

Banner above, head held high, pain now passion.

Never really gone.



Sunday, October 26, 2014



I was going through my journal today and found several quotes that I would like to share.  Some are anonymous, some not. I try to memorize them but I am not having much luck at that. Good thing I write them down!


A “soft” day. The Irish use the expression to describe a day that is misty and grey. What a beautiful way to use the word.

“If you cheat, may you cheat death.”
“If you steal, may you steal a woman’s’ heart.”
“If you fight, may you fight for a brother.”
“And If you drink, may you drink with me.” Anonymous

“The less you talk, the more people think about your words.” Anonymous

“The soul is born old but grows young. That is the comedy of life. The body is born young and grows old. That is the tragedy of life.”    Oscar Wilde

“I like you. Your eyes are full of language.”  Anne Sexton

“Sometimes you have to kind of die inside in order to rise from the ashes and believe in yourself, and love yourself, to become a new person.”  Gerard Way

“I will either terrify you or amuse you.”    Random Writer

” To be too large for worry, too noble for anger, too strong for fear, and too happy to permit the presence of trouble.”    Christian D. Larsen


“Light is not always innocent nor dark always wrong in heart.”   Anonymous


“Submitted for your approval…….”    Rod Serling, The Twilight Zone

adieu….until next time

Friday, October 17, 2014

Excerpt from The Oracle Ophelia

Do blogs always have to be about something real? I was wondering because I would like to share a short piece of my book. It just went on the market at the end of June. So far sales are p-o-o-r! but, I have faith.

It's a fantasy, or is it? Dark and light battling out as they have since time began, since Cain killed Abel. Darkness resides in all of us as does light. Which rules you? The darkness is strong right now. We need the light for if not, the consequences are dire. Look up, look inside, look around and fill yourself with the light awaiting to help you sustain.


The wind began to rise and dark clouds covered the moon. Soon the curtains were tangling in the howling wind as lightning crashed and thunder boomed. The sleeping Ophelia made no effort to rise while her spirit watched with intense, unemotional eyes. A void without light appeared suddenly at the foot of her bed. Her mind’s eye watched it slowly take form. Emerging from the tempest, his darkness visible and foul, was Ophedius. He did not know she watched him step next to her sleeping figure. She had never spoken to or seen the Lord of Darkness, but her spirit recoiled at the depravity emanating from the pulsing void. She hesitated to acknowledge his presence, fearing it would only increase his power, but as she watched the vile creature reach to touch her sleeping face, she could hold her voice no longer.

 "Do not dare to touch me.” Her voice was frozen, throaty, hanging heavy in the air. 
The black lord stopped mid-movement, looking to find the source of the disembodied voice. His expression became quizzical when he could find none. “Well, your strength grows, my dear. To what do I owe the honor of you addressing me?” He peered around the room as he spoke, watching the sleeping Ophelia closely, making sure it was not a bit of trickery. 

“I have no fear of you, Ophedius. Leave me. There is no place for you here.” She watched the confusion on the doughy face grow more complex. The storm was subsiding and the clouds began to pull away from the moon, allowing silver light to pierce the gloom. 

The essence of darkness wavered. He did not have the power to sustain on Abysmal. “I will leave you, my dear, but with a reminder that I was here.” Slowly, he bent and placed a kiss upon her breast, where her heart lay beneath.

available at Amazon and BarnesandNoble - online only