Regel

Could it be that you have had just a bit too much? I often go off somewhere remote when I feel that way and basically scream my head off. When I come back I often find that the demands on my time were indeed ridiculous and that screaming was not only a natural reaction it is a tremendous stress breaker. Beat the tar out of a rug is another option.

Always the big question with you. Well my answer is yes to both as it would have to be. Why, is perhaps the bigger question? If you believe like I do that we are more than just the elements that comprise our bodies then you are also spiritual. A spirit, life force, self aware intelligence (call it what you will) exists in all of us. I was never a big on formal religon but when you are young you believe in your own invincibility. Your physical and mental quickness is all you needed, but I found out it wasn't enough. I needed to believe in something to indeed centre my life. It is where life begins to make sense, a frame for an otherwise abstract painting. I am sure that there are good and evil forces battling over these souls. I know which side I am cheering for.

And then there is Holly, a small dog with a mixed heritage (some say mutt). A lovely little black and tan shepherd-terrier cross that instantly took to me (ha-ha). She is my next door neighbor’s dog. I first met her five years ago and slowly over that period of time I have slowly won her over. When I first met her she had a serious mistrust of men, all men, including me. I can't explain why that bothered me but it did. So in spite of her cold shoulder I would always greet her and give her the space she required to feel safe. It was only through interaction with my neighbors that I began to understand why the little dog appeared to be unfriendly. She was a little over protective and fearful but intensely curious. It wasn't until the famous duckling rescue that our friendship truly began. Murray came over and mentioned that a mother duck has been stressed out because her ducklings had mysteriously disappeared down holes. They were aeration holes around a large tree on his neighbor’s property that they were trapped in. Together we sorted out which holes had a duckling to rescue and which did not. Some of these were easily reached others were too small or too deep to simply reach down and scoop them up. The first duckling was an easy scoop. The second was more difficult. The third was more difficult because we had to dig without collapsing the earth on top of the little creature. So painstakingly we dug by hand while Holly moved in ever closer to watch. She actually nudged me while I was prone on the ground and straining to reach the little yellow bundle of fluff. I almost missed it when Murray mentioned it to me "Looks like you made a friend." As I turned in the direction he motioned and looked up there was Holly looking at me. She licked my face and both of Murray and I laughed. "Now she gets affectionate!" I declare. Moments later my face which was a contortion of concentration softened into a smile. My hand gently closed around the small duckling as I pulled it out of the darkness. This one went into a box with its siblings. We had recovered the third and we were almost ready to toast our success when Holly barked a short distance away while looking down yet another hole. "What you got there Holly?" asked Murray. Murray is a gently soul and probably the fittest 62 year old man to might expect to meet. We looked at each other and sighed. Almost in unison we said "One more." This one had a slightly deeper and wider hole and was walking back and forth between two openings. Almost an hour and fifteen minutes invested in the rescue of four ducklings by two grown men. I am sure our wives were laughing because if we didn't relocate these little guys they would likely fall back into the same predicament. We crossed the street and released the four into the soccer field. Their mother must have been near by for as soon as we retreated she moved in. Seems like even Holly was pleased. After that day she started seeking me out. Did I mention I would feed her a treat once and a while? Oh yes love has it's price and for Holly a piece of cheese or meat was a powerful attraction. More another day.

There is much to like about this Jade. It is jagged in places but I am not sure that is unintentional. I like the use of five senses in the opening but I wonder if the repetition works for others and just not for me. Hush! requires a pause (IMO) and the following verses that start Hush could be varied just a little to create a little more interest. For example: Hush! When the silence wraps Its cool arms around you Pulling you closer Maybe you can hear it The noise that accompanied me Like a stolen cloak Hush now. And maybe the noise will stumble closer The wrathful shrieks Make my hair stand up Like uniform rows of terrified soldiers The woman that made the noise— She walked with me always Hush now little one. I can hear her now still Her violent disappointment Controlling the silences That I so envied Manipulating my sanity Because I knew she was there Phantom of my pain Hush now child and don't cry, Because this woman I could not know As she existed only In the dark recesses of myself Is calling for me And I am dying to listen I struggled to understand to whom the work spoke to and then it struck me that it is self talk. Some what destructive self talk with a brutal critic slashing words around the room like child throwing a tantrum. The last two paragraghs speak of an emotional malstrom where confusion, hurt, betrayal, anger, hatred, and sorrow bang into each other until the reader can't tell where one ends and the other begins. It is very strong in it's theme, use of language and ambitious, but it could be more. I hope I was constructive. Didn't mean to hijack the story to bend it into something you hadn't intended. If I did I am sorry.

Blue am I that no one has responded yet to this work. Purple am I turning while I hold my breath waiting for another to respond.

