Regel

The topic of Wyvern hung weightless in the air. Regel's imagination began to postulate possible reasons why his friend did not answer the question of the then young Lizard. Many years had passed and lizards like people change. Years had changed me perhaps the same was true of him. Wyvern was an Elder in spite of his youth and a driving force of the pen is mightier. "I would love to hear about him if you care to share any news." The silence had it's own conversation.

Regel smiled with the warm greeting from the pennites. Sitting with his old friend Peredhil, Regel waved to both Snypiuer and Zatar. As his eyes adjust to the light he took a closer look at his old friend's face. "Time has been kind to you old friend. You look...different. Not sure exactly what it is but you seem happier. Snypiuer was kind enough to give me a hand finding my way back here." The two old friends laughed and drank recalling old stories and catching up on recent events. " So I have to ask what ever happened to the young lizard?"

After a long absence a familiar figure stands in the doorway. The Tavern of the Quill seemed quiet and tranquil. The hooded figure saw the orderly state of the room and wondered if that crazy lizard he befriend years ago was still around. The road weariness hung on him heavily and his thoughts ran to old friends and wondered how many might still remember him. Peredhil his old friend and ally must certainly still be part of this esteemed writers guild. The Cabaret Room reminded him of another tavern the SteelDragon. He looked to a dark corner table and sat down. Facing the exits and looking for escape routes was so ingrained into his psyche he was not even really aware of his actions. He had joined the pen is mightier fifteen years ago. He was old then and much older now. Regel dropped his hood and rested his head on his forearms. It was still dark and quiet, just like he liked it. The old man quickly dosed off.

There is a closeness between brothers that is quite often hard to find when things are going well. When things go bad and this was definately bad the bond between brothers lays bare and as tired and emotionally beat up as I was I had to endure my older son's confusion and anger over what had just transpired. He was convinced that his brother had taken some bad drugs and that the whole thing had some how gotten off the rails. I filled him in on the anxiety attacks and the curious behaviour I had observed, I went on to explain the circumstances that led us here, He was in shock. The cold reeality was sinking in and he had yet to accept it. By the time he went to see his brother he had already missed the wrestling match that ensued between Chris two hospital security guards and a city police officer. He found him as I had left him in a locked holding cell strapped into a hospital bed. The process had drained me, I waited as he disappeared and spoke to his brother. The story he spun for his brother was half way plausible. He had indeed taken some bad drugs and that the whole thing was a bad mistake and that both Mom and Dad were in some sort of mob that was out to get him. All he needed was to get his meds and get out of this place. "Just loosen the straps and help me get out." I had already tried to prepared him for this and explained that once admitted by a Doctor anyone trying to help him leave would be charged. My oldest son realized he was in a locked room and only security guards would open the door. The city police officer he passed easily out weighed him by one hundred pounds and six inches and so even if he was considering the possiblilty of helping his heavily sedated leave the building he must of realized we would have spent that morning in jail. My eyes were starting to fold. It was 1:45 am. He would not be admitted until the morning probably around 8:30- 9:30. That information came from an emergency nurse that felt pity on me while I sat a waited. I told my oldest son that I was heading home. He insisted on staying with Chris a little longer (he stayed until 3:30 am). I headed back to the parking lot a pattern I would repeat many times in the days to come.

We settled into our room and crashed into our two singles. The room was surprisingly clean and the large windows and high ceilings made the room extremely bright. It made sleeping rather difficult inspite of the fatigue. I am not sure why but all attempts I made to sleep failed. So I decided to rattle a coat hanger I had brought from home on the night stand between the two beds. Rattle rattle rattle...an eye opened on Dominic's once sleeping face and then it quickly closed. Rattle rattle rattle...it commenced again, Domenic opened both eyes this time and giggled. The goofiness was brought on by road fatigue but the bright room was equally to blame. "Your a child." Domenic said to me matter of factly, rattle rattle rattle, I responded with the wire coat hanger. We looked at each laughed out loud at the insanity and decided to fine someplace to eat breakfast.

