Clouds cover the sun so bright
Shutting out the rays of its might
Bringing rain for the world below
When the time is right it might even snow
And below turmoil reigns supreme
Battling the evils of the storm so mean
Too little avail people continue in struggle
No ground does not carry a puddle
In this time so hopeless and dreary
Tomorrow the sun will wake up and shine.
Durbar asked, “So what do you think? Do you think I should try to compete? I don’t know what to do.”
Znak paused for a moment, took a long drink, and looked deep into Durbar’s eyes, studying them, and began, “Lad, I’m not going to be the one to make that decision. It is for you and only you to make.”
Durbar wasn’t satisfied. “What do you think my father would say?”
“You are not a boy any longer, and it is time for you to make your own way. It’s not going to be easy, but you are going to have to do it soon enough. You want to know what I think? I think you already made up your mind because you came here. If you didn’t want to compete, you wouldn’t have come all the way here before the festival.” Both men were quiet for a moment. The wisdom of Znak’s words was undeniable. It was true that, although in his mind, Durbar was uneasy about meeting with the prince and competing, his heart led him there and would probably lead him to Rothan. Durbar looked down into his drink. Znak stared at the young man, studying his reaction.
“You’re right, Znak. I can’t go back to the cabin. I don’t want to be there alone anymore. I need to do something else,” Durbar explained plainly, as if trying to convince himself more than Znak. “It’s not the same without Father,” he said as his eyes began to mist.
A poem I wrote a very long time ago, in high school
Flying,
through the dark black sky.
Soaring,
over the tiny world below.
Gliding ,
across huge, crushing, currents.
Sailing,
with the endless wind.
Darting,
past great flashes of lightning.
Skimming,
the thin atmosphere.
Floating,
on the tranquil white clouds.
Living,
everyday, one at a time.
Changing,
with the unpredictable weather.
It will take you where you want to go.
Nearby, an ancient creature sniffed the air and caught scent of the herd. The beast growled low and looked about for signs of the animals but did not find them. Instead, he sniffed again and turned to the direction of the unsuspecting bucks. He squinted his eyes and sniffed some more, confident he had found the source of the smell. He slobbered and groaned thinking about how delicious and tasty the bucks would be. His eyes focused as his hand gripped a rudimentary club in his giant fist, tightly.
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The cold mountain air bit at the faces of two men as they crept silently toward a young, unsuspecting buck nibbling on some roots. Without any sound, they inched their way closer to the animal. Durbar, a young man of fifteen, watched his father, Adar, very carefully, and mimicked his movements; ever striving to be the great woodsman his father was.
The large man stopped suddenly and so did his son. He slowly reached for his giant long bow and gently pulled out an arrow from the quiver on his back. The woodsman quickly inspected the arrow to ensure there was no damage to the fletching, notched it and stood up slowly and carefully. His black cloak concealed him in the dark, dense forest. The hunter drew back the string of his mighty bow until it touched his bearded cheek. Holding absolutely steady, he loosed the arrow. The missile twisted slightly as it sailed through the still air, flying past massive trees until finding the unsuspecting buck. The arrow struck the animal’s side, piercing his heart. Stunned and now struggling to cling to life, the buck tried to stumble away, but did not get far.
I cannot believe I have a 17 year old!!!
With each passing year
You bring me more cheer
As you grow more intelligent
And even more elegant
Becoming a beautiful woman
Yet growing in wisdom
I can hardly be prouder
Of you my loving daughter
So today we celebrate you
We’ll blow out a candle or two
But I love you every day
Even as you go on your way
Take on that crazy world!
You’ll always be Daddy’s girl
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The Sureshot Series:
There is little more amazing than birth.
Motherhood is a special hob from God.
A gift and a burden with increased girth.
Today I want to take time to applaud.
Four times did you endure and sacrifice.
Carrying with care such precious cargo.
So important not everyone sufficed.
A process begun many years ago.
Each time carried them from start to finish.
You kept them free from injury and harm.
A woman so divine and unselfish.
The mother of our children full of charm.
Now we are blessed with four precious children.
I count you the greatest among women.
A joke that turned into a poetry challenge when a student said my good friend is her favorite teacher
Good morning student
I casually greet
I’m so glad you’re here
I’m so glad to meet
You’ll love this class
I’m sure at the end of it
You’ll learn great many things
And I’ll be your favorite
Wait, what’s that you say?
That can’t possibly occur?
You already have a favorite
You say it’s Pullinger?
Why oh why
Do you insist
That Pullinger
Is your favorite?
Why do you so enjoy
Inflicting pain on me?
What have I done to you
That you feel so free?
Why oh why
Do you insist
That Pullinger
Is your favorite?
You pierce my joyful spirit
And cause it to bleed
Is this some game to you?
Something you need?
Why oh why
Do you insist
That Pullinger
Is your favorite?
Have I not entertained?
Have I not educated?
Was it all for not?
Was all my effort wasted?
Why oh why
Do you insist
That Pullinger
Is your favorite?
Do you not see the pain
Etched deeply on my face?
I have no clear idea
How much I can take
Why oh why
Do you insist
That Pullinger
Is your favorite?
I’m truly unsure
How I can continue
Now that I know the truth
What am I to do?
Why or why
Do you insist
That Pullinger
Is your favorite?