My muse is like a fire. It often starts with a spark and mulls over slowly in some smoldering mass of thoughts and then ignites into a bright yellow flame. Carefully kindled it can expand into a blaze.

A small but short gem. I wish the words flowed so easily from me. Nice story.

To all of my american friends this is easily one of my favorite artists singing the way God intended him to sing this song. Enjoy the day and the song. http://www.brownielocks.com/americathebeautifulWAVE.html

The man mined gold with conversation He charmed the world and used persuasion To see him smile was never rare What happened to him was it despair? Independence and self esteem Perhaps the dying of a dream Stolen away bit by bit Until in his world he didn’t fit. The words dried up as silence fell And once again he was in its spell Nothing to do but wait and see He asks himself “What is left that’s me?” Pills to manage and console An illness that he can’t control Darkness drawn on misery It took his masculinity. Dawn and time to rise To face a life he does despise Quietly he rose with discontent That final day he fell silent.

Consider it a rental. Selling people in an auction is well, slavery.

Moody Blues: Days of Future Past is the album came out in '67. Song title is "Evening: The Sun Set: Twilight Time " Probably one of the more significant albums of the sixties. Nights in White Satin ruled the jukeboxes in the cafeteria at school. Here is mine:

Are you going to Scarborough fair? Paul Simon lyrics are hard to miss. Nice choice.

I watch in shock and horror as my two year old cat Mr. Sassy urinates on the carpet in front of me. This is the second time in the past week I have witnessed this. After yelling and screaming death threats at him I calm down and go about the business of cleaning up the mess. The small portable carpet cleaner has been getting a work out lately. "What's wrong with him?!" I asked aloud. Some time later I heard him make a sound that was like a cry of pain. It was a long yowl while he looked at me in the hallway that made me worry. I was on my way to work. "What's wrong Sass?" I didn't have time for this shit and out the door I went. The drive to Oakville is just over an hour at highway speeds and I couldn't stop thinking about the dam cat. I was behind on the sales forecast again and this meeting couldn't wait. Why is it that my mind thinks clearer the further I travel from the problem? "He has a Urinary Infection stupid!" I say aloud to myself. "Dam!" The meeting went well in Oakville and 11:30 am I am packing it in and heading back home. I will go by the vet I think to myself and get him some antibiotics. By 12:30 pm I am sitting at St. Francis Animal Clinic beside some lady and her dog (I guess). Brisket she called him and although he was friendly I am sure Sassy would kick his ass. “What can I do for you?” asked the young woman in scrubs. “I have a sick cat with a urinary problem.” I tell her. She informs me that his very life could be in danger and how soon could I bring him in? I hurry home and gather him up. Within minutes we are back in the animal clinic. The next morning I go and collect him. Two hundred and thirteen dollars later I have learned a lot about vets and how they stay in business. I pay, collect my cat and leave. The family pet is just that after all, family. Talk to you later

First of all let me welcome you to the pen. I found this application (or protest) rather interesting to say the least. Strange are the works found here at the pen and would include this one among them. It reminds me of an old song titles "Signs". It too was a protestation of a kind. "Signs" as recorded by Tesla And the sign says "No long hair freaky people need not apply" So I put my hair under my hat and I went in to ask him why He said you look like a fine outstanding young man I think you'll do So I took off my hat I said "Imagine that Huh Me working for you" CHORUS: Signs Signs Everywhere there's signs Blocking up the scenery Breaking up my mind Do this Don't do that Can't you read the sign And the sign says "Anybody caught trespassing will be shot on sigh" So I jumped the fence and I yelled at the house What gives you the right To put up a fence And keep me out Or to keep Mother Nature in If God was here He'd tell it to your face Man You're some kind of sinner CHORUS: Oh Say now mister Can't you read You got to have a shirt and tie to get a seat You can't watch No You can't eat You ain't supposed to be here And the sign says "You gotto have a membership card just to get inside" Huh And the sign says "Everybody welcome Come in Kneel down and pray" But then they passed around a plate at the end of it all And I didn't have a penny to pay So I got me a pen and paper And I made up my own little sign I said Thank you Lord for thinking about me I'm alive and doing fine You are probably too young to remember it but it seems to be what was old is new again when it comes to your application/protest.

Welcome back Kendricke, Always a good read but especially so this time. There is a certain economy of words to this work but it succeeds in setting the mood and framing a picture. Questions? Plenty of those around. Answers? Left for the reader to surmise. This part speaks volumes.