As I recall this YMCA in the center of San Francisco was a busy place.There were four wickets where people were signing in or out settling their bill or checking in. Once again we were forced to line up and wait which I was more then pleased to do. Tired as I was I knew the wait would absolutely infuriate my cousin Don and that was a sight I never grew tired of. While we waited we people watched. Weirdness lived here. I pointed out a very tight pair of jeans standing in stiletto heels with big blonde hairdo and a pink scarf about five people up and two lines over. I nudged Domenic with an elbow and gave a head nod in the right direction. His spirits brightened and as luck would have it our line moved up faster until soon we were almost even with the tightly packaged blue jeans. About this time the object of our admiration turned to her left, looked at us and smiled. The heart shaped glasses etch hearts in the corner the frame caught my eye first, a half second later I realized we had both been staring for ten minutes at a guy's ass. We both turned away dumbfounded and shook our heads."That's fucked up." whispered my cousin. I just smiled. The YMCA had served as a cheap alternative to a camp ground and in the absence of a youth hostile it was heaven sent at ten dollars a night. We got checked in and walked over the the elevator with our bags and pressed the button. The doors opened and as we walked in I asked "What floor" Domenic answered "We are on the third floor 310." As I pressed the button for the third floor and waited for the door to close I was staring at the the sign the said "Women's floor are even numbers and Men's floor odd". They segregated men and women on different floors to prevent anything untoward. This might have made sense in the 50's but this was the 1970's baby! The satire and irony of the rule was best enjoyed later after we both got some much needed sleep.

Thanks for the comments. Deserts can be desolate places but it is definately not lifeless and they can be very beautiful. It is appropriate to call it winsome in this particular case. Three hours into the visit of the Nevada State Park I looked up quietly and say out loud "... you had fun making this one didn't you?"

There is a starkness to the imagery your poem created in it's rough form that I liked very much. I find constructing a poem for me works best when I have a fully form image in my mind or at the very least a fully understood emotional reaction. Your poem seems to have both. The location is vague, the colours assumed, the situation critically grave but the imagery cyrstal clear at least too me.

Rust bleeding through desert sand Yellow sun, a stark blue sky Wind blown shaded grottos sigh Red rocks and yellow grey strands Mauve against a faded green Vistas like I've never seen Softly painted desert lands Carved into a surreal style Winsome like her fading smile

Dear Pen Diary, I had a momentous occasion this past Father's Day. My eldest son and my daughter in law are expecting. My wife and I will soon be first time Grandparents. I am overwhelmed with happiness. Sometime after Christmas early January is the due date and trust me, there will be pictures. Sorry for my long absence. I will try and post more frequently. Good bye for now Regel (soon to be Grandpa Regel)

Troubled and disturbing imagery and a vivid use of language the ambiguity keeps me the reader asking many questions all answered in a way by the title.

They finally assessed him and admitted him later that night. As we were asked to move into the treatment area my son became increasingly aware of his restrictions. He was asked to go into a room that was a little more than a cell with a bed in it. Chris wanted no part of that room and so he asked to use the bathroom. They showed him where that was and he went in and locked the door behind him. About 5 minutes later I was knocking on the door because another patient needed to use it. Chris was frightened and I knew talking him out was going to be difficult. I also knew that the security guard would be next so I pleaded with him to come out. When it became apparent that he wasn't going to comply they used a key and opened the door by force. Chris resisted and a second security guard was radioed in. The first guard was big the second was even bigger and together they were still having a hard time controlling my son. At 5'9" and 135lbs Chris was cursing writhing around with strength brought on by fear driven adrenaline. I had had enough and moved to moderate their man handling of my son. "You don't need to hurt him just let him calm down I shouted at the first guard. A police officer had brought in what appeared to be a troubled woman and came into this scene and ask me who I was. The similarity in appearance between me and my son was obvious to anyone with two eyes. I looked at him directly in the eyes and in my calmest voice I said "I am the boy's father". They asked Chris to confirm my identity and Chris still being restrained by two guards hissed out " I don't know who that is but he is trying to hurt me. I don't want him here. Get him away from me!" I was stunned and hurt by these words and the police officer a seasoned patrolman of some years turned to me and said “I am sorry sir you will have to leave" and I was escorted to the outer waiting area. 11:45 pm and my phone rang I was unable to see who it was at first because my eyes were blurry. I answered and said "Hello." It was my oldest son "Hey dad. What's going on? What has happened to Chris? Why is he in hospital? Where are you?" and finally "I am on my way."

A hunger wakes me from my sleep It gnaws on my soul A penchant, a seed, a silhouette My mind is chasing down a hole. Mired in some emptiness Devoid of thought or deed Hunger the epitome of need.