The Portfolio

Where's the Baby?

2011-11-02T12:40:00.000-05:00

My newest short story. If you enjoy cliff-hangers you will like this one. I have entered the Hub Patron of the arts contest and this is my first entry for the writing contest. All the photos and writing are done by me. I hope you enjoy "Where's the Baby?"

Where's the Baby?

Something in the Creek

2011-10-12T15:09:00.000-05:00

Something in the Creek

There’s something in the creek

That no one knows

It’s not around in daylight

When everyone goes

***

There’s something in the creek

I know it’s there

I’ve been out by moonlight

So every one beware

***

There’s something in the creek

It’s evil oh yes

Wanting souls there with it

It feeds on their distress

***

There’s something in the creek

Heed what I say

Don’t go there past sundown

Will be you final day

Grizzly Long Hair Feather Extensions

2011-09-03T20:32:00.000-05:00

Grizzly Long Hair Feather Extensions

This is the hottest new rage to hit hair design. You can buy hair feather extension kits and do your own hair like I plan to do - or you can go to a salon and have hair feather extensions put in for you. You can also buy the feathers singly or in lots. Check out my article for some great hair feather extension pictures and ideas.

Remembering Towns lost

2011-08-31T09:54:00.002-05:00

When Irene hit my area two towns close to my heart were devastated. The following poem is older and is are my tribute to the area I call home.

Schoharie County

So unclaimed the county with the historic and spectacular in surrounding valley. Is a shame when one knows what wealth for the body and soul this niche in New York’s center has to lay before one’s feet. With miles of blowing corn fields that delight the summer eye and snowflake covered evergreens to warm the winter heart. In spring the rejuvenated shire sparkles with nature’s onset into splendor and never one has witnessed such ostentation when fall’s foliage takes the stage.

And the history that the province keep honored and protected holds a score to ensure enthrallment zest and edify. With a bevy of museum archives to explore arboretum inspiring and immeasurable impressions along the road. Grand combats once fought and won there and the Old Stone Fort reenactment drama enchanting a sight. Even off beaten path in hinterlands and nooks lie plaquards filled with chronicled fare to sharpen one’s fascination.

If a lark through shops of antiquity is your delight the canton is peppered with shops of antiques treasured relics obsolete finds and more. From time worm collections you can not live without to uncovered trinkets to become new heirlooms. You can loose your self in the charm and greatness in their numbers. Some touted in publications to find your way others found quite by chance while you journey along country road.

However my musings may intrigue the county its self speaks for its glory with its splendor. From the moment you cross the border into Schoharie County you can hear it calling to you welcoming you into her euphoric borderland. There is a cordiality in the air that starts out warm then grow to a sense of impressive exhilaration received. And before you know it you are taken into the fold and your experience will be that like you have never known before.

For Joe

2011-08-07T15:05:00.000-05:00

For Joe

Never before had anyone seen my soul

No one was ever allowed the key

Hidden it remained by even myself

Then you came into my life

Never before had anyone known my heart

No one was ever deemed worthy

Lonely it remained in search of love

Then you came into my life

Never before had anyone wanted my secrets

No one was ever given a clue

Veiled they remained for me only

Then you came into my life

Never before had anyone showed me honor

No one was ever strong enough

Waylaid it remained in search of victor

Then you came into my life

Never before had I known true love’s meaning

No one was ever worth the quest

Lost it remained to me for so long

Then you came into my life

Never before had I loved like I love you

No one was ever worth this gift

Saved it remained just waiting for you

Then you came into my life

Never again will I want for another

No one can ever compare to you

Cherished you remain and always will

Since you came into my life

Teen fucked

2011-08-02T15:30:00.000-05:00

Teen fucked

Gardening Analogies: Life Lessons from the Garden

2011-07-25T14:44:00.000-05:00

The Sweet Pea Massacre

I kind of knew that I shouldn't have pruned them so harshly. I'd been looking at them closely now for two weeks - wondering why they were rioting over the side of their bathtub container, yet still they had no blossoms on their massive tendrils. I thought that I had planted duds, that I wasn't going to get any flowers, or worse yet,that I would have this tangled mess of sweet pea vines just taking up room in my precious soil. READ THE REST HERE:

Gardening Analogies: Life Lessons from the Garden

Luigi and Joe

2011-07-09T18:53:00.000-05:00

Luigi and Joe

You could say that fifteen year old Joe Riley was less than thrilled to be taking the subway to the Bronx to visit his grandfather in the nursing home, but his mother insisted he go, seeing it would probably be the last time he would see him alive. It was a morbid thought that Joe wasn't very crazy about. He wasn’t all that fond of his grandfather anyway. The old man had been hard on his grandson. Being his only male role model, he took it a little too seriously and ended up driving Joe away from him. Now, Joe was just waiting for him to die and get it over with so he could get on with his life.

He trudged up the steps of Saint Agnes Home For The Aged like he was a condemned man. He politely held the door open for two nuns before he entered what he referred to as “The Final Curtain Call“. When he got in to the ancient elevator, he pressed the button and said a prayer he would make it to the third floor. The elevator shimmied all the way up. When it reached the third floor, it stopped with a thud. "What a piece of crap!", Joe commented as he exited. As an elderly woman was entering in, Joe shouted, "God be with you, Lady", as the doors screeched closed. Joe shook his head and started toward his grandfather's room.

When Joe walked into the room, a doctor was just pulling a sheet over the old man's face. He looked up at Joe.

"I'm sorry, Son. Are you a relative?".

Joe looked at his dead grandfather's covered body. "Not anymore", he said, with no emotion. "I was his grandson."

"Well", the doctor said, laying his hand on Joe's shoulder, "He's in a better place now."

"I know I am" , Joe said, shaking his head.

He looked at the old man sitting by the window.

"Should he be in here with a dead body and everything?"

"No.", the doctor said, "but we're short handed today. A nurse will be by to get him soon. I'll give you a few minutes with your grandfather."

The doctor left Joe with his dead grandfather and the old man by the window.

Joe slowly peeled the sheet back from his grandfather's face. "Hey.", he said. "Just wanted to make sure you were really gone. I guess I can breathe now. You were one tough, hard fisted, son of a bitch, Pop. You might not have left any scars on my body, but I sure have plenty of ‘em on the inside. Kind of funny, you dyin’ in a Catholic home, ‘cause I’m bettin’ you're on the express train to Hell right now." He wiped his nose with his t-shirt. "You didn't have to be like you were, ya know, ya old fart? I'd of listened to ya if ya were nicer, probably even more, but it's too late now, isn't it? Now you're gone. Oh, and something else. Thanks for tryin‘, even if you didn't know what you were doin."

Joe covered his grandfather back up and turned to walk out the door, but the old man by the window caught his eye.

"Geeze, Mister. You shouldn't be sittin’ in here with a dead body layin’ around."

He walked over to the man’s wheelchair and grabbed ahold of it.

"Come on. I'll get ya out of here until they clean up the joint."

When he turned him around, he could see that the old man had been crying.

"Aww, geeze. Are you okay Mister?", Joe asked, hoping he was because he wouldn't know what to do if he wasn't.

The old man looked up at Joe and smiled. "

I'm just fine", he said in a thick Italian accent. "Excuse my presence here, but I couldn't leave. You're a good boy telling your grandfather thank you. You didn't have to, but you did. You show good character. Good heart."

Joe smiled at the old man. "Really. It was nothing. He's gone now."

The old man said, "But you do it. That's what is important."

"Thanks Mister. You're ok.", Joe humbly said.

"You're ok, too, and my name is Luigi. Luigi Zanello.", the old man stated.

"Well. Pleased to meet you, Luigi Zanello. My name is Joe Riley. Now, let's get you out of here. This place gives me the creeps."

Joe pushed Luigi's chair out into the hallway. He looked around for some place to settle him in. There was a sitting room across the hall, so he brought him in there. He parked his wheelchair and sat down next to the old man.

"You should be alright here until they take care of my grandfather, Luigi.", he told him "Do you need a nurse or anything?"

Luigi hissed, "Those nurses are too busy for old Luigi. I'll just sit here like an old Frigidator."

Joe held in a laugh at Luigi's mangling of the word “Frigidaire“. He looked at the clock on the wall. "Tell ya what, Luigi. I'll sit here with ya for a little while. We wouldn't want anybody puttin’ ya out on the curb now, would we?"

Joe looked at the old man. His face was filled with wrinkles and deep lines. His eyes looked so old that the color had actually faded away to a dull gray. He couldn't help but notice Luigi's ears were very big. Joe wondered if they had always been that way. Then he realized the man still had a full head of hair and it was thick. He tried to see if it was a wig without looking conspicuous. It sure looked real to him. The old man was thin, but not a sick looking kind of thin. In fact, for an old man, Luigi looked pretty darn healthy.

"Luigi? If you don't mind me askin. How old are you?"

Luigi smiled and folded his big hands. "I'm ninety three years old", he said proudly, "and I still have my own teeth." He laughed so Joe could see that, in fact, he did still have his teeth.

"Good for you, Luigi. Probably due to good livin’, right?" Luigi hissed again, "You really want to know the secret, Joe?" He waved for him to come closer. "Every day of my life, I have drank a nice glass of dandelion wine. My own recipe. Homemade, though. No other stuff."

He gave Joe a wink. "I’ll give you the recipe. It’s in my dresser in my room. Easy to make. Much easier to drink."

He laughed, slapping his leg and shaking his head. "How old are you, Joe?"

"Fifteen."

"That's old enough. I was ten when I started making my wine. Kind of tricky to find enough dandelions in the city, but you can do it."

Joe thought about making his own wine from weeds. Not only would he not live it down once his friends got wind of it, but his mother would also have a conniption. Still, he thought it might be a kick trying it just once, just to see what it tasted like.

"So, Luigi. What other secrets do ya have for livin’ a longer life?"

"Tomatoes."

"Tomatoes?"

"Tomatoes. Eat a lot of tomatoes. Cook them, eat them off the vine or in sauce, but eat tomatoes. When I came to this country, I was poor, but I could grow tomatoes. We ate those tomatoes every day. I was always a healthy man."

"Ok I'll eat more tomatoes.", Joe said.

"Good boy, Joe. You'll live to one hundred. You watch and see."

Joe looked at Luigi's left hand. He didn't see a wedding ring. He wondered if he had lost his wife or if he ever even had one. "So, Luigi. Were you ever married?", Joe asked.

"Oh!", Luigi said. A different kind of smile came to his face.

"Four wives I had." He held up four fingers. "A wife for each quarter of my life."

Joe smiled. "So. You were a player, you sly old dog."

"Oh no, Joe. Never played. Every time was a purpose. Wife one was my true love. We were fourteen, a year younger than you. We married in Palermo, Italy. She gave me two sons, Michael and Anthony. We were very happy, but poor. So, we came to America, the land of opportunity. Then, Angelina got sick and we had no money for a doctor. We lost her when she was just twenty."

"Oh geeze, Luigi. I'm sorry I brought it up.", Joe said apologetically.

"No. No. Her memory is a good one. She left me my sons. Wife number two was for the boys. They were young and needed a mother. She was a good woman, good mother, and nice to me, too, but she was mugged in an ally for two dollars. She never made it out alive. Wife three was a good worker, but her heart was not too tough. It gave out and she died right after the boys moved out and got married. Wife number four made me less lonely for a long time. We were friends and that was important. I was a very lucky man in love, Joe. It might not sound like it, but I was."

Joe thought about everything Luigi had told him. He was growing to like the old man. He was interesting, nice, and filled with all kinds of information. He found himself wishing Luigi had been his grandfather. If he had been, maybe his life would have been a lot different.

"Luigi. You want something to drink?"

"I'd love a beer", the old man said with a smile, "but I'll settle for a Pepsi."

Joe remembered a soda machine on the ground floor. He patted Luigi's back. "I'll be right back. You gonna be here?"

Luigi hissed, "Until midnight, I'll be here."

Joe laughed and left the old man to get the sodas

As Joe rode the rickety elevator down to the first floor, he thought about Luigi's life. He must have seen it all in his ninety three years. He thought he had been through it all in his fifteen. He had so many questions for the old man. After all, he seemed very willing to answer them. He quickly got two Pepsis and got back into the scare ride of an elevator. His thoughts were so consuming that he didn't even notice the wobbling or violent stop. Joe was far too eager to get back to his conversation with Luigi.

When Joe got back to the sitting room, Luigi was checking out one of the nurses who was standing out in the hallway. Joe took a second look at the nurse.

"Luigi you're not thinking about wife number five, are ya?"

The old man laughed out loud. "She's too old for Luigi", he said with a wink.

"I got ya", Joe said, handing him his bottle of soda. He was amazed when the old man simply opened the bottle and took a good chug from it.

"That's good.", Luigi said. "All they give us here is juice. At my age, I should get what I want. You know what I mean, Joe?"

Joe took a chug of his soda ."I couldn't agree with you more Luigi."

Joe sat across from Luigi so they were face to face.

"So Luigi, what did you do for a living before you were put in here?"

"I was a farmer, Joe."

Joe looked shocked "A farmer in the city?"

Luigi smiled with a far away look in his eye. "Oh yes, Joe. We had a house in Little Italy, they called it back then. I turned the back yard into a big, vegetable garden. A friend built me a cart to sell my tomatoes, lettuce, and zucchini. I did a pretty good business."

"What did you do in the winter?", Joe asked.

"I sold rabbits.", Luigi said proudly.

"Rabbits? What for?"

"For eating. They were as popular as beef back then. Still are in some places, I hear. You haven't tasted anything till you tasted rabbit stew, Joe." Luigi smacked his lips, remembering the delicious meal.

"I think I'll stick to chicken there, Luigi." Joe said, imagining that same meal.

"Rabbits were cheap, Joe. We didn't have a lot of money and those furry little things sure did mate.", he laughed. We could sell a lot of them. Cheap, too. People always had meat to put on the table. You get a taste for something when it's the only thing you have, Joe." "Yea I guess you would Luigi."

Joe thought about how hard it must have been for a poor Italian man in the city. He probably didn't speak much English. His neighborhood was most likely his world. Since Luigi could provide them with food, he must have been pretty popular, not to mention one of the richest men on the block.

"So, Luigi. What happened to your sons?"

"Ah. Michael was my oldest. He went into the army after school. He made it to be Major. Got all kinds of medals, too, but he was killed in something, not really a war, in Korea. I never understood, but they said he was a hero. I still have his Purple Heart. Antony was a little younger. He was his mama's boy. She taught him to cook and bake bread. He opened his very own bakery in the upper Eastside. His sons still run it today. Oh, they were good boys, my sons. A father shouldn't have to bury his sons. He should die first."

Luigi's smile left his face. His memories were turning sad. Joe didn't mean to bring up painful memories. He tried to think of something to change the subject.

"What about school, Luigi?" Joe quickly blurted out. "Did you go to school in Palermo?" Luigi leaned forward in his wheelchair. "Joe. That was my one regret. I only went to school to the fourth grade. If I had gotten a better education, who knows what I could have been. You listen to me, Joe. Stay in school and go to collage." The old man pounded his fists on the arms of his chair.

"You don't want to be an old man like me wondering “what if”, every day he has left. It’s no way to live. Believe me. I know."

He smiled at Joe. "I'm not trying to tell you like your grandfather, Joe. I just don't want you to make the same mistake I did. I didn't think I needed school. I was wrong. I did, and so do you." He sat back in his chair and drank his bottle of soda.

Joe sat there thinking about everything Luigi had told him. He had learned so much from this old man in just one chance visit on an emotional afternoon. Why couldn't his grandfather have been like Luigi? Why couldn't they have just sat and talked? Maybe they were just too close. Maybe his grandfather just hadn't been through everything Luigi had. For what ever reason, Joe was glad he took the time to help this old man out of his grandfather's room. The lessons he taught him were more than enough payment for the gesture, and even though the generation gap was vast between them, Joe had made a valuable friend that day and he was lucky enough to realize it.

Joe's mother walked into the sitting room. She was visibly upset by the death of her father. Joe stood up and gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. He took her hand and led her to the old man. "Ma. This is Luigi Zanello. Luigi. This is my mother, Louise." As they shook hands, a big smile came to Luigi's face. In all the hours they had been talking, Joe had never told Luigi his mother's name. In Italian, it was the feminine form of his name. Louise looked at her son. "We have some things to do now, Joe", she said quietly. "Alright Mom" Joe answered her. He turned to Luigi and said, "Hey, Luigi. How about I come visit on Saturday?"

"I'll be here, Joe. Probably still sitting in this room."

The two laughed and said good bye.

Joe's mother put her arm around him. "That was really nice, Joe.", she said, as they walked down the hall. Joe turned his head toward the sitting room. "Yeah, Ma. It really was."

First of many to come

2011-07-08T11:30:00.001-05:00

The Green Cabinet

Haley and Tim had lived in their two hundred year old farm house for seven years. Haley had finally talked Tim into getting rid of that old metal cabinet in the pantry. It was the only thing in the house that just didn’t fit in. It was white and the previous owners had allowed their children to color all over it. The inside was rusty and Haley hated to keep anything of real value inside. She talked Tim into taking it out to his workshop where it could be put to some good use. Haley had plans to purchase a nice antique cabinet to replace it. Some thing a little woodier that would fit in with the rustic décor of the old house.

It took Tim an hour to move the large thing. Haley stayed far out of his way. As long as he got it out of the house she didn’t care how he did it. Once it was outside she brought her broom and dust pan right into the pantry to sweep up where the cabinet had sat for who knows how many years. She went right to her sweeping not even looking at the wall that had been covered up by the white monstrosity. Once the floor was cleaned up Haley stood back to take a look at the space she would have to fill. That was when she saw it right there on the wall was a green door no bigger than a medicine chest. Its hinges were very old and quite ornate for a farm house. The latch was brass all tarnished from years of neglect and it was locked with a very small padlock.

Haley softly laid her hand on the green door. They had lived there for seven years and never knew it was there. The couple they bought the house from never mentioned it when they showed them the house and they had been very thorough. They must not have known it was their Haley gathered. She lifted the small lock and looked at it. It obviously hadn’t been opened in quite a long time. She wondered what ever happened to the key. She had never come across it in the years they had lived there.

Her mind raced with the possibilities of what could be inside. Maybe some antique apothecaries or maybe even some hidden away jewelry long forgotten. What ever was inside the owner felt the need to lock it away so to them it held some sort of value. By the look of the style of the door and the hardware it looked original to the house. Haley wondered if it could have been hidden away there since the original owners locked it up. But how could it stay so preserved all of those years she wondered. The metal cabinet surly wasn’t that old. It was a true mystery unearthed in the wall of her pantry. Haley was intoxicated by its possibilities. When Tim walked into the pantry she jumped.

“Whoa where were you?” he asked looking at his startled wife. “Hundreds of years ago” she answered as she pointed to the green door. “Look at this.” Tim looked at the door in amazement. “No way, I wonder how long that’s been there.” “A long time I’d say. Look at the hardware and the lock.” He examined the cabinet much the same way Haley had. “Cool” he said “I wonder where the key is.” He played with the lock. “Long

gone I’m sure. Be careful don’t break it.” “Well then how are we going to open it?” Haley thought for a minute. “I suppose we could pick it.” “Come on Haley this thing is ancient. It’s probably all rusted inside. It won’t open the conventional way.” “Well we’re going to try any way.”

Haley went to the kitchen and got a small skewer. She brought it back to the pantry. She carefully inserted it into the lock and tried to move it around but nothing happened. Tim looked at his watch “Well Houdini you’re on your own. I have to go to work.” He gave Haley a kiss “I’ll see you tonight.” “Ok” Haley said still focused on the lock on the door. She wanted that lock open and without breaking it. Before Time was even out of the driveway Haley was in the bedroom gathering up some tools to crack that lock. She grabbed her nail polish remover, a safety pin, a hat pin out of her grandmother’s pin stand and a bunch of tissues. She picked up a small glass bowel from the kitchen as she walked through and brought it all into the pantry.

Haley put some of the nail polish remover in the glass bowel then carefully held it up to the lock and set it into the liquid. It smelled horrible and she laughed when she thought what Tim would think if he could see her now. She didn’t know why but she just knew she was on the right track. She didn’t let the lock soak for too long she didn’t want it to fall apart into the bowel. She patted it dry with some of the tissues and tried to open it with the safety pin. Some of the rust from inside fell out but it didn’t open. So she put down the safety pin and tried the hat pin. It was just a little bit thinner and slid inside just a little farther. She guided it around being careful not to be rough and the lock sprang open. “Wow” she said aloud “It really worked!” She put her high-tech tools aside and got ready to look inside the green cabinet.

Haley took the lock off of the latch and held it in her hand. She slowly opened the latch and pulled the green door open. A musty smell came from inside but when the light from the room reviled what was there the odor was the last thing Haley noticed. There were three shelves inside of the cabinet. On the first there was an old tarnished child’s silver spoon, a hand carved cow all worn from being held and a lock of hair pressed between a folded piece of paper. On the bottom shelf was a photograph of a couple on their wedding day. The woman was quite beautiful and the man very handsome. Next to it laid a beautiful hair comb the same one worn by the woman in the photo and there was a gold locket. Inside were two pictures of the couple taken some years later it looked like.

Haley put the locket back and placed the lock beside it. On the middle shelf was a stack of letters tied together with a faded ribbon. They looked very old and Haley knew enough about antique papers not to touch them with her bare hands. The oils in her skin would decay the paper as it is very fragile due to its age. Haley went to find a pair of cotton gloves she had so she could take a look at them. Her anticipation surprised her. She tried to tell herself that they were probably just some old recipes carried down from generation to generation. But she had a feeling they were something much more. She put on her gloves carefully removed the letters from the cabinet and brought them to the dining room table.

Haley untied the ribbon and counted the letters there were over a dozen of them. Some of them were just too yellow and fallen apart to read. But there were some that were still in pretty good shape. They weren’t in envelopes just neatly folded as they were when they were received. Haley carefully opened the first one in good condition and read it;

March 2, 1865

My dearest Lizbeth,

I have precious little time to write as the fighting is merciless. However I do not want you to worry with such things my love. Oh how I wish I were there at Graystone with you and our precious little William. My Captain assures me the war will be over soon and I will be able to return to you and our beautiful farm. Just the thought of you strolling through the meadow picking wildflowers has gotten me through many a lonely night here in the south. When I sleep I am with you again your raven hair flowing in the mountain breeze. You are wearing that yellow dress you made just after William was born. You look so lovely in that dress. Please wear it for me when I return. What a wonderful sight that would be to witness you in your yellow dress carrying William down the long path to meet me. I shall carry that thought with me until we are together again my love.

Ever faithful,

Edmond

Haley sighed thinking about how it must have been for a young man to be away from his family with only letters to keep them in contact. A chill went down her spine as she remembered the wedding photo. They looked so in love Edmond and Lizbeth. She folded the letter and opened the next one;

March 4, 1865

My beloved Edmond,

I have just put William down to sleep. He looks more and more like you each passing day. Oh how I wish you were here with us to see him grow. Your brother has been very helpful but he is no substitute for you my husband. I long to sleep by your side to feel your strong arms around me. I know a lady shouldn’t speak of such things but I miss you so. I wore that yellow dress you favor the other day. It reminded me of you. It was a bit fancy for just going to town but I did not care. I felt like you were by my side when I wore it.

I pray this awful war will be over soon and you will come home to me and William. The army should not expect a husband and father of a babe to be in such danger. Is pure torture it is. Don’t they know you are needed at home? But I don’t want you to worry about that my love. I want you to take care of your self so you may come home to us safe and sound.

With all of my never ending love,

Lizbeth

Haley put her hand to her heart. She could just imagine how Lizbeth felt. Being a farmers wife in 1865 had to be rough enough then put him being in the middle of the Civil War on top of it. Lizbeth must have been one very strong woman. Haley wasn’t sure if she could be that strong if she had to be. She smiled when she thought about the two of them both mentioning the yellow dress though. She opened the next letter;

March 10, 1865

My Lovely Lizbeth,

So much loss so much despair. Your beautiful memory and spirit is the only thing carrying me through this wretched war. My images of you are the only ray of sunshine in this entire mess. If I didn’t know you were at home waiting for me I simply could not go on any longer. You are my rock my dear I hope you know that. And I do not want you to allow me to forget it when I get back to you. A proud man has no place in this world Lizbeth. I have seen that out here. A man has to know his strengths and you are mine my love.

Forever yours,

Edmond

March 12, 1865

My beloved Edmond,

It has rained for three full days Edmond. Some of the neighbors’ fields are flooded over. We are lucky though being up on the hills as our fields are fine and will be ready for planting right on time. So you bring your self home to see the corm and wheat waving in the breeze my love. They say the war looks to be coming to an end.

I’ve bought some new yard goods to make a new dress for your return. I’ll not ware it until you come walking up that long path to us Edmond. It will be a dress just for you. A bit frivolous yes but you are worth it. And your return will be a grand celebration worth frivolity at the very least. Oh my Edmond when you come home I will celebrate you every day for the rest of your life.

Your dearest Lizbeth

March 16, 1865

My treasured Lizbeth,

I got your letter today the one about you wearing that yellow dress. Just the thought of you wearing it for shopping makes me smile. I shall read your letter over and over as smiles are hard to come by these days. Jonesy has joined our ranks today. While it is nice to see someone from home it saddens me that such a young boy of fourteen must come here to fight this miserable war. He tells me he saw you and William before he left. He says my boy is growing by leaps and bounds and I should be proud. That I am Lizbeth yet I wish I were there to see him grow. It feels years since I’ve seen the two of you. Just eight months and I am starting to forget what he looks like. But not you my love you come to me every night in my dreams. Where I am clean again and you are just as beautiful as the wretched day I had to leave you. Keep the faith Lizbeth I’ll be coming home to you soon.

Ever yours,

Edmond

March 17, 1865

Dearest Edmond,

I visited Mrs. Jones today my love. She is beside her self having sent her young Jonesy off to fight. He tried to look proud the day he left but I could see he was frightened. They should never taken one so young especially since he is all that his mother has left now. If he should cross your path my love please watch over him for his mother’s sake a mother worries so.

We are told that General Lee is faltering and is ready to surrender. Oh I pray this news is true this horrid war has gone on far too long and far too many lives have been lost. The cause is true but at what cost my love? They are starting to refer to this war as a civil war. There is nothing civil about it, it is barbaric is what it is. We will all be better off when it is all over. So many blacks are migrating up north Edmond. I can not imagine there are many left to fight for in the south any more.

Well take care my love you are in my every thought and dream. I tell William of you every eve before he goes to sleep. We are both eagerly awaiting your return.

Eternally yours,

Lizbeth

March 20, 1865

My precious Lizbeth,

The southern troops seem to fight as though they are already defeated. It is hardly a war anymore as we don’t have the heart to fight men who can not or will not fight back. I feel the end is very near. Every day we see more and more blacks walking their way up north. They have nothing to keep them going except the freedom given to them by their owners who have already given up the fight themselves. It dose the heart good though to know they are free people now. by the look of determination in their eyes I believe they will make it Lizbeth. This gives me reason why I have been fighting this wretched war.

Jonesy has been lifting my spirits with stories from home. He tells me our farm looks well as do you and William. This gladdens me though I can not be there with you. I feel that soon I will be. Once I am my love I do not plan on ever leaving you again. This I solemnly vow to you. You will never have to be alone again my love.

Faithfully yours,

Edmond

There were only three more letters two of which were readable. Haley’s mind was back in 1865. She saw the house as it was as Lizbeth sat to write to Edmond as little William slept by her side. She opened the first of the last two letters;

April 5, 1865

My Darling Edmond,

Your brother is readying the fields to plant as I write. He has been a God send in your absence but no substitute I’m afraid. There are some things a brother in law simply can not stand in for. Not for a lonely wife who misses her beloved husband. It is a beautiful spring day here at Graystone. I shall put on my yellow dress and go for a stroll in the meadow and think of you my precious Edmond. When you return you will join me on such a stroll on a sunny day. We will find the time for that you and I Edmond. Life is far too precious a thing to let the little things pass you by. I have learned that in your long absence.

News from the Capital sounds very good this week. Perhaps you will be home before the first seedlings sprout in my vegetable garden. Oh how wonderful that would be. I look forward to that day with my every breath my love. We will be together very soon.

Your devoted wife,

Lizbeth

April 9, 1865

My Beloved Lizbeth,

We have just received word that General Lee had surrendered. This wretched war is finally over and I can return home to you and our son. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you how this news has lifted my spirits. My thoughts are now consumed with finding my way home. Mt captain tells me if all goes well I should be walking up that long path of Graystone in just three weeks. Oh Lizbeth my heart can not wait to see you there in that new dress you made for the occasion with William in your arms. I will try to continue to write but I do not know where I will be. Rest assured though I will be on my way home to you my love just as fast as the good Lord can take me there.

Your very loving husband,

Edmond

Haley was crying as she read the end of the letter. She imagined that Lizbeth had probably gotten it about a week before Edmond returned home. Haley herself felt an excitement as if Edmond was returning to her. She had gotten lost in the letters. For just a while she was Lizbeth longing for her Edmond to come home from war. When she finally came back to present day she wiped her tears and tied the letters back up with the ribbon. She carefully put them back in the green cabinet and put the lock back on the latch. She closed the lock and laid her hand on the green door. Everything inside belonged there she realized that. It was its home where it was meant to be. That was why it was still there after all of those years. Others must have read the letters just like Haley had and just like her they too knew they forever belonged in the green cabinet.

The End

"Selling" Pets on Craigslist

2010-08-17T17:27:00.000-05:00

True story about rehoming pets using Craigslist. Some people may not agree but you can find a good home using Craigslist. Tips on posting and what to look out for when posting pets on Craigslist.

Selling" Pets on Craigslist

Sign the Petition on the BP Oil Spill

2010-06-29T19:11:00.000-05:00

The truth behind the BP Gulf Oil Spill and what the mainstream media IS NOT telling us. Links to email your representatives in Congress along with vital information on the oil spill. Be informed!

Sign the Petition on the BP Oil Spill

My Cat Just Died

2010-05-21T20:16:00.000-05:00

A tribute to my beautiful cat Perdy who died this week. Anyone who loves cats knows how it feels. It's been a hard week and I miss Perdy constantly.

My Cat Just Died

Book Video Trailer: A Place Called Home

2010-05-14T07:01:00.000-05:00

Buy Mud Pie Clothing Online

2010-04-05T17:39:00.000-05:00

If you are a mother/grandmother of kids you will want to take a look at the adorable kids clothing by a company called Mud Pie. I dressed my newborn granddaughter for her first photo shoot in her new Mud Pie clothing that I bought online. Just adorable!!

Buy Mud Pie Clothing Online

I Didn't Ask to Be Born!

2010-04-05T08:08:00.002-05:00

Ever heard some child yelling at their parents, saying, “I didn’t ask to be born!” Uh, oh yes you did.

Your birth was not an accident. It was not even fate. You, your spirit, your essence, your “I-ness,” your energy, whatever you want to call it, [b][i]chose[/i][/b] to incarnate on the Earth. You had the freewill to make the choice of being born at this time. Remember, freewill must always remain intact. It is a law of the Universe. You chose to incarnate because you chose evolution rather than stagnation. That’s the way it works. You must choose. If you don't go through the process of choosing and learning then how can you evolve? If you are forced to go through your existence with no choices then you are certainly not evolving. You may not remember making the choices, right now anyway, but you did.

It might be you even chose your circumstances, chose your parents, chose the obstacles you’ve come up against. You may have chosen those challenges to teach yourself something that you knew you would need to know in order to either evolve (grow and learn) or to complete a mission (service to others.) Living in poverty may teach you humility. Being bullied may teach you compassion. Being judged may teach you tolerance. Making mistakes may teach you to forgive. So, when things seem to go very wrong for you, remember, this life, these circumstances, you (your sub-conscious mind or higher self) chose them. The reason is usually to have a catalyst for learning so that you may evolve. There is no one to blame for what you have experienced. Not God, not the Universe, nor your rotten luck, or the “family curse,” and certainly not any human being.

All that being said, I believe one of the main reasons we've chosen to be here at this time was because it was our intent to come and make a difference. We knew that this time would be an extraordinary time, a time when the world is rapidly changing, a time when the people of the world would awaken to see through the veil and know who they truly are. For many who have been born within the past 20 years, you may feel as if there is something you’re right on the verge of remembering. That something is your legacy.

Excerpt from Michael's Dream, End Hatred-Change the World

Available at Amazon

The Lost Art of Painting on Windows

2009-12-02T22:47:00.000-06:00

Ever wonder who those artists are that paint those holiday windows on storefronts? I'm one of them! Here is an article that I wrote about my exploits as an "extreme" window artist. I did hundreds of windows for Trader Joes and 24 Hour Fitness for many many years. This article explains how I got started and how my window painting career evolved. I have some pictures of my work here in the article too. Enjoy!

The Lost Art of Painting on Windows

A RATIONALE BEYOND LIGHT !

2009-11-20T00:11:00.003-06:00

My exposer to Physics at high school happened about six months after I could fairly understand english..till then I knew science as General science only.

An year n knowing physics in terms of Matter,Sound,Light,Energy,Heat N interactive forces then exposer to Structure of matter,Molecules,Atoms and then Atom itself whence I was to learn that about 2.5 million Atoms sit upon Tip of a needle.

My curiosity though ignorant on finer aspects ; break Atom I did in my mind beyond available data to an extent of Quarks .

Einsteins' Noble Prize winning energy equation E=MCxC implored me to think Light itself as most basic matter though I didnt know photon as most basic light.

Light Knows their Children ; Light is Life ; Soul ; Spirit ; Affection ; Love ; One Imperishable Him.

Once my high school maths teacher said,

" My goal is prove existence of God through Maths "

I then started thinking ON " A RATIONALE beyond Light ".

My posts on relative Significance ,

1 : An Implored Call on God ...... At Yuwie and Myspace

2 : Simple Logic ........................ At Yuwie

3 : Pure Logic .......................... At Yuwie and The Portfolio .

4 : Intutions and Reflections..... At Yuwie and The Portfolio

5 : Soothing Shadows ............. At Yuwie MySpace and The Portfolio.

Charan

Dorsi Diaz: SF Climate Change Examiner

2009-03-16T20:05:00.000-05:00

Dorsi Diaz: SF Climate Change Examiner
My new position as reporter on Climate Change over at the SF Examiner online paper. Come over and check out the real scoop on climate change: the good, the bad and the ugly.

Want to be a Reporter? Here's Your Chance!

2009-03-11T22:41:00.000-05:00

Want to be a Reporter? Here's Your Chance!
My latest article about writing for the Examiner. If you like to write you'll want to check this out. I just started my new position as SF Climate Change reporter, and they have many more positions to fill around the country.

How to Vaccinate a Puppy

2009-03-01T22:48:00.001-06:00

How to Vaccinate a Puppy

This is a step by step article on how to give your own puppy vaccinations. It's possible to do yourself but you need to learn the steps on how to give dog shots.

What Is The Nigerian Scam?

2009-02-22T16:00:00.000-06:00

What Is The Nigerian Scam?
My latest article about the "Nigerian" or 419 scam. Don't fall victim to online scammers who will wipe out your life savings. Read and let all your friends know this scam is still going strong, and people are still falling victim to it, with no recourse. If something seems to be good to be true on the internet, it probably is!

One Life Giver One Life Provider !

2008-12-21T05:38:00.023-06:00

THUS SPOKE THE WATER TO MAN...................

I am water a truth

Pure seem pure stature

Transparent Truth

Life to live nature

'Ekk Onkar Satnam' means

God is One

He gives life

He is heart of life

Almighty God Him

His name The Truth

Soil my habitat I live in greens

I live in him I live in her

Provide him life I provide her life

Provider of life to every living being

In pure seem purest stature .

Food no food taste is no taste

Air no air breath is no breath

Its me you drink its me you eat

Whatever the form intake .

Bared off me life is no life

bared off me nothing lives

Absorbeth me dust absorbeth stone

Shape result shape alive

In him I live in her I live

Life I live - destiny all around .

They call Him God

They call Him Truth

I am no God I am a truth

He gives life I provide life .

He lives up there so you spell

Uphold you always Him up there

Humle me dweleth down below

Floweth me down the shortest way .

Yes humblest of humble me the water

My unltimate habitat the bottomest bottom .

You gave Him name then names too many

Broke His name distorted His name

Satyug to Treta and Dwapar to Kalyug

Live nature you hurt then ill-willed life

Maligning you are now me the water

Malignancy it is of life your own

Malignantly yes life all around .

My lone identity my lone desire

My lone life is life your own

Humblest of humble me the water

Asketh I of you begeth me of you

Call me neer may you call me jal

Let me please live pure .

Or as you distorted God mine God yours

Bring you shall death unto me unto You .

Fire Proof Your Marriage

2008-11-17T11:49:00.000-06:00

Fire Proof Your Marriage
Is your marriage in trouble? Are you facing insurmountable problems within your marriage? This is a must read and must see movie for married people......and those considering marriage. Great family movie. FIREPROOF YOUR MARRIAGE!

The Chihuahua Puppy Chronicles

2008-11-12T23:04:00.000-06:00

The Chihuahua Puppy Chronicles
My latest article on my new adventures with 2 chihuahua puppies. How would have thought???

SOOKHI MERI KALAM UDAAS

2008-11-03T22:50:00.004-06:00

Sooni sooni O bagiya meri !

Na bhaaye moye chitt na patt
Soone bhaye mere jeewat haath

Mann bhi soona tann bhi soona
Bhaye soone mere hosh hawaas .

Aisee sookhi aankhein meri
Sookha jyon pathhar bin payaas

Sookhi dwaat mai syahi yaaro
Sookh gayi meri Kalam udaas.

Some translation :

sooni bagia : lonesome , aloof habitat
sookhi aankhein : dry eyes
pathar bin pyas : stone has no thirst
dwaat : ink pot
sookhi syahi : dry ink
udaas : sad and aloof
kalam : a sharpened bamboo stick to dip in ink pot to write .

Poem summerised :

aloof lonesome habitat
head or tails lost meaning
dry aloof hands , lonely heart
no feelings within ;
numb body stature , numb intellect
eyes dried ( as after tears )
as dry as stone is without thirst
so did dry the ink pot
so dried to aloofness the sad lonely kalam .

Ribbit

2008-10-27T07:48:00.001-05:00

Ribbit

A man made of dust, a rib-bitch,
a “smart” apple, and a singing serpent…
Holy shit!
Sounds like the makings of a Carroll
or a Dickens, but it isn’t…
It’s the beginning of us, folks.
This is the opening salvo of the Word,
the Holy Bible, for which,
whether you believe it or not,
we are all partly liable…

Honestly now, who in good faith
can subscribe to a Way that flatly condemns
four billion non-believers to Hell in a handbag,
no questions asked, to say nothing
of at least another billion hypocrites?
How presumptuous is that? And inane!
No wonder the Muslims are pissed!

Oh, ribbit! Ribbit, ribbit!
The frogs are calling. Can’t you hear them?
Come join in this “sing-along” and become a part
of first sub-par soap opera in human history.
All you have to do is confess your sins,
swear allegiance to JC and give, give, give,
until it hurts so good
that you can’t possibly feel bad anymore–
or much of anything else, for that matter,
including your pocket book!

There’s just no arguing the lunacy of this plot:
give everything you’ve got
for the promise of a mansion in Paradise
(They don’t have any down here.)
and the deal is done! –
the Lexus deal, that is, for Brother Bob,
who’s currently shooting your wad
on a double-bogie on the back nine
at Marina Del Ray, where they say
the “fishing” is really good!

But, of course, the “plot” is good…
How could two billion people be wrong?
Right. Put another way:
how could two billion strong be so stupid?
Ignorance helps a lot, and it doesn’t take long
to master what is arguably the oldest con game
“to the end of the world.”

Copyright © 2008 Richard David Kennedy: Guilt, By Association: Collected Short Stories & Incidental Music. All rights reserved under international copyright conventions. No part of the contents of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written consent of the author.

FIVE horror anthologies for Halloween consumption - by Tamara Wilhite and co-authors!

2008-10-11T16:48:00.002-05:00

Five new horror anthologies co-written by Tamara Wilhite - in print, eBook, AND Amazon Kindle!

“Deadly Dolls” anthology

On Amazon Kindle: http://www.amazon.com/Deadly-Dolls-New-Horror-Anthology/dp/B001HBI6G6/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1223326439&sr=8-1

With a print edition coming out soon on Lulu.com.

“Genres” Anthology

In PRINT: http://www.lulu.com/content/2992777

Amazon Kindle: http://www.amazon.com/Genres/dp/B001C7DHQE/ref=sr_1_4?ie=UTF8&s=digital-text&qid=1223326630&sr=1-4

New Voices In Horror Anthology - Volume 1 (New Voices In Horror Anthology)

eBook PDF: http://www.lulu.com/content/4140670

Kindle Edition: http://www.amazon.com/New-Voices-Horror-Anthology/dp/B001FOQXS8/ref=pd_rhf_f_t_k2a_3

“The Dead City Chronicles”

Download PDF: http://www.lulu.com/content/2488055

On Amazon Kindle: http://www.amazon.com/The-Dead-City-Chronicles/dp/B00192IDUM/ref=pd_rhf_f_t_k2a_2

Fiction Prodigies And Legends Volume 1 -Interviews with the New Voices In Horror

IN PRINT: http://www.lulu.com/content/3937785

Amazon Kindle edition:

http://www.amazon.com/Fiction-Prodigies-Legends-Interviews-Voices/dp/B001FOQV9O/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=digital-text&qid=1223326714&sr=1-1

"Bonded by Blood" out in time for Halloween

2008-09-29T10:27:00.001-05:00

"Bonded by Blood" - a terrifically terrifying multi-author anthology, including work by Tamara Wilhite, available on lulu. com

www.lulu.com/content/4084856

On Being Me

2008-09-20T13:32:00.002-05:00

I am 46 years old but just a kid at heart. I have imaginative yet attainalbe goals. I live a modest lifestyle in a rented home with my husband and middle child. I have gratitude for everything bestowed upon me, the friendships developed over my years that have never left me as well as those that have flickered for a while then moved on. I feel that every day is an adventurous learning experience, even when I've done nothing at all.

That I can be this way after living the first 32 years of my life is a testament to the power one holds within oneself. I could have become an introvert, one who lived only for my children without caring for myself. Okay, so I did for a few years before realizing that the only one making me that way was ME.

Today, I can look back on all the negatives in my life and be thankful for them. Had I not gone through much of what I did, I would not be where I am. I would not know how fortunate I really have been for having lived the life I have. I know who I am and despite my faults, I am a pretty great person. To be able to know I am exactly where I should be is in itself an awesome feeling.

I don't dream of being more than I am right now: Me.

Fiction Prodigies And Legends Volume 1 - Interviews with the New Voices In Horror

2008-09-13T11:21:00.003-05:00

I write science fiction as a passion and software and industrial engineering articles for a living. However, the collision of evolving technology and devolving human ethics often leads to very dark science fiction.
I am honored to have been included with Anne Rice and Ralan Conley in a new book of interviews with current and rising horror authors:

“Fiction Prodigies And Legends Volume 1 - Interviews with the New Voices In Horror "

Available in Amazon Kindle at:
http://www.amazon.com/New-Voices-Fiction-Interviews-Horror/dp/B001FOQV9O/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1221322933&sr=1-1

And available in print form at:
http://www.lulu.com/content/3937785

The accompanying short story anthology is:

New Voices In Horror Anthology - Volume 1 (New Voices In Horror Anthology)

Amazon Kindle form:

http://www.amazon.com/New-Voices-Horror-Anthology/dp/B001FOQXS8/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1221322933&sr=1-2

Soon to be available in print from www.lulu.com

Why I'm Voting For Obama

2008-09-10T23:42:00.000-05:00

Why I'm Voting For Obama

Book signings for Tamara Wilhite Nov. 29th

2008-09-05T14:41:00.002-05:00

Tamara Wilhite will be signing copies of "Humanity's Edge", "Sirat: Through the Fires of Hell" and "Genres".
Also featuring Donette Smith, author of "Lady Gabriella"

When: Saturday Nov 29, 2008
at 1:00 PM to 5 PM
AKA - Black Saturday, busiest shopping day of the year

Where Hastings Book Store
2311 Colorado Blvd.

Denton, Texas 76205
near the mall, short hop from UNT campus and loop 288

How most internet marketing gurus are ripping off writers

2008-08-23T12:16:00.000-05:00

How most internet marketing gurus are ripping off writers

By Tamara Wilhite

“If you just get it on the internet, it’ll get it sold!” That’s the promise of many internet marketing gurus, but it is rarely the result. How most internet marketing gurus are ripping off people is by charging exorbitant fees for services and tasks many people can do themselves. And often, can do for themselves for a much lower price.

1. Internet marketing gurus rip offs include listing your products or books or services on free bulletin boards or cheap auction sites. This is something you can do yourself. Some sites even let you list events such as product demonstrations, book signings, and meet the inventor night. If someone offers to promote your product or service, be sure to ask “Where?”

2. If your product is listed on most mainstream retailers, even general users can add keywords and indexing phrases. If you hit the limit on index words or key words to the listing, ask a few friends to help. It’s cheaper than paying a marketing guru to hire people to do it for you. Don’t get charged for indexing your product on your website or on listings where the product or service is for sale.

3. They may create a website using the same software packages that those most people can set up themselves. The even greater rip-offs are when they also charge for uploading the site or hosting it, when free web hosting services already exist.

4. If they are charging for adding content to your website to increase hits, you would be better off creating your own content. This can include a “blog by the product inventor”, “words by the company president”, or “how it’s made” segments. You might even want to consider doing your own podcasts for any of the above blogs or interviews.

5. Before you get charged for putting product ads on some of the popular video sites, create your own account on those same video sharing sites. Then upload your own “great new product” or “super service now out” ads. It may not be marketing gold, but it doesn’t cost a fortune, either. And who knows? It may start a word of mouth firestorm on your product or service, without costing some cool cash.

6. Internet marketing rip offs include charging you for distributing “promotional samples” or “product demonstrations”. You can promote your own products and services by offering free product samples and demonstrations without an internet marketing guru’s help. Consider any public gathering that will let you attend, or offering your services or products to a charity in return for publicity. For a greater return on effort, get video of the product and by-stander comments for free promotional tidbits and testimonials.

How most internet marketing gurus are ripping off people is by charging for services and actions that you don’t have to be a computer guru to do. Try a few do-it-yourself marketing tricks like those above to save some money. There are legitimate web marketing services out there, from creating a professional website to polished web banner ads. However, if the service offers to charge you for things you can do for free or cheap, go somewhere else.

For more tips on marketing, writing, and publishing, read more by Tamara Wilhite at:

Marketing Your Writing, an Amazon Short
by Eric Enck And Tamara Wilhite

http://www.amazon.com/Marketing-Your-Writing/dp/B0013AKMHC/ref=sr_1_4?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1203282442&sr=1-4

Successful Book Signing Tips by Eric Enck and Tamara Wilhite (Kindle Edition)

http://www.amazon.com/Successful-Book-Signing-Tamara-Wilhite/dp/B0011MSA7G

About the author:

Tamara Wilhite is the author of "Humanity's Edge", "Geronimo Reduex", “Natural Talent” and “Sirat: Through the Fires of Hell”, all available on amazon.com. She is also an engineer, the “IE in IT” blogger for the Institute of Industrial Engineers, and regular contributor to http://rdkpf.blogspot.com/.

My Light Side

2008-08-13T10:30:00.008-05:00

One of the marvelous things I’ve noticed about my life these days is an awareness of the approach of darker moods. I’ll have periods of light and joy that can last for days or weeks, followed by a more contracted period during which I feel heavy and burdened, moody and even haunted. The marvelous thing, the true miracle, is that I’m actually aware of the dark period and cognizant that it, too, shall pass.

Better still, the dark periods are lasting a shorter and shorter period of time.

(And to think, this is the stuff I used to take prescribed medication for – "correcting" or avoiding the normal cycles of my life!)

I am SO GRATEFUL.

I think that I am very fortunate – blessed – to be on the life path I have created. So how are some of the ways I help to ensure that my blessed life path stays (more or less) even keeled?

Well:

Each day I do a form of yoga for an hour. I say “form of yoga” because – to date – I have no formal training and merely utilize my own intuition to do “poses” that my body enjoys, desires, or needs. In addition to “yoga” I also throw in some push-ups and crunches.
When I remember to – or when I am stressed that I am driven to – I meditate. I practice Transcendental Meditation because that is the method in which I was initiated (in the early 1970s).
Though I don’t really pray, I do use affirmative thinking and shamanistic techniques to assert a fine reality (and/or to accept the reality I find myself blessed with on a given day).
I try to remember that “bad things” don’t happen to me. Rather, they are offered up to me by Spirit (God, Goddess et al.) as opportunities to learn. Practice makes perfect. Okay, a LOT of practice (hopefully) will make perfect one day!
For my diet, I rely on the Atkins/South Beach approach. This is a good diet for me because I tend to be compulsive with sweets (e.g. I can’t eat one Pepperidge Farm cookie – I have to eat the entire box in one sitting!). So if I cut out the carbs (noodles, potatoes, rice, pies, etc.) I do much better. (And for those who are wondering, the cravings for those items actually go aware more or less completely after about two weeks into the diet.)
I make a concerted effort to constantly practice staying focused on the joy of living. I do this by staying aware (conscious) (hint: read the Power of Now: A Guide to Spiritual Enlightenment and A New Earth: Awakening to Your Higher Purpose by Eckhart Tolle) and by watching the more upbeat movies and reading the more upbeat books.
I try not to watch the news or read the newspapers. Like sugar, I have a tendency to over-indulge in the media circus. I’m better off laying off the junk altogether. (Plus it’s kind of fun in a wicked way to see all the chaos you missed during a one period away from the “news.” People die, get thrown out of office, scandalize themselves and, what’s worse, this stuff gets dragged out day after day after day for human consumption. I remember one time I found out the Pope had died, then died again (they only thought he had died the first time!). When you step away from the “news” – you realize just how much madness it contains, how much negativity it reinforces, and how unimportant most of it truly is in the long run.
Alcohol is a plant medicine that has a negative spin for me. Though, in general, I'm not entirely opposed to imbibing once in a while, it tends to leave me feeling darker in mood and spirit than when I avoid it. I'm not obsessed with its use or non-use, but I am extremely aware that it opens up portals to darker places in me.

I know that a lot of these items make me look and sound like a prude or just plain dull. So be it. I know that I’m not – and I also know that I lived a non-prudish, exciting life in my “past.” Given the choice between the two, knowing what I know now, I’ll take prudish and dull anyway.

And so it is.

SOOTHING SHADOWS

2008-08-11T01:24:00.012-05:00

Chand ko chhuaa maine chandni rooth gayi
Nihaara Sooraj ko toa thandak naseeb huyi !
Means
Reached for The Moon : moonlight shy......eed away !
The Sun I looked at and Soothing coolness blessed me.

A poets' feel and thought is not like that of the common logical thinker . The philospher thinks yet again different . Some analytical thinkers in scientific mind too like common intellectuals feel , poets - philosphers as of a wierd class , at times freaks and or a sort abnormal genere .Where as physical intellectuals' intellect is limited to common rationality , a different thinking mind from another commonly unknown perspective is an additional intellect domain of poets and philosphers . Their feel comes into picture more often and more distinctly than the material mind ( brain ) as defined in a scientific manner . So is The Adhyatmic...................The Spiritual Thinker.

Some loners some lonely them all with Him .We dont know Him .
Of the deep thinkers a close observance of each gives a sense as each was one by oneself ; one is either a loner or an individual lonely .

Now at core in common definition humans are made of a well defined matter .What makes them ( this matter ) tick on , what keeps this mass together , what keeps man going , and what is it that escapes* and the retained mass of that human decays into some nonliving mass . Here I am going to talk about living and nonliving in terms of matter , a mass and try to see what makes the two distinctly different .

In a scientific rational way the elite intellectual scientist has after searching and researching , analysed human body , anatomy and psysiology of each part trying to assign an essence picture of each , reaching inner core of living cell , dissecting cell further into cromosomes , each of which in biological sense contains hundreds of thousands of various genes . The attempt to assess living matter ; Cell is in a way as deeply dissected ( studied ) and sensed in a rational logical way as is core of Atom of the non living matter , spectroscopically unearthed by another domain of scientists .

Living matter is further deeply gone into by structuring and destructuring of the cell via a via genetics pure and genetic engineering . More minutely The Brain , the head office , an all important manager-analyser instructing each part to core levels of human . Scientists have in their own way framed theories concerning brain , left side balanced brain and right side balanced brain . So to say scientific reasoning with respect to intellect of humans is limited to the style and functional frame of brain in terms of left side and right side brain .Another important partner to brain is heart which until kept ticking and performing its functional role allows the human to live . At best as known to intelligent rational scientist , life that human lives is the life that Heart and Brain lives . As in science there is nothing else ascribed in addition to physically living mass controllers of which are predominently heart and brain . So to say as in science apart from life of heart and brain ( duration domain ) no figurative additional charctristic is assigned to human life . So if a human is rational or irrational , intellectual or not , reasons ascribed to such of traits of human beings must be confined to left side and right side brain via a via genes , so opines our science .

In nonliving frame of matter its atom -- not cell . Atom is further analysed into nuclear and extra nuclear part the electron . Nuclear part is further designed as a bunch protons and neutrons . It is also said that neutron is a combination of an electron and a proton . Neutrons and protons further dissociate into mesons and perhaps mesons into quarks ; quarks -ve quark +ve etc etc etc .Where does this story lead to . More basic particles ? YES though not established yet , it is now argued among physicists that photon is the most basic particle .

Now let us come back to human cell of a living . What happens to this cell after there is no life left in human . Not going into details of cells left in a dead body ; as what would happen to them if left alone ; whether they would they form other living matter ( may be temporarily ) minus heart minus brain , let us reasonably presume that the cells would ultimately decay into a non living matter . We can rationally , logically presume yes . So what is left in this non living matter : well well well ! same atoms and so on and so forth may be...yes should be .
Now let us think what is most basic in living and non living . Doesnt it appear as same basic particle ! Yes it does as far as I can reach and see .Then between two entities , A nonliving solid mass and A human , a living mass : what is the Difference* !

Now let us think again .Is human being too same matter as is the non living matter ! Obviously NOT . So what makes the two Different* ?

Obviously there is Something* not pronounced by science . Since science is governed by matter and space and time and inter related theories and basic scientific principles and laws , this Something* obviously is not solid matter ; neither human cells nor most basic particles . No science in existing rational analytical form could ever touch , leave apart explain on this Something*

Now let us come back again to the scientifically assigned , left side and right side brain , so to say in a rational scientific way . Do they both contain same -- ok similar living cells . hahaahha ? my funny expression is coz I think they are same physically as delebrated above , though as in scientifically assigned logic they are not same , yes they should not be same because they both play a different role . Now even if we take it for granted that scientific assertion regarding a difference is right , it means There Is A thing Unknown In Between Two !
Give it any name Yes there is some such Unknown Something* , which is not material , not matter ( cells ) living or matter nonliving . A thing that makes an all important difference between any two sets of left side and right side brains ; so too between any two humans .
That Difference* itself is The Individual Man . That Difference* each thinks different , behaves and acts different . That Difference* each ( human ) has a life span each and a power each and it is That* which escapes human when human is conclusively dead .

In existing scientific norms it may be temporarily argued that power ( physical strength ) can not be assigned to the pronounced unknown* entity , because power is again physical as per science , be it muscular , be it intellectual .

We have heard of a single man pulling / dragging a whole train , yes there have been such men . Even logically analytical muscle power assigned in a normal human body is not enough to handle this magnitude of pulling , towing by a single human . To me this power too rare is due to that Difference*.

I have personally seen human beings whose backside upper skin ( just below shoulder blades ) sewn through in strong thick thread and two ends of thread are tied to a big goods carrier which is towed ( pulled ) for miles in a procession watched by thousands of people . It means the complete weight of the goods carrier falls on that memberane of the living human which takes the brunt without any other mechanised support . Where as if even one twentieth or one fiftieth of the weight of the same towed trawler , was suspended by the same skin detached off a living human body OR even by a metal wire of an equivalent tensile strength , the weight in reference will not remain suspended , the skin will break , the wire will break instantly . Then how does the same skin of the very rare few enables pull such a heavy goods carrier when the skin is a part of the rare human . Strange but true yes it does and it is obviously due to that Difference* only .
Call it Life* within non living matter that makes living matter , call it Soul* Yes Call It Whatever You Wish to Call . Each life is different from each other and they are all Different* from one another be it on count of intellect , be it physical power and it is not at all due to a physical difference in terms of making of brain and heart , though heart and brain do have a physical difference which is limited to rationale within known science .

This is the Difference* that makes a set of left and right side brains of each human different from another set each .This is the Difference* that one may assign to saying , no two opinions are same , no two intellectuals are same or for that matter no two dumb are dumbs of the same magnitude .

Now by our analysis above , have we arrived at a safe conclusion ?
So it seems , to me : yes it seems so , this* Different * Something* is nothing but the difference between nonliving and living . and this is Different* in each human I repeat .
This Difference* is what escapes a human being when a human being is pronounced dead . This Difference* is the Thing* that escapes any living being , be it human , be it an animal , a bird , an insect , so too any , the minutest living being whatever . How small or how big is not the question , since it is observed in our above discussion , this Notional Entity ( let us say ) Difference* is not Matter .

Now where does This* come from ???

It is said , once great scientists , yes noble laureates of an already established fame each thoughtfully decided between themselves to confer in a meeting for consultations and deleberations to assess as to what extent , they had individually or collectively contributed , unearthed , discovered and invented . Albert Einstein whom I consider , and am sure most of his own contemporaries felt too as probably the elitest of all as a rational thinker ; a philospher within among scientists was also one among them .
Most of the issues conclusively tackled already : for which them each was respectively confered on and pronounced Noble Laureate , were discussed . Each one was infered , tackled in a hard reasoned manner and questioned by each , since great them each was and none was shy of contemporary each during the whole process . Each one found difficulty in reasoning out within deliberation each though point of discussion was already assertained fairly conclusively . There were moments / times when one could not convincingly rationalise ones' own opinion , one was questioned about and one thoughtfully felt that one was left -- mumm..... with no further explanation . It was a sort of resigning off the already established point in question . Albert Einstein faced this situation too , so was in a manner similar was asked Albert Einstein too .

" Then who knows "

He said , " God knows "

Now let us repeat our question ," Where does this Difference* come from and where does this escapes to "

" God Knows "

Well !

What I mean here is that within known rationale , I can not assertain where That* comes from OR where That* Escapes to--what I described as : The Difference* I observed between Living and Nonliving .

I would neither claim that I know , nor guess ; call That* Aatma* , call That* Soul* or Whatever* you prefer to ; though in past innumerous Adhyatmics and saintly Spirituals in various Domains of human races have proclaimed so , I shall confine myself to known Rationale .

And I repeat on my rational observation : The Differnce* Soul* or Aatma* exists and This* Difference* is not physical matter .

Things To Consider When Renting Out A Room

2008-07-21T09:51:00.000-05:00

If you are considering renting out a room in your home, here are some tips and advice for things to consider. Renting out a room can be helpful in these economically stressing times, but there are things you should know about first.

Things To Consider When Renting Out A Room

"Genres" - a new horror anthology by Tamara Wilhite

2008-07-20T10:51:00.002-05:00

For $11, including shipping and postage, you can have a signed copy of my
new horror anthology "Genres"!

Mutants - check
Vampires - check
Zombies - check
End of the world - check!

Forward your address and number of copies (and paypal payments, if you will not mailing payment) to TAMARAWILHITE@HOTMAIL.COM, and you'll be sent your signed copy of "Genres"!

Sincerely,

Tamara Wilhite

Author of "Humanity's Edge" and "Sirat: Through the Fires of Hell", available on Amazon.com

2008-07-11T19:01:00.002-05:00

If I could I would love you...
I would let my heart go - and never look back,
a cloud in the sky moving ever so slow
the sun rising above the mountain's
with such a beautiful glow ;
I would laugh till tears fell from my eyes,
and cry with a smile on face
If I could ever let go;
I would fly my way to you,
never wanting to go home
only you on my mind
others would know;
I would be me and that you know,
the love is ture
distance will show;
I do love you in this you see,
time makes a path
only God can view
for you and me;
Now, I see~
I can love you,
but I have to be free;
FW

We are so much more beneath the skin

2008-07-11T16:10:00.002-05:00

Just last week a friend of mine was telling me how she's organizing a national contest that involves pianists from a range of different places as well as walks of life. She told me waitresses, laborers, all types of people who are gifted with that type of musical ability will compete during this event next week. I didn't get any more details than that, or the official name of the contest. I believe she is going to be sending me more information, in case I want to volunteer to help prepare for it with her this weekend.

However, that snippet of conversation between us, during a quick snack break in the office cafeteria, really made me do a double take. I guess, like everyone, I have my own ideas of how things are and aren't, and often think people can be neatly categorized into neatly labeled packages. I have to remind myself now and then that just because a person waitresses at a restaurant or shines shoes for a living -- that doesn't mean that what we see is the total sum of who they are.

I don't believe I'm the only one who makes snap judgments in this way. I'm kind of ashamed that I do. I just assume that a person working in the auto parts store never went to college or even dreamed of it. I really can't talk, at 35 years old, with no degree to speak of. It just never happened for me. The timing was never right when I was young and wanted it so badly I could taste it. By the time the opportunities were more available to me I was making a good living and needed the full-time salary to survive; so I couldn't just quit to attend school. I tried more than once to attend evening classes, and it interfered with so many other things I wanted to do in life -- which was, well...to have a life. I wasn't able to make that commitment that many other working adults do for years in order to have the honor of a degree bestowed upon them. I don't know if I ever will. I have no energy, willpower, much less mental acuity left at the end of the working day. I jumped in with the best intentions at a few different schools, many times. I've had to put that dream on the backburner. You can't live in this society without working full-time, and going to classes late into the night and trying to rise early is not an option for me.

Anyway...maybe these hardworking people I see in restaurants, or working on construction projects by the side of a busy highway, are more dedicated than I am. Maybe they do what they do just to bide their time as they struggle through long hours of college courses that will, in the long run, send them into careers more to their liking. We can't know everything by the skin on the outside of one another. So I know that I need to work on not assuming I know everything about other people from what I see on the outside.

My friend's mention of this competition really brought this home for me. Maybe some people have menial jobs or quiet, simple lives. But deep inside of some of them, as in everyone, something surprising lives and breathes that might astonish us if we better took the time to know them.

Let's make this improved perception of those around us something that we take to heart, and not be so quick to throw away the chance to meet amazing people

Amazon Kindle's Embers

2008-07-08T17:03:00.002-05:00

Amazon Kindle’s Embers

By Tamara Wilhite

I’ve had articles, short stories, and now Kindle versions of both of my books “Sirat: Through the Fires of Hell” and “Humanity’s Edge” published in Kindle format. There have been trials and errors and learning experiences (and a best selling Amazon Kindle “Amazon Kindle Publishing for Idiots”) along the way.

As the fire dims and the warm glow of the accomplishments linger, a few remaining embers glow, warnings for other would be Kindle authors.

Make sure you retain the rights to the works BEFORE publishing them. If the contract does not mention digital rights, it may still be restricted by the publisher under “retaining ALL rights”. Read your contract before you Amazon Kindle it.
PDF files and Microsoft Word files do not convert the same to Amazon Kindle. Just because the PDF came back great from the printer doesn’t mean it looks great on Kindle. Always, always preview. If you can’t edit the PDF file, get an editor. Or convert the PDF back to Microsoft word and convert to Amazon Kindle compatible format per my Amazon Kindle article “Amazon Kindle Publishing for Idiots”.
Page lengths aren’t the same between print and digital. Make sure your Kindle work doesn’t retain old page numbers in a condensed format.
Amazon is great at processing payments and sending them to you once you sell copies. However, it is up to you to market and sell, sell, sell.
Just because you list a price doesn’t mean it sells at that price. Amazon reserves the right to put stuff on sale – and does, sometimes within hours of your listing or price increase. On one hand, lowering the price can improve sales. And Amazon does not reduce your royalty rate on that sales price.

More tips to come as the learning curve becomes less steep.

About the author:
Tamara Wilhite is the author of “Humanity’s Edge”, Sirat: Through the Fires of Hell”, and “SETI in Reverse”; all are available through www.amazon.com. Her new anthology “Genres” is available on www.lulu.com.

TWO more book signings for author Tamara Wilhite

2008-07-06T11:35:00.001-05:00

Saturday, August 9th, 1-4 PM

At "His Folk, Books and More" book store, Tamara Wilhite will be signing her science fiction anthology "Humanity's Edge" and new novel "Sirat: Through the Fires of Hell" from 1 - 4 PM.

"His Folk, Books and More"
7801 Brandi Place, Suite A
North Richland Hills, TX 76180

Saturday, August 16th, 2 - 4 PM

Tamara Wilhite is returning to the Lone Star Books and Comics Dallas Flagship store

Lone Star Books and Comics - Dallas Flagship Store
6465 E. Mockingbird Lane
Dallas, Texas 75214

How I Saw You !

2008-07-06T00:49:00.007-05:00

Gentle 'soul' drawforth flowers

Heavenly instinct Godly stature

Righteous thought off manly womb

Reflect 'Act' kalyug Absorbers.

See I did
Yet you ask me
How I saw you !

That you ask me
There is a thought within you
You saw something
There is an Eye within you

Not the eyes
Not eyes you see with
Its an Eye within
Given you by Him

That use you can
Yes use I too

Now use That Eye
And see me through
You will see
The Eye That Saw You !

Kalyug : A period of Satanic Prominence.

Hot Sexy Cat Pics

2008-06-14T12:34:00.000-05:00

Hot Sexy Cat Pics

The latest Sex and the Kitty pictures- straight from HubPages- a writers community. Cute pics of sexy kitties and great links. Comical and fun for a laugh break!

Next book signing for Tamara Wilhite

2008-06-12T20:01:00.003-05:00

Tamara Wilhite will be at the Plano Convention Center during HammComm, THIS SATURDAY, 8 AM to 12 PM.
She will be signing copies of "Sirat: Through the Fires of Hell" and "Humanity's Edge".
She will also be signing "SETI in Reverse", co-written with Kent Britain, WA5VJB.

LIFE

2008-06-10T06:35:00.001-05:00

Friendship....Companionship....Joy.....Laughter....Sadness....Despair....Confidences....Empathy....Trust....Caring....Sharing....Love....

Life is a progression through stages and cycles. Birth, life and death-then rebirth. As a plant emerges from the seed, so too are we born. The cycles of life progress through seasons...birth, growth, maturity and a waning....only to be born again in the spring.

I have had many instances in which I took time to ponder these wondrous things. I am amazed that these cycles of birth, death and rebirth play out from the most minuscule of matter to the most grandiose of stellar galaxies. It is always the same.....

Can it be that this is happenstance? I think a process this complex can only be played out by design.

On a waning moonlit night, with stars in their full glory; stand in a clearing and gaze at the vastness. A humbling experience at the very least. Technology has brought this to us on a much grander scale, with the advent of the Hubble. We are reaching out to touch the very essence of life and the questions that have haunted mankind since we first became aware......are we alone? Is this all there is? How far does the universe extend? It is a one plane existence, or is this, too, a cycle? Are there other galaxies like ours that support ‘life’? Can we dare hope they are not hostile?

Our world, our lives are no more than a speck in the great vastness.....Yet we matter. If life on Earth were to suddenly disappear, would anyone or anything ever KNOW that we lived? Would they care that we felt all the emotions that make us human? Would they take the time to discover this world’s processes, and would they be that much different from their own?

Our physical existence would be apparent in the evidence left behind....But what of the true essences that make us human? Our emotions...Would they know how it feels to have a friend, a companion or a lover? Would they even know how to relate to the concept of love? Would they know the joy of two people who have discovered love? Would they know the utter bliss in lovemaking? Would they feel the elation of a woman as she delivers her newborn? Would they know the tears she sheds are for Joy? Would they understand the concept of compassion? Would they understand that we mourn when one of us passes from this life into the next? Do they share our knowledge of something beyond this life? Or do they know?

So, the more we discover about our existence, the more questions we ask. We are a curious species, we push for knowledge, and we strive with all our entire essence to Understand the incomprehensible, and in that understanding we are truly human.

-----------------------------------------AFTERMATH>>>>>>>>........__________

2008-06-10T01:55:00.002-05:00

Atop seventh moon
Seventh heaven The Feel
A state too heavenly
Delicate Numb Heart .

The notional reasons
Feels numb d' heart
Blind is the Mind
Thinks she not .

Visualises colours
Colours lovely bright
Blue green purple
And pink voilet white .

Too pretty and lovely
Fragrant as fragrance
As pure as nector
As pious and saintly.

Colours bright of Love
Shall see her all
Until day shall see
The Colour of colours .

A deep RED that
As A Hill Atop
Do what , would mind silt
When milk is spilt !

Completeness

2008-06-07T08:25:00.000-05:00

I am complete within myself
I walk in mystery
I have seen ages unfold
and yet I am
I walk in beauty and grace
given to me by the Goddess
I have walked the universe
in all its splendor
I am wisdom for I am ancient
I see life for what it is...a gift
I seek not your approval
I seek your companionship
I am what I am and that is
all that I have and that is enough
Take my hand and we will discover
newness in the mundane...a reawakening
through the eyes of a child...as only
lovers can

How can you get "Amazon Kindle Publishing for Idiots" without a Kindle?

2008-06-05T16:56:00.002-05:00

After popular demand for these titles – and readers asking “How can I get these titles without Amazon Kindle?” – I’m now offering these titles IN PRINT.

“Amazon Kindle Publishing for Idiots”

“Writing Marketing Tips From Eric Enck and Tamara Wilhite”

State which title you want. Now on sale for $2 with SASE or $2.50 without SASE

After popular demand for these titles – and readers asking “How can I get these titles without Amazon Kindle?” – I’m now offering these titles IN PRINT.

Send check or money order and request for the titles to:

Tamara Wilhite

2024 Oakmeadow St.

Bedford, TX 76021

For technical assistance in doing an Amazon Kindle conversion, setting up Amazon Search Inside for your books, or interviews and presentations to groups, I can be reached at:
sirat@wilhite.homeip.net

FLOWERMAID SHALL BE MY QUEEN

2008-06-05T00:35:00.004-05:00

Upsteps soothes damsel sweet
Her feminine charm every morn .
Amazed I wonder as she ascends
Is that flowers' or fragrance Her !

Moments before in gaze each day ,
Her delicate lithesome musical stride ;
Am Prince d' Palace she Flowermaid
Rhythems notes , my expectant heart.

Unsoothing but fresh and harsh
In core her pain her dearest peer ;
Forgiven she has my hunting deed !
My cruel spear that killed her deer.

Deer decidous lone companion
Woodwords go her only pass ,
Her joy her pride her love her deer
Her only love made I my prey.

Reach I did my prize my prey
Gaze deep and moist did I collect ;
A voice A cry , "what did you sir"
Maketh you sleep my dearest love !

Since the day and moment each
Lamenteth me , my terrible deed
How could I do , undo her loss
Make her good my mammoth heed !

Decideth now why not this be
Why not me be her only dear ,
Make her sweet my lovely queen
Coz' her seems my only dear.

Yes Flowermaid shall be my Queen.

New nonfiction book for Tamara Wilhite

2008-06-03T16:35:00.000-05:00

Saving Money, Time, Sanity and Yourself (Kindle Edition)
by Tamara Wilhite
http://www.amazon.com/Saving-Money-Time-Sanity-Yourself/dp/B001ALP9BS/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1212453632&sr=8-1

My first non-fiction book is now out on Amazon Kindle!

Musings of the Mad

2008-05-30T02:53:00.002-05:00

"Love lost is bitter and impossible to ignore. Love received is sweet with it's tender embrace...
Love not received and lost is nothing but a constant reminder. Of something that never was, but is always there."

"I am all out of love, I am so lost without you...
A dedication to love, pain, confusion...
And so many tears.
In memory of you Debra,
You were my salvation, and my damnation.
In loving memory of all those found, and then lost..
I never wanted it to be this way."

FLUID HORIZON

She had loved this place, as had I. In those far and away times we walked hand in hand and laughed in this place. The joy of those days, when I still lived within the warmth of our bond. This warmth fueled my soul. I miss that, more than she will ever know. We had made love here, time and time again upon the cruel stones. From beyond the fires ring she sang to me songs and ballads of love and eternity. Tonight within the stones the flames lick and cavort as if they can hear her memory, if I try I can hear her voice faintly upon the winds. Echoing into the bleak of today from the endless corridors of yesterday. Her voice was so beautiful , so beautiful as it drifted above the peals of the crashing surf, and it danced upon the winds. She will not sing tonight, she will never sing to me again, not ever, ever again.

Alone I watch the moon rise upon the liquid horizon. I never thought that I would face the nights sentinel alone again, I always thought she would be here. So I stand with the flames heat upon my back, the chill whipping of the wind chills my face as the frosty, ruthless pale of the moonlight falls upon me.

I cry her name into the night, shouting at the idiot face of the moon. Slashing tears burn like wounds into my eyes and cascade down the ruin of my face to finally be torn away by the chill caress of the salted wind. My throat stings from my cries, but none hear. She does not hear, she will never hear me, never again.

"I love you so much." I sob to myself. I am my only witness, in weakness I sink to the unforgiving stones in a biting sense of enfeeblement. My passion for her was as the mighty hand of God lifting me to the realm of the fixed stars, the highest pinnacle of the universe. Now it is a core of pasty, frozen acid that festers within the reaches of my heart. As I had once spiraled into the heights of joy and contentment I now plummet into deeper and darker pits of stink and festering symphonies of agony.

I need her, but she is gone. How I had loved her, loved her with all my heart. No amount of love will bring her back, she does not care, not anymore. Our promises whispered into the ebony silks are betrayed and cast into the flames. Like her letters and pictures, one by one disintegrated within my pyre of purest regret and pain. With each burst of flame I say farewell. With each crackle and spark I shed another tear. All the ink spread by her loving hand now ashes and smoke.

I am so lonely on our former perch. So many things remind me of her. I am haunted, hounded and haunted by her ghost with each ragged step I take in this hollow and empty world. Only grief remains now, only pain and phantoms of luscious memories. With the last sputtering light of the fire I again turn to the enigma of the moon. As the last embers of the fire dance into the wind I wish her only the best.

I leap into the cavorting embers, I leap into the velvet night, leap into the pounding surf and I escape the cold world. I pray that the arms of oblivion will enfold me.

I pray that there are no dreams in hell....

...Because I loved her so much.

LOVE errrr...........OR True Love.

2008-05-29T07:03:00.003-05:00

I made among my yuwie Blogs two posts first Simple Logic and then Pure Logic via respective analytical reasoning of my own I think of some popular phenomenon analytically despite fact that such of phenomenae already have had A generalised, popularised opinion of masses from times immemorial.At times existing events within history and poetic gestures among others are reasons inscribed for the existing popular opinions,though there is no logically reasoned depth within.

An analytical reasoning sometimes on basis of intellectually propagated philosphic theories that already exist and at other times,a logical sense could be supportive evidence to assess if such of popular phinomenae are as true as existing popular opinion.Such analysis concerns certain important acts and links within each of such phenomenon and some times historic events.
Personally I do not see reason in accepting myths as a true picture merely on basis of existing popular opinion,however popular or strongly supported may be the reflection the myth,picture of which a certain popular opinion depicts .

Love is one such phenomenon which is popularly empahsised as the truest,strongest and an everlasting consistent form of probably the purest soul to soul activity concerning two humans Directly or indirectly.

LOVE

Yes love is a great phenomenon to be involved in and during span of time it is true to its existing popular definition its The greatest Pleasure any human can feel.Now for a start let us consider few popular statements or a sort of advisory gesture to single lovers.

{{******** Love isn't about becoming somebody else's perfect person.It is about finding someone who helps you become the best person you can be. Heartbreaks last as long as you want and cut as deep as you allow them to go. The challenge is not how to survive heartbreaks but to learn from them.

How to be in love: Fall but don't stumble,be consistent but not too persistent, share and never be unfair, understand and try not to demand, and get hurt but never keep the pain.

"Love is like a butterfly.The more you chase it, the more it eludes you. But if you just let it fly, it will come to you when you least expect it. Love can make you happy but often it hurts, but love's only special when you give it to someone who is really worth it. So take your time and choose the best".Matter of fact ; all these statements seem to be so unrealistic *********}}

Well most lovers experience this.This suggests :The Love that is spelt as consistent is infact too brittle and unsure even in process of making and too delicate a thing to handleso much so that some with a logical thought process have opined love as a foolish notion.

I came across my young friend Usman who lives in India.He had fallen in love with a girl that happened to visit one of his neighbours.She left after few days and though he had no opportunity to talk to her he maintained he loved her.Later it was learnt she is married and settled in Germany.He maintained he loved her only and will never ever love any other and hence never marry coz' she is already married.He being only brother of three younger sisters his parents felt the need to marry him but he wouldnt budge coz' of his love for that girl ; simply because his mind was so preoccupied with popular emphasis on One True Love Myth and legendary love stories. On top of that he was a great singer of popular romantic hindi songs so too welversed in Urdu Shayri which depicts mostly the everlasting desire of an earstwhile male for love of his counterpart female whom the male referred within shayri could never possess as a lover or even as a companion.

I befriended Usman and for few days enjoyed his Ruhaani Voice enthusing him to sing songs of Legendry Rafi. By the by I started reasoning with him about the harm that his futile love notion would do in delaying marriages of his younger sisters. I used all my logical reasoning and ultimately in a weeks time I convinced him.Few days later he invited me to his house and I recieved blessings of the choiciest nature from his mother.Usman is now married to Salima a truely beautyful girl.

I have come across three similar cases which I felt a concern about,solved successfully and I feel good about same.

Love can happen more than once and why not.The emphasis that true love happens only once is completely defeated considering scores of divorces that result after many a Love Marriage.People fall in love again and remarry again.

The Phenomenon 'Love happens JUST once' sounds prophetic but is practically UNDONE
Now let us see what legendary love stories have to tell.

"True Love stories": Romeo-Juliet, Laila-majnu, Heer-Ranjha, Sohni Mahiwal, many a story in many a region all over the world.Come to think of the theme within each of these stories has to offer.What we see is ;yes inseparable True Love indeed .But at what cost as depicted even in each story.What is the end product in each of these love stories. It is only The End .So to say True lovers dont part but DEATH does them IN.

As a similii we can think of 'THE SUN' and all planets going around THE SUN.They All Love him;Never leave him yet can Never Ever meet him. If they meet him it will only be The End like The End of lovers in Legendry love stories.

A famous poets' poem on True Love suggest:-- Time is a tanet that harms everything charming and beautyful;yet time can not harm true love He goes on to say, 'LOVE doesnt Change with changing times , LOVE doesnt alter when it Alteration finds'.Being Poetic is again a State of mind at a given Moment.Sorry I dont see LOVE as realistic as is opined on.

A sad thing about life is when you meet someone and fall in love, usually it turns only to find out in the end that it was never meant to be and that you have wasted years on one who wasn't worth it. If he isn't worth it now he's not going to be worth it a year or 10 years from now.

Friends I wish to sum up. If you see the Love that you sought is an unrealistic notion,the moment you realise this please Erase this notion from your mind and look for your Mr Right or Miss Right else where.

2008-05-27T20:52:00.004-05:00

Spirit~~~

Spirit is in a state of grace forever.
Your reality is only spirit.
Therefore you are in the state of grace forever.
Spirit makes use of the mind
as means to find it's Self-expression.
And the mind which serves the spirit
is at peace and filled with joy...
Yet mind can also see itself
divorced from spirit,
and perceive itself within a body
it confuses with itself.
Without it's function
then it has no peace,
and happiness is alien to it's thoughts.
Your mind can be possessed by illusions.
but the spirit is eternally free.

Gifts From A Course In Miracles
foreword by Marianne Williamson
Copyright...1995 - by Frances Vaughan and Rogers Walsh

Forever

2008-05-27T10:23:00.003-05:00

If we all lived forever,
death would mean more,
and life would mean less.

If we all lived forever,
almost everyone alive today
would never have been born.

If we all lived forever,
there would be no food shortages or pestilence.

If we all lived forever,
Jesus and Marx would have
both been laughed at,
and we would still be laughing.

If we all lived forever,
there would be only be a few laws
and no police.

If we all lived forever,
and almost everybody would know everything,
and those who didn’t would be
regarded as wise indeed.

If we all lived forever,
Heaven and Hell would actually be realities;
there would still be a mythical God
presiding over them;
and the Church would still be running
the concessions, turning out comedians,
and generally regarded as part of the Theater.

If we all lived forever,
the family unit would still be in tact,
and the family of man
would have the same tree.

If we all lived forever,
the list of wars would have ended
well before the Peloponnesian.

If we all lived forever,
love our fellow man would be
something done everyday,
instead of a saying;
and Paradise would be set in concrete,
instead of our imagination.

And if we all lived forever,
I might be called Adam,
and you might be called Eve;
and everything we did in the way of love
would, in fact, be counted as perfect;
for such is the depth and dimension
of a passion and a feeling
that will outlast everything,
including forever.

Copyright © 2008 RICHARD DAVID KENNEDY: Love & Similar States Of Insanity. All rights reserved under international copyright conventions. No part of the contents of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written consent of the author.

2008-05-25T10:34:00.006-05:00

THE ENCUENTRO, Richard Kennedy’s latest novel, is a bona fide
masterpiece...
The Encuentro isn’t just another novel. A fairy tale in novel form– told as a farce, presented like a play, and executed like a movie, it is indeed “novel” in every way. It is very much as advertised: “A Children’s Story For Adults” – very mature adults; it is also Kennedy as his innovated best– “pulling out all the stops,” and turning the medium right on it’s head to make a point, which is his vehicular and artistically stylized expression of his treatise- Psychophysics: The Point Of Everything. So, while the subject matter is bawdy, the humor outrageous and the wit nonpareil, it is, to be sure, a deeply profound exposition of the nature and meaning of life at the end of the day.
Set in the mythical kingdom of Char Ming, presumably sometime in the Middle Ages– Kennedy cares little about time, as we generally think of it; indeed, “time” is part of his beautifully rendered thesis– it is a raucous, ribald tale that reads like Shakespeare, thinks like Chaucer and bites like Swift; for Kennedy unabashedly focuses on humanity’s universal preoccupation on sex to lead us hilariously, often shockingly, down what we almost have to belief will be an even more outrageous and sidesplitting “climax” that turns out to be anything but. Be prepared to be stunned; be prepared to be “truly” enchanted, literally swept off your feet and transported, as the popular phrase, goes: "Where no man has gone before"- only Kennedy takes you BEYOND! Be prepared to finally see the “point” – the alpha and the omega, the end and the beginning of EVERYTHING!
This, what he calls (a) “fairy,” is, as he has stated, “probably my best symphony yet,” and destined to be an instant classic. We couldn’t agree more!...Where else will you find a novel’s author portraying himself in his own book as a “movie director”? The Encuentro is an absolute must read.

Hardcover & Paperback: Two Volumes;

816 pages

Publisher: Lulu Publishing (April 2008)

Language: English

The Encuentro Book One (ID #2399465)

The Encuentro Book Two (ID #2399786)

Richard David Kennedy a novelist, poet, philosopher and littérateur. His works include the anthology, House Of December, originally published in 1972, and his novels: Simon, The Dunning Of Harley Nesbit, and The Trip. His newest volume of verse, Love & Similar States Of Insanity, has just been released, along with his epic poem, Samsson. In addition, he is also compiling a volume of essays, Broken Sparrows And Wild Duct Tape, and finalizing on philosophical treatise, Psychophysics: The Point Of Everything. To complete the “cycle,” he will be offering up a collection of short stories: Guilt, By Association. An honors graduate of the University of Houston, where he received the prestigious Houston Psychological Association’s Award For Excellence In Psychology upon graduation, he has been a resident of the DFW Area most of his life.

How does one open a Fairy, especially one that defies explanation; one that is by turns a novella, a dramatique, and a script de la flick? One merely calls it a commedia dell'arte and simply begins...

The Set And Hook

"There was this man...".

POETRY IN MOTION

2008-05-22T14:22:00.006-05:00

Sprightly eyes
Vivacious face
exuberant expression
Jhalak chandni

Friendly warmth
heavenly grace
Effusive sweetness
Chanchal Titli

Soothing poise
Flowery smile
Roselike fragrance
Basanti-Basanti .

An heavenly
Delightful expression

{{ Jhalak chandni = An enlightening moonlight
Chanchal titli = Ecstatic state of a charming butterfly
Basanti = Reference to a lady emanating soothing
coolness of a spring season }}

Book signing for Tamara Wilhite THIS Saturday

2008-05-15T22:03:00.002-05:00

Science fiction book signing! I will be signing BOTH “Humanity’s Edge” and “Sirat”

When:
Saturday May 17, 2008
at 2:00 PM to 4:00 PM

Where:
Lone Star Books and Comics
931 Melbourne Rd.
Hurst, Texas 76053

And just out for horror lovers: "The Dead City Chronicles" now on lulu.com AND amazon.com

Co-written by Tamara Wilhite and David Byron of NVH Horror

Life after the death of the world has been with us since vampires and George Romero. A fresh and ironically funny look at how several survivors (if you want to call them that) survive the end of the world as we know it

From LULU!
"The Dead City Chronicles" - available for PDF download
http://www. lulu. com/content/2488055

From Amazon. com!
"The Dead City Chronicles" - available for Amazon Kindle
http://www. amazon. com/The-Dead-City-Chronicles/dp/B00192IDUM/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1210889184&sr=8-1

Just Released...

2008-05-15T12:04:00.007-05:00

The following works are now available for your reading pleasure...

Love & Similar States Of Insanity
In his own provocative, inimitable style, Kennedy turns his attention to the convention of verse again for the first time in over three decades. Regarding no subject as inviolable, he offers up Cogitations Of Another Kind, as he thoughtfully explores and expounds on the universal themes of life and love, death and immortality, God and religion and being "alive,” with particular emphasis on the notion of “sanity.” More often than not, he chooses to take the middle ground on certain subjects, preferring instead to make his reader “think” as opposed to alienate or antagonize. But this is not always the case, and where he takes a stand, there can be no doubt where his sentiments lie. This extraordinary work includes such gems as “Should It Be So,” “I Have Seen,” and his masterful satirical epic, “Samsson.” Kennedy runs deep, but if you can keep up with him, you are certain to walk away from “the experience” the better for it. Few others will speak to you in such an original voice; almost none will have a perspective as unique as his. Kennedy today is tomorrow’s mainstream.

Miscellany: Minor Major Works
These are two “wild stallions” that will run freely across the plains of your literary imagination. They couldn’t be more different; they couldn’t be more alike, in that they are both from the mind of Richard David Kennedy.

SAMSSON: Kennedy's masterful satirical epic that parodies the man, God and religion theme in his own incomparable fashion.

THE TRIP: “...What a fantastic story!...An intricately orchestrated trip of surreal fantasy and humor."

The Encuentro, Volumes One And Two
The Encuentro isn’t just another novel. A fairy tale in novel form– told as a farce, presented like a play, and executed like a movie, it is indeed “novel” in every way. It is very much as advertised: “A Children’s Story For Adults” – very mature adults; it is also Kennedy as his innovated best– “pulling out all the stops,” and turning the medium right on it’s head to make a point, which is his vehicular and artistically stylized expression of his treatise- Psychophysics: The Point Of Everything. So, while the subject matter is bawdy, the humor outrageous and the wit nonpareil, it is, to be sure, a deeply profound exposition of the nature and meaning of life at the end of the day. It is, as he has stated, “probably (my) best symphony yet,” and destined to be an instant classic. Where else will you find a novel’s author portraying himself in his own book as a “movie director”? The Encuentro is a must read.

“Literature for the discerning reader.”

Copyright © 2008 RICHARD DAVID KENNEDY: Love & Similar States Of Insanity, Miscellany, The Encuentro. All rights reserved under international copyright conventions. No part of the contents of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written consent of the author.

www.lulu.com/rdk

Morning Sun'

2008-05-13T09:11:00.001-05:00

Morning Sun'

Staff stands, radiating light outwards from centre to every point'
Arms legs' folding coiling of blues' greens and yellows'
Coils from the ground caress gently as sparkled living waters upwards' reflecting light' each self' outward again'
Atoms of oxygen, hydrogen' methane and nitrogen' do a merry dance to coil, collide to emulse' through singing of golden rays'
Tree of many branches' dances in the sunlight' chuckling' little birds strip her bark for nest'
Ancient view of self looking at all, as is, light dancing' as glistened raindrops' coils connected with diamonds of pink an blue''
To gaze is the only way' for scrutiny makes for every pixel to dissolve downwards of the spiral of life'
Looking outward' sitting within, branched of a style' at a country gate' to make of decisions to cross'
This mighty river of emotion flowing' to make the curve of current turning, an see grasses green ' bushes leaves a quiver of the glorious sunlight'
Exchanging language'
God'
As tiny birds a titter'
flitting of brown feathered coat, black head Sparrow' casts leaf molt to the sky'
As blackbird sits a bow a tree' singing sweetly' for his lady'
and the radiant morning Sun'~

The little Mexican stands with straw hat upon his head' smiling bronzen face' golden buttoned jacket of blue swade'
Arms' legs' twisting' coiling' guitar in his hand' flying across' running a blister hot burning dessert'
Laughing, singing, dancing, playing as he goes' to the joy of dancing freely living' within this glorious garden'
To stand the Tree' of many branches emotions' smiling' chuckling, giggling, like a new born spring stream'
Bubbling and dashing, over wet sun glistened boulders' evenly laying within the pools, of ones mind's' reflections'
Heart a Deer at rutt' body rolling dales of grassy glades' to mountain tops to Sea' this Ocean of awe and blissfulness'
That sparkles within the coil of life'~ through cloudless skies, until morning sunlight tinkles'
"Hello" once again'~

Copyright 2008 Paul Brookshaw

Treasure ~ Golden sunlight'

2008-05-13T08:52:00.001-05:00

ayaeeea' I can see for a million miles in all directions, birds fly, parots, cicadas' sing' like tiny leaves fluttering in a gentle breeze'

My atom snapped my molecule melded with the matrix of the sun giver of light life conciousness and more'

Dance and sing to be' all within the fold brothers and sisters, with effervecent bubbles of life'
Water bubles over little brown pebbles and everything is alive'
The funnel the top of my head filling with the universe of love'
She walked me all over, revolving me through spiraled halls of excuisite beauty, but my ugliness kept smashing vision so I drunk again'
Lay down with my staff and medicine bag and left here behind'
Me' as a million pieces of irridecent light slowly coiling around the edge of a very peaceful curve' all connected as fine railway lines laddered, fine triangles, all of me' conciousness above and through'
Nothing but love matters'
Becoming pink constant coiling through up and over, holding at sumit of emotion, to twist coil and swoop low like eagle and off again' spiriling in a high hall matrix, triangles curves like peackock feather' everything fluttering and talking, shimmering and melding through ripples as billions of guitar strings, connected across my will thought being able to pluck at one and watch, stunned as everything around respondes in the most astounding undescribable shimmering symetry of dance light coils' closing the gap of conciousness and light, holding like the straight flight of arrow' molecule popping coliding melding to utter it's expression, everything wild and shimmered as if chattering with glee' above, a throne of golden irridecent water light flowing from a mountain, dropin through the centre of my head, running through me upon the land, the exchange equal like a massive funnel from sky to earth walking' for many tiny birds/spirits circle to dance in tiny vortex flight, this great collum of force driven as smoke whirlking in a gentle vortex of diamond fishnet stocking matrix form, rippling through a pure white star fire existence' always green blue starlight golden silver as water twinkles in the star strewn moonlight silver sky, then down through from white purle blue green red, twisting through shimmering vaults of memorie' everything connected' thought evolving through tiny ripples as butteflyes, emotion attached to fill, a vibrating existence with endless desire of lifes water flowing, by willow trees bending, winding it's way to' up and off, evolving carosel riding the ripples of my own existence' point Eagles beak in my face to a point my eyes his eyes my body his body connected through feather to coils of trembling vibrating singing strands of life' like straight feathers bristtles connecting, in all color imaginable evolving to saphire white, de-evolving to blue greens and reds. Sound intrudes an makes its own dance upon the great hall of moving gentle r4oller coaster tracks, a crystal palace of tiny jewels flash by dancing, moving as if struck by the sound, never touching the strands of life but weaving through and exchanging there song, like autum leaves fluttering in a light breeze, golden red veined with life' flying soaring, bright sun of creations beauty holding and controling all with radiant tenticles connected to up through the matrix of my mind's thousands of tenticles connected back in the matrix of the fold, sun light energy holding the heart to the peace of the moment her subtle energies shimering and making the form of mind of, to live in, through light exchange reflections and prisms of thought move emotion dancing and singing the song of light'
skipping with every slight breeze, like a butterfly from flower to flower, smelling an eating of desire' of choice to see and savour' the little butterfly sings and dances in the breeze across green, red petaled meadows, orchards, oak doors open upon my heart, to the treasures of the gift' of oh' so being alive' like a great chest opening for the first time my heart snakes off the dust, cracking open to the light radiance of love within, no questions, all just pure of warm water flowing the color of blood red golden crystal blue saphire light reflected, off dark pools of deep water' that holds me in the royal cloak of' my body' small and fragile, in comparison to this mighty cathedral' smelling sweet growing and eating of bunches of fruits' glee twinkles on the pools distant reflections' winds' spirit flyes' high within' seeing as eagle, to travel lofty'see far' site of spirit' roll around the jewelry of life'

Treasure ~ Golden sunlight'

Copyright 2008 Paul Brookshaw

A coat of many colours'~

2008-05-13T08:23:00.001-05:00

A coat of many colours~

So as not to wander through a wilderness' all too full of sand, scorpions' rocks' searing heat' snakes of false passion's pain'
Plants' found upon this desolate path' to partake of for light in darkness'
To give for too succor as food' also a coat of many colours,
A staff to lean upon and wield, a head as an orb of creation,
A heart flowing like a minnow flashed spring stream' over wet sun shard-ed dappled brown pebbles'

A psychic cathedral full of vibrant azure fish as thoughts do flitter of sunny shoals do flow across' into lowly sandy bays'
In Oceans flow' of ebb to tide' as rollers, white horse upon the beach' of ones mind's eye expanding' to fill as the rising of a silver moon'
To cast tree and mountain thundercloud shadows upon ones sight exploding super nova as a star'
A spirit like a Roe buck deer, bounding lofty mountains high, dashing grassy dales in deeps of folds of grassland valleys, astrewn of white n' yellow daisies'
To smile at the brightness of it all'

Upholding of spirit great evergreens, through mountains full of snow' as avalanches of emotion's movements' create sparkles to the sky'
Of Mountain glades to sea'
within ones mind's eye'
Creation'~
So rutting in the mud of evolutions coil' to set a forth around the Tree of life' to pose and paint a picture in worded prose'
Of passions raging volcanic eruptions' with larva fires of a colossal sun' set within ones temple forehead'
The planet for ones eyes' to prepare a table before' of fruits and treasures of truths' as spears and swords as arrows do fly'
They do not lie' as deads amongst the folds' of humus' to return as naught' as flying brisky sheep fluffy white grey clouds'
Across an endless' tranquil sky' a sitting upon a stumped tree, a fallen of winter's winds' as stool'
to smoke and ponder'
A dazzling of mind and sight' of as heart's emotions' flittered autumn leaves' upon the dew bespeckled mulsh' of to see my body' as to lay upon the ground'
Of for why forever' such very much beauty' so clearly seen of all around without disguise'~ so filled with bliss'~ as if to blind'
Ones so tiny as of an Owlet's downy feather' gently fluttering to a leafen ground'
Of abounding gentle peacefulness'

As spring' lights and shines the sky'
Of herb pocking through to show of green leaves to grow'
Of flowers to see as a coat of many colours to cover the land' as birds a many a settle from flight'
To sit and ponder of this wonder' of all this life has given to ones hand'
To stand steadfast upon this rock'
Of to see the magnificent glory of creation's beauty'
that doth abound' like a mighty river flowing within ones heart'
Oh what joy to bliss of peaceful gentleness'

A coat of many colours'~

Copyright 2008 Paul Brookshaw

Book signings for Tamara Wilhite this month!

2008-05-09T19:00:00.004-05:00

TAMARA WILHITE has TWO upcoming book signings this May in the Dallas-Fort Worth area. She will have both her new novel "Sirat: Through the Fires of Hell" and her anthology "Humanity's Edge".

When:
Saturday May 10, 2008
at 2:00 PM to 4:00 PM

Where:
Connections Bookstore
2428 Forest Park Blvd.
Fort Worth, Texas 76110

When:
Saturday May 17, 2008
at 2:00 PM to 4:00 PM

Where:
Lone Star Books and Comics
931 Melbourne Rd.
Hurst, Texas 76053

If you can't make it and want to:

Order signed copies directly from the author
Do an interview
Discuss fundraising book sales

You can reach the author, Tamara Wilhite, at sirat@wilhite.homeip.net

A Mind Not Her Own

2008-05-09T07:57:00.004-05:00

Richard kindly said his entry, 'Simon', was inspired by my previously posted 'Fresh Cut Grass'. In reading 'Simon', the post below came to mind.

Grey hair, loosly pinned up; tired eyes that have seen much in the past 83 years. A face worn by weather, worry and time. Frailty in these last seasons of her life, Anna looks out the third floor window apartmant house where she has been livng with her son for the past year and a half. In her room, photographs on the walls of the life and times she lived take her back through the years, bringing smiles of happy times shared with sadness during the sorrowful ones. As she sits in the chair her Henry had made some 50 or so years ago, she wonders if today is the day he will come to visit.

Though Henry has been gone over 20 years now, Anna's mind is hers only small bits of the time. The photographs only show him as young or middle aged and happy, and that is how her memories still see him. She can't realize that yesterday she also thought he'd come by yet did not. She can't realize that Alex is her son and confuses him with Henry's father. She can't realize the age she truly is.

In a moment of clarity that comes and goes with Alzheimers, as evening sets and she looks in the mirror, Anna sees who she is right now; knows her Henry is gone; knows where she is. Disbelief adorns her aged face like a mist hovering the ground on a cool spring morning....and it's gone.

She won't recall those moments, but they will happen again and again until her time here is over. If Alex could be present just once he could tell his mother he loves her and know that she understood the words and meaning.

Her mind is not her own but for brief moments.

SIMON

2008-05-07T15:39:00.003-05:00

Inspired by Bette’s “Fresh Cut Grass”...

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE:

There was something soothing about the sound of rattling dishes and pots and pans being clanged in the hollows of the kitchen; something soothing about the muffled crowd noises and the sound of whistles blowing on the television; crickets chirping by the porch and lawns being mowed in the not so far off distance; passing cars in the street and the warm, friendly conversation underpinning it all. There was something comforting about the smell of the fresh-cut grass that wafted through the air- its sweetness intermingling with the pungent aroma of mincemeat pie, left over turkey, fresh home-made cranberry sauce and those good old peanut butter cookies; something reassuring about the wind-borne harvest of brightly-colored leaves that spiraled from the trees in fitful gusts of wind- invisible little kingdoms that came and went, rolling the leaves up ahead of them, like breakers on a beach or spinning them off in whirling-dervish eddies; something disarming about the single-minded squirrels that cross-crossed the yard and foraged the rooftops, combing the gutters for pecans and other stores for the winter months ahead. And there was something dulcet about the squabbling, squabbling blue jays; something alluring about the crispness of the air, the blueness of the sky, and the puffy white clouds- headed nowhere in a hurry; something seductive about the afternoon sun and the postcard sheen it sprayed on everything like a laminate.

Copyright © 1985, 2008 by Richard D. Kennedy

* All rights reserved under international copyright conventions. No part of the contents of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written consent of the author.

New anthology - Tamara Wilhite contributor and editor

2008-05-06T16:16:00.002-05:00

The Dead City Chronicles by David Byron and Tamara Wilhite, now available via www.lulu.com
http://www.lulu.com/content/2488055

Life after the death of the world has been with us since vampires and George Romero. A fresh and ironically funny look at how several survivors survive the end of the world as we know it.
"Mutant Moon", where the road to Purgatory, Texas may lead to a Heaven worse than the hell of the living dead. By David Byron and Tamara Wilhite
"False Hope", when greater horrors may arise from the ashes in the form of a false hope. By Tamara Wilhite.
"Sniper", where the American dream has mutated along with the zombie plague. By David Byron.

where the sky is bright

2008-05-05T19:36:00.003-05:00

I feel you move to the dark side of time–
if only I could keep you here in the light.
I want to turn your pain to happiness
and feel your soul move with mine.
As time rewinds, I think of you
moving forward in our dreams,
wanting only you and me
to be as one simple and free;
let the dark move on...
and the light will come;
I will always be here;
just look for me–
I am where the sky is bright...

Fresh Cut Grass

2008-05-04T17:10:00.003-05:00

Ever notice how much better you seem to feel when you catch the scent of fresh cut grass? I was feeling pretty good already and then my husband cut the grass, so I took myself and a cup of coffee out on the side porch so I could really take it in. My day went even better afterwards.

And now, sitting here at my laptop in the livingroom, with the windows and door open, I just caught the scent of fresh cut grass again. Our neighbor is mowing his lawn and I felt a smile come to my face because of it.

Amazing, isn't it? A scent can make you feel better for no other reason than it's there. I remember when my gramma died, I was in mom's livingroom when all of us there noticed a strong Avon odor. Gramma always over-wore Avon perfumes. For you to understand why we'd smell Avon in mom's livingroom you should know that the house was one grampa built for he and gramma to raise their family in. I took it as gramma wanting to tell us goodbye herself, which did make me feel better. We never smelled it again after that night.

I hope you have your own feel good smells, those that put a smile on your face and a good feeling all over. Mine, on days like this, is fresh cut grass.

How to get the “Search Inside” option set up on Amazon.com

2008-05-03T13:12:00.005-05:00

How to get the “Search Inside” option set up on Amazon.com

Instructions from Tamara Wilhite

NOTE: The Kindle edition of this article includes detailed graphics for these same instructions.

http://www.amazon.com/Amazon-Search-Inside-Program-Idiots/dp/B0018KICII/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1209838553&sr=8-1

Requirements:

The book is listed on amazon.com for sale
The person requesting the “Search Inside” option has the legal rights and copyright to the book – i.e. the author OR the publisher.

NOTE: If you’re the author, even if you have the PDF or word document version of your book, the publisher may retain the digital rights. Check your contract or check with your publisher.

How to do it:

1. Go to your book’s listing on Amazon.com. Click on the “Publisher: learn how customers can search inside this book”. From the Publishers and Authors: Join our Search Inside!™ Program website, click on the “Sign up now” link on the first line. You will have to do this even if you have uploaded prior books via the “Search Inside Program”.

2. Fill out the Search Inside! Publisher Sign-up webpage.

3. Don’t forget to read the “Participation Agreement” AND click on the check box that you’ve read it. Click on the “Yes” check box that you have rights to the work.

4. Fill in all the fields.

5. At the bottom, click on the “Submit” button.

6. You will be brought to the confirmation screen. Verify the information before selecting the “Sign Up for Search Inside” button.

7. If Amazon.com agrees to the search inside submission (and they almost certainly will, if you have the rights to the work), they’ll want you to fill out forms, either faxed or mailed back. They’ll also need a PDF file of the book to tie to the “Search Inside” option.

8. The next page describes different methods for submitting the book to be scanned / uploaded to the “Search Inside” program.

What do you get for all of this work? This is an example of my book “Humanity’s Edge”. The “Search Inside” option is available from the cover graphic.

Users gain the ability to view your internal pages, as if flipping through a book on the book store shelf. The uploaded pages also add the content to the key word index on which users may search for different books. This increases the odds of key word hits that are of phrases not included in the title, author name, or synopsis.

About the author:

Tamara Wilhite is the author of “Humanity’s Edge”, Sirat: Through the Fires of Hell”, and “SETI in Reverse”; all are available through www.amazon.com. She is also an engineer, the “IE in IT” blogger for the Institute of Industrial Engineers, and a professional technical writer.

For more tips on marketing, writing, and publishing, read more by Tamara Wilhite at:

Amazon Kindle Publishing for Idiots by Tamara Wilhite, Amazon Kindle Edition

http://www.amazon.com/Amazon-Kindle-Publishing-for-Idiots/dp/B0013I93Z6/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1209405595&sr=8-1

Marketing Your Writing, an Amazon Short
by Eric Enck And Tamara Wilhite

http://www.amazon.com/Marketing-Your-Writing/dp/B0013AKMHC/ref=sr_1_4?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1203282442&sr=1-4

2008-05-03T06:04:00.003-05:00

MAR

I wish you were here, lying naked at my side;
as close as close- soul to soul;
putting my pain on parole and death-defying time.
I wish you were here, wherein entwined
two become the one in love,
and a song comes to mind that has no music or words,
because it is the because,
and there is no better rhyme
than when your eyes enter mine
and we both know we can better be
for having been two plus love.

Copyright © 2008 RICHARD DAVID KENNEDY: Love & Similar States Of Insanity. All rights reserved under international copyright conventions. No part of the contents of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written consent of the author.

2008-05-01T20:08:00.005-05:00

The Retreat

Kiss me.
I want to suck the breath out of your lungs
and crush your hips under mine;
I want to be so close
I can actually see myself
through your eyes
and not only be in lust,
but in love with what I see,
and know that we have
burned a pied a terre in time,
wherein only the two of us are welcome.

richard david kennedy

LONESOME THOUGHTS

2008-04-28T17:23:00.002-05:00

Great men left marks on soil they stepped,

None does recognise the steadfast marks.

Merchandisers disguised many A goody each.

Each merchant a brand ; a brand too many.

Brand owners compete fielding branded pawns

Ignorants thus fielded , fight vigrous--cut throat

Knoweth not branded ; nor the brand bosses do

Children them are all , of the unbranded 'ONE'

Still

2008-04-19T14:21:00.002-05:00

I feel as though you are still here, but that is not true. How can it be that fate could be so cruel as to rip you away from me and our life together?

Still..............

I feel you in the twilight, the brush of your skin on mine, that makes my sleeping breath catch.
I feel the warmth of your breath on my neck, a gentle kiss upon my lips.
I feel your presence caressing my soul as you hold me in your arms.
How can this be, my slumbering mind wonders.....
I feel your body close to mine, ablaze with fire born from desire.
I feel my body and soul respond to the memory of us, how we were, how we loved
I am not capable of resistance to this feeling as your presence rushes my body to ecstacy
My mind screams out as my body surrenders itself to you.......................still.

Katha Fletcher-Willhoite June 16, 2007

Raven's Reprieve

2008-04-14T00:46:00.013-05:00

Walking slowly towards the beach, Thundering Woman noted how large, rounded stones gradually gave way to smooth sand. The waves came skittering towards her, washing her feet with their salty essence. In the wind above, the grey clouds were slowly giving way to the soft glow of rosy, golden dawn. Stooping to touch the sand, her rough fingers caressed the glistening grains, where tIny shells dotted a broken shell line. A long shadow of her great rounded, body danced across the white and grey stones of the beach.

As Thundering Woman picked a few magical, glowing shells, she put them into a small leather pouch hanging from her waist. Little bells on the fringe jingled with her movements. A few moments later small pieces of glistening mica found their way from her hands into her bag, which she patted gently. These would be to make special charms. The wind was blowing colder against her skin and strands of hair escaped the untidy braids and fluttered like snakes around her head. Her dark eyes twinkled in a rounded face.

Across the silvery blue waters the rocky mounds of earth rose with humps like the sea serpent, straight up with no visible beach. Ochre against the blue-grey of sky, they seemed to glow in the salmon color of dawn. The green of the cedar and hemlock trees were like a spiky headdress upon its' spine. It was not hard to imagine, with the power of waves, this beast could gobble a whole canoe of fishermen.

The morning sun, filtered through wispy haze, and had quickly moved higher into the sky. Swiftly moving, black clouds often dimmed the glow of warmth and were running quickly towards the north. From the nearby jumble of tangled driftwood tree roots a greywolf moved slowly. Thundering Woman's eyes met the gaze of the wolf briefly, and followed his eyes to the edge of the nearby trees. A doe and fawn stood in the patchwork of light and dark of greens.

Suddenly the call of a raven pierced the air, as he chased a sea gull. Back and forth, across the sky they flew, the raven calling "halt" with his raspy voice. The startled doe looked up, then bolted into the forest with her child . The wolf blinked, and bounded after his prey.

As the raven grasped the salmon in the gull's beak, they tumbled in the space of air, each bird shrieking at the other. The fish dropped into the waves below. The raven, flapping its great wings, and soared toward the cloud darkened sun. Perhaps the trickster raven had not really wanted the gull's catch, and the fish was most fortunate to escape.

Thundering Woman smiled and nodded her head. She chanted her song as she walked over the rocky beach, the cold wind blowing against against her back.

SACRED GIFT

2008-04-14T00:46:00.010-05:00

The candle flickers, weakly flaming against
the swirling shrouds of misty, murky lies.
Worthy in anger, the message seeks to prove the case.
Right or wrong is not the resolution sought,
where grey lines dim within
a river of expedient compromise.
Sacred gift, this, Honor and Truth:
The fabric of being is ripped
in momentary lapse;
faith dies.
Waves of rage compound the attributes of power:
Exploding shards of anger, fear, jealousy
shred the soul-flesh.
No avoidance is in abstraction of reality:
An absent face offers no resolution.

--------------------

Explanation: This poem was written in 1996 as a response to a sad betrayal of trust. I am not a very adept 'political' person when it comes to intrigue. My efforts had been very much in support of someone who lied about me to a 'superior' in a role playing game, and in turn that person became angry with me over something very minor and said/did things that really hurt.... It destroyed my character and the fun of the game. Strange how some literature is born and how some people will do anything to find favor in the eyes of those they deem in charge.

Marks On This World

2008-04-09T13:41:00.000-05:00

The Day We're Born We Start To Die: It's what you do in between your begining and your end that others will remember. There are some people who are born to greatness, it's something automatic about them that without their ever realizing it, their path is predtermined. Fated. Destined. There are others who also have paths laid out for them, but they live lives of mediocracy or in worn and tattered clothes getting their meals from a soup kitchen. Some fall into good things by chance, others work very hard reaching for the American Dream.

It doesn't matter who you are or what your station in life is, no matter what we think, we all leave our mark. We all have things about us worth remembering. We've all touched at least one someone and changed their life in some way. I guess what I am trying to put across is that you don't have to be super rich, a doctor, actor or politician to leave a mark of yourself on this world. You may view yourself as just the average everyday sort and still be a powefull force in someone else's life, without ever realizing it. It can be something you've said or a deed you've done that so alters someones perception about who they are and inspires them to improve upon themselves to a degree that they in turn leave their mark on someone else as being that other person's inspiration. You alone can set in motion a chain of events all the while thinking you're no one special!

I am just an average person, but I know the marks I'll be leaving when my time to part company comes. My children. They are my greatest accomplishments, a gift I was given and bequeath to the world. They can, and I bet they will leave their mark on a multitude of others. They've already left their marks on me just by existing.

Another mark of mine, I share with my husband and that is what love should be. I want my kids to not view it as what my first marriage was, but what this marriage is: friendship; love; trust. It's not something we 'work' at, it just is. Easy and uncomplicated.

Maybe I have, or maybe I haven't left my mark on others but I'd like to think I have in some small way. Others have left their mark on me by way of helping me when I wouldn't even admit to myself that I needed it; inspiring me in some way; or just being there in friendship. Even the bad marks can help you if you let them, and I've had a few of those as well.

So, although I'm just a regular person living a regular life, I will be remembered. Not by the world at large and I am more than fine with that, but by those that mean the most to me and hopefully a few I've touched along the way.

"Sirat: Through the Fires of Hell" - 30% off on Amazon

2008-04-09T10:40:00.002-05:00

"Sirat: Through the Fires of Hell" by Tamara Wilhite is currently 30% off on Amazon
http://www.amazon.com/Sirat-Through-Fires-Tamara-Wilhite/dp/0979988438/ref=pd_bbs_sr_2?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1207755701&sr=8-2

A Love Letter

2008-04-08T10:59:00.002-05:00

I wasn't looking, but I found you. We were both involved with other people when we first met and it was like fate stepped in on our behalf and had them leave us. Neither you or I could understand why they decided to let us go, but as I look back on it now I am so happy they did. Sure, it hurt at first and then it was as if they were mere stepping stones to our finding eachother.

Somehow I think I must have known you'd be the one my heart needed because for the first time, I was afraid of how I felt. You had asked if you could come up the following weekend and without hesitation I had agreed: the kids would be at their dads and I really wanted to find where this was going. While waiting for you, something happened that never had with anyone else: I paced the floor; was very nervous; wondered why you would drive 7 hours just to see me; questioned what the heck was happening to me and demanded from myself why I agreed to this. Shortly before you arrived, near midnight, it dawned on me that for the first time in my life, I was actually in love. That imaginary, faceless person that I saw in my mind all of my life as my perfect match now held the image of you. It totally scared me!

There you are, knocking on my door and I think I did a pretty great job of hiding how I felt. I needed more time to digest this new set of feelings. Sitting on the sofa watching television as we held hands and talked about things, something else started to happen. All the walls of self-defense that had built up during my previous marriage and even earlier datng experiences started to crumble. That scared me even more as they were my security blanket against those that would hurt me. It's as if my inner self knew you, knew that I was finally safe after all the years I believed I didn't think I would be.

I have had a happy life with you. For the past 12 years I have known that I am loved. Not just by anyone, but by the only one that could. I have known a peace that I'd only read about in dime store novels. I've never doubted your love for me, never had a moment where I thought you would be just like all the others and cheat on me. I've only ever felt at home with you, even now when time has brought us to this point of where although we love eachother very much, we rarely sit together on the sofa holding hands. I know you will forever be there for me as I will be for you no matter what.

I love you. Three words that without that certain feeling one gets when they say them, are just three words strung together. We never end a phone call without saying them, we never leave eachothers company without saying them and topping off with a little kiss. I still get goose bumps each time. Sometimes, you pop into my mind and I can't believe how fortunate I am to have this life with you. Not that we have great wealth or possessions, we have something not many have no matter how hard they search for it: Being given the true gift of love by that one person we know could never, would never hurt us; knowing we are eachother's reward for having made it through past realtionships that should have left us cold towards the thought of ever being close enough to someone else to allow for pain.

I know I would be alone without having found you. I know I would not have ever known this happiness without having found you. I know I would have never known what love could be without having found you. I am blessed and rich in all the ways that matter because of you.

Your wife

Stinky and the Magic Carpet

2008-04-07T18:32:00.007-05:00

One day in the spring of 1944,
a fifteen year old boy decided to steal a car.
Was caught and had a choice to make.
War or Prison..
Finds that he is now on a light cruiser,
departing Boston April 16th 1944.
Headed to Panama Canal,
to be in Pearl harbor
May 6th 1944.
The light cruiser put out to sea,
on May 24th 1944.
Left Pearl Harbor in her wake.
They reached Majuro, in the Marshell Island
six days later.
The light cruiser headed for her destiny.
Made her first contact with the enemy,
down a "Betty"bomber on 10 June.
Her guns had drawn there first blood of the war.
It would not be her last...
That boy was in battle @ the age of sixteen!!!
With many battles ahead, typhoons,Kamikaze aircraft from the sky.
At one point this light cruiser spent 27 days out of 30,
Shelled Japanese targets ashore both day and night.
April 1st 1945 the day of the inital assault on
Okinawa, the light cruiser experience her narrowest
escape in the war,
an enemy aircraft hit by the ships gunfire,
crash only 50 feet astern.
Somewhere in the mix of these battles,
that sixteen year old boy caught on fire.
Saved by a fellow shipmate,
smothered the burning ball of fire,
with a blanket.
With limited health care on the ship,
he was wrap in cauz and givin morphine,
for the pain...
Looking like a mummy w/ seven holes exposed.
You can imagine the smell.
My brothers and I were told this story,
one time never to talk of it again.
I hung on to every word.
You see...
The Magic Carpet was the nick name for the
USS Vincennes CL- 64
Stinky was the nick name for my father...
Calby Leroy Haught

INTERNET EXPOSER

2008-04-05T07:36:00.010-05:00

TANHAAI KAA SABAB !

2008-04-01T03:33:00.008-05:00

Sooni sooni see Aankhein

hai namin kutch kutch

Dil khaali saa

bharaa hai kutch kutch

IllaM ye bhi toa hai

na dekhe Gulea Gulshan

hai Tanhaai ka sabab yaaro

ya hai Dukh kutch kutch

jab dekha na Sukh

Sukh ki pehchan kaisee

Ehsaas ab hone laga

yahi toa hai Sukh.

Sukh-Dukh yahi yaaro

kahlo Tanhaai issko !

yahi toa hai yaaro,

'Tanhaai ka Sabab'

****************

^^^^^^^^^^^^^

****************

"Sorrow is the order

Pleasure unfamiliar

both sound Same

in Solitary confine

So is the Notion

Being Lonesome"

One of The Funniest Stories of My Life

2008-04-01T00:20:00.002-05:00

After I graduated High School, I went to Performing Arts School. This was a very big deal in the 80's because "Fame" was so popular. I even went out and bought "leg warmers". I was a pretty shy person and definitely did not have enough self-esteem to get through such a program...I was nervous as hell, and the competition there was mighty fierce. Luckily I made a few friends. One was my roommate, her name was Lisa too, so we were LB and LM, for short. Another friend and classmate was "Joe" from Texas. He drove a Duke's of Hazard car, chewed tobacco, and was funnier than hell. LM was in love with him, so she took every opportunity she could to spend time with him. Joe was very laid back, a total "good ol' boy", he had a mullet and everything. One day LM and I took a trip to the grocery and Joe came with us. Oh, Joe smoked a lot of weed too...so this makes the story even funnier. The three of us were standing in line with our groceries, ready to check out and Joe takes his hands out of his jacket pocket and presents a piece of cotton. (like a cotton ball) He says to me and LM, "watch this" and he sticks the cotton into his right nostril. LM and I are trying desperately not to laugh at him, he shushed us and kept a total straight face. DEAD SERIOUS. We placed our groceries onto the conveyor and Joe steps up to the cashier with this piece of cotton hanging out of his nose and while looking at the lady, he blows (exhales) through his nose and the cotton piece went flying and landed amongst the groceries she had just scanned. LM and I were dying, we could not control ourselves and we collapsed into laughter. Joe did not laugh, he kept a total straight face. He looked into the eyes of the very confused cashier, shook his head and said "will you look at that". He reached over, picked up the cotton ball and stuck it right back into his nose. If at all possible, LM and I became more hysterical than before, we literally fell on the floor laughing. Everyone in the aisles on either side of us were standing on their tiptoes to see what was going on. LM and I continued laughing as Joe picked up the groceries and walked out of the store without as much as a smile and a piece of cotton stuck up his nose.

God, that still makes me laugh.

2008-03-27T23:43:00.002-05:00

Writing the Right Way
NEW AND EXPANDED VERSION

By Tamara Wilhite

Author of "Humanity's Edge", "Geronimo Reduex", “Natural Talent” and “Sirat: Through the Fires of Hell”, all available on amazon.com

As a technical writer and a mother of two (humans), the topic of writing - and how to not starve while doing it - are constantly on my mind. Yet the tricks and tips I’ve garnered can help everyone save money - and not just on the writing and promotions thereof.

E-mail darn near free. If you like to correspond with friends and family, get their e-mail addresses and save on stamps.
Mailing lists via public sites like tropica.com can save the demand on your e-mail account, while allowing you to create and maintain fan lists
Home made cards can mean more than store bought. If store bought, a bigger price tag does not equal a bigger heart. And thank you cards to those who host your book signings and even bought copies of your work do more to build a loyal customer than ten free e-mails.
Your food scale works just as well as a postal scale when you need to weigh letters. (Don't forget to clean it thoroughly first. In my case, I'd never used it before.) This helps you get the weight right for when you aren’t sure how much postage you’ll need. Stamps add up fast.
If your letter is more than one ounce or an odd shape, refer to www.usps.gov and click on “calculate postage” to see how much postage it actually requires. You don’t want to spend more on postage than necessary.
When sending in a complaint letter to get something fixed, I recommend using a written letter. It is more likely to get resolved than an e-mail that may be filtered or deleted.
When you find an absolutely wonderful product, write the company about it on paper. They often send free samples or tons of coupons to thrilled customers. (I don't recommend using this as a fiction venue.)
If that perfect present is available in the store and on line, do a comparison of shipping costs. It may be cheaper to order and send on line than to buy in the store and ship it yourself.
If you do submit articles or stories like I do, search for those places that accept electronic submissions. Inconvenienced electrons are better than wasted stamps and well travelled dead trees.

For more tips on marketing, writing, and publishing, read more by Tamara Wilhite at:

Marketing Your Writing, an Amazon Short
by Eric Enck And Tamara Wilhite

http://www.amazon.com/Marketing-Your-Writing/dp/B0013AKMHC/ref=sr_1_4?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1203282442&sr=1-4

Successful Book Signing Tips by Eric Enck and Tamara Wilhite (Kindle Edition)

http://www.amazon