Basically you are proposing Sophie's choice. A movie where faced with losing both of her children, Sophie must choose between saving her son or saving her daughter. She chooses her son and lives the rest of her life with the knowledge that she could have saved her daughter's life but didn't. There was no right or wrong choice for Sophie. SHe could only save one but she did not cause the death of the other. My comment after that movie was that she had the courage to live with that I doubt I could have. My answer to the question as framed is I would choose my child. There are many reasons but the only one that would matter would be "what would my spouse want?" I have not consulted her on this but having lived with her for over 24 years she would not survive the choice. She would die either way. My life would also be forfeit as my would be my soul for if it was in my power I would track the person down and kill them.

It certainly seems so Arwen. Victim or victimized I am not sure that my personal belief will allow me to accept it as easily as that. Along time ago I would have agreed but something changed somewhere between ten and thirteen years of age. I started to slowly take responsibility to what was happening to me. My choices and my decisions shaped their own consequences. My love was freely given (and freely spurned) and sometimes I got hurt, but not always. Sometimes I just had fun (or the time of my life). If you are taking chances with your eyes closed you could be a victim but not if they are open. Innocent people do get hurt and certainly people can be randomly cruel (and some pure evil). I also realized that these were beyond my power to control so I let someone else worry about those things. Some hard and difficult things will cross our path and life can be so hard. I trust that God will giveme the grace to handle these times and the courage to go on.

The true measure of a man can't be tolded by a measuring tape or an accountant but by the depth of the love that they inspire. I saw something very real is this story and enjoyed it very much. Having worked in a hospital for several years this struck me as so true, the smell of disinfectant never quite kills the smell for me. It's always there under that mask the smell of illness, injury and death. The power of love personified in the person of a young lady who sees things clearly and uncomplicated. Quite possibly the most visual and moving paragraph I have ever seen you write. If it was in my power I would nominate this piece to The Pen is Mightier's hall of fame.

For some strange reason God has given me something of a special ability. I am sure it belongs to someone else but while I can smell things at great distances I'm sure there is a basset hound that couldn't smell a rabbit standing right beside him. Working around the yard is my chance to reconnect with things long forgotten. The smells of fresh blossoms triggered a memory of my childhood. I found myself thinking back in the early sixties when it was just me and my sister. Mom and Dad would called us their first family later. It would be five more years before my two younger brothers would join us. The world was smaller then. Most households still had a 60 watt service and some even less (40 watts). Our TV was still a black and white Zenith and Dad drove an old green Ford. With only three channels two clear and a third requiring a small child to hold the rabbit ears to be veiwable. Our backyard had peach trees and they flowered early. The smell of their blossoms had brought back the memory. It seems that in those days we had to be creative in how to occupy our time. When the opportunity to get together with cousins my own age came around we cheered. The aftermath of a day at the beach or a day of visitation always ended the same way. "Do we have to go already?!" we would moan in unison. My dad had his own way of handling us on these occasions. "Yes, say goodbye and get in the car." he'd say flatly. The long drive home would be a quiet one and the view into the backseat would have two pouty kids seating with their arms crossed. My father would always start the conversation about three stoplights from home. "So did you enjoy yourselves?" Almost as a groan we would reply "Yes Dad." "You had fun?" he would continue and we would respond again "Yes Dad." This would continue for sometime and we would relunctantly nod and thank them both for taking us. Sometimes we would be rewarded with a treat at the Red Barn or an ice cream. By the time we arrived home our sullen faces had always brightened. Seems like that had always been my father's job. Reminding us of the good times we had. Keeping our sadness in perspective. My dad has been gone for many years now and we still miss him badly. They say that time heals all wounds, hard to argue that one but unless you're a Salamander you can't grow a new limb or have your father back. So unfortunately that wound still festers. I suppose that his words "Did we have fun?" would still be answered "Yes Dad." In my head I still hear his voice, his cadence, his own pauses. To this day he is still teaching me lessons long forgotten. It's early and June blossoms make my eyes water or maybe it's the pollen.

Arwen! It has been too long. Such a sad poem you wrote. Things do grow old and die but in their time. It is better to enjoy the shade of that tree than lament it's eventual demise. There is a beginning and an end to all things. That truth holds true in your poem.

Regel casts a healing spell in hopes that his fellow pennites are feeling better soon in mind and body. P.S. Salinye try chicken soup!

Best wishes! Hope eighteen feels as good as I remember.

The things that last (at least in our memories) are the important events that dot our life's travels like sign posts. I love the places you grew up. People that I can identify with, people that have been displaced, people with a strong sense of family. Proud people, that believe in their traditions and carry them into future generations by story telling. I can only echo purple_shadows post. Wonderful story and an excellent first post.

Powerful emotions and very well expressed. Half way through this I found a hook that grabbed me and wouldn't let me go. Self examination perhaps?

Very interesting poem. It smells of youth. The hope, the courage, the decision to stand (flaws and all) to await an answer. I enjoyed it alot.