22
December

Finding Rest – Rick Stephen

Finding Rest

I wonder if it is better
to die and have life cease
or to live, lifelessly,
without hope
to die ends all hope
but to live without hope
is much worse
and far more cruel
for in dying
there is rest from hope
but living without hope
this is not so
for to be human
is to have always
in the heart of hearts
the hope of hope,
the mere possibility
and so there is no rest
the hope of hope
is always there
teasing,
torturing
I understand now
why death
is euphemistically called
entering into eternal rest
I wonder which is better

2 comments

14
December

Alone In The Crowd – Rick Stephen

Large crowd of peopleI sat by myself
in a crowd today
just another seat
filled anonymously
not unlike
so many others around me
and a woman
somewhere near
wore your perfume
I knew it instantly
and as if by instinct,
breathing in deep,
I closed my eyes
and was taken away
the crowd vanished,
the din faded
and there I was
alone in the crowd
with you

5 comments

12
December

The Train Doesn’t Stop Here by Rick Stephen

train

Waiting at the depot
darkness having longed chased
the last tinge of color
from the inky-black sky
a darkness perforated only
by the brightest few stars

I stand here alone
it’s late,
damp and cold
a fog builds in the distance
my breath fills the air
with swirls and curls of mist
drifting before my face
that spread out, then vanish
I think to myself,
“Now there’s a metaphor!”
while turning up my collar
against the chill
a shiver runs down my spine
I’m not sure
if it’s from the cold
or the irony of the metaphor
I laugh under my breath

My eyes anxiously alternate
between the watch on my wrist
and the tracks off in distance
it’s late, dammit, it would be
it couldn’t be on time today
damn you, Murphy!

Still, I look
leaning over the edge of a platform
illuminated by a lone,
flickering floodlight
straining to spot,
hoping to see
the glint of a headlight
piercing the distant blackness
the first sign even before
the wail of a horn or
the sound of diesel or
the clack of unforgiving wheels
on cold, steel tracks
the first sign
that tells me my long, bleak,
wearisome wait
will shortly be over

6 comments

13
November

Found Memories by Rick Stephen

Found Memoriesbaseballglove1

In the back of the closet
of my old room
in my parent’s house
I found my old baseball mitt
in a box, creased and torn
barely held together
by yellowed packing tape
and full of things
Mom hadn’t the heart
to toss out
once I’d left home for good

Thank goodness
for it was, to me,
a box of memories
and at the bottom
under various and sundry toys,
photos and memorabilia
there it was, pressed flat
save the well-worn ball
cradled in its webbing
I picked it up slowly
like it deserved reverence

I looked it over, turning it in my hand
looking at the leather stitching,
the marks and mars of heavy use
my name, faded,
barely visible on the wrist strap
I slid my hand inside
tighter today than it was then
I fanned my fingers opening the glove
revealing the ball, more brown than white,
scuffed and scraped,
frayed red stitches running ’round it

I flipped the ball into the air
and was rewarded
with the pleasing sound
of ball striking glove
instinctively
I buried my face in the cowhide
and the familiar smell
of leather and oil,
sweat, red dirt and grass
triggered strong memories
of a young boy

A young boy
simultaneously excited,
anxious and afraid
fidgeting, out in right field
praying the ball not come to him
but hoping that it would, waiting
for his chance to shine
and looking into the stands
for his Dad,
always there,
always cheering him on

Dad gave me this glove
it was old, used
money was tight around our house
but I didn’t mind, I understood
even at that tender age
Mom calling me for dinner
snapped me from the past
I had to pry the child’s glove
from the hand of a man
and pulling hard on the wrist strap
underneath, I saw what I’d not seen before

A name, not mine
“Billy” scrawled there, Dad’s name
mixed feelings flooded me
and I thought, why?
Why would he not tell me
this had been his glove?
Was he ashamed
he couldn’t afford a new one?
How did he not know this glove,
his glove, would be worth more to me
than all the gloves in the world?

10 comments

5
November

Golden Season – a new haiku by Sannel Larson

sannelsittingMy dear friend Sannel Larson has been a busy lady of late. She has published several children’s books, illustrated another and created a number of beautiful pieces of digital art. Which by the way, you can see and purchase on her artist website on Fine Art America.

She’s also published some new haiku including this one, Golden Season, which is absolutely wonderful! Combined with her beautiful photograph, it’s worth your time to visit. I hope you will and take the time to leave this immensely talented woman a comment. I know she will appreciate it!

3 comments

4
November

Writing, Photography and Life Priorities

Power of WordsTo say I’ve been remiss keeping this blog up is an understatement, a big understatement! I’ve let the busyness of life crowd it and other such “optional” priorities out. I say “optional” because this blog, my writing and photography in general don’t pay the bills and put food on the table. I wish they did but they don’t. So, when push comes to shove these things get shoved aside.

I’ve come to a realization though. However “optional” these things may be when it comes to life’s responsibilities, they are nonetheless necessities when it comes to my personal happiness and wellbeing. While I’ve focused on other things, I found myself increasingly frustrated, irritated and blue. I’ve realized that allowing responsibilities to crowd out these personal necessities is the cause. Writing and photography are my prime outlets for expression and creativity, things essential for my wellbeing. They are how I cope with the stress and strain of daily life.

Pushing them aside to get to my “real” priorities has been a big mistake. Oh, it may work for a while, a short while, but as my frustration and irritation levels grow my productivity and efficiency decline. In the long run, I’m better off dedicating time to my personal pursuits to ensure my mind is healthy and strong for my “real” priorities. So, what I’m really asking is this. What are my “real” priorities? What are YOUR “real” priorities? You can cut corners on some things, for a time. You can short change others but you can’t short change yourself. It will catch up with you. Just some food for thought.

5 comments

19
August

Micropoetry – 18-August-2014

as his lips roam
she quivers and moans
she shudders, she sighs
begging reprise

No comments yet

30
June

I think this is true for many writers …

plathquote

No comments yet

16
June

“You Are Perfect Just the Way You Are” by Sannel Larson

IMG_1319[1]Early childhood is an especially tender age. The foundations of personality are laid that will affect us for the rest of our lives. So much good and, unfortunately, so much damage can be done to young hearts and minds during these years. Teaching little ones that they are unique, beautiful and valuable just as they are is an important message to send during these formative years. Too often just the opposite message is conveyed to young, tender hearts; that they are ugly, too fat, too skinny, stupid or useless. Harsh words that can scar a child for life.

You Are Perfect Just the Way You Are“, is the message and the title of Sannel Larson’s most recent children’s book. Full of beautiful and colorful illustrations and a message even more so, your little ones will love the rhyming verse and receive affirmation that they are, indeed, perfect just the way they are. It’s a message children need to hear over and over again and your children will want to read this beautiful book over and over again!

It’s available here on Amazon, so grab your copy quick!

No comments yet

6
June

Summer Amnesia – Haiga by Richard Stephen

Summer Amnesia

Summer Amnesia

No comments yet

Back to top

Follow

Get every new post on this blog delivered to your Inbox.

Join other followers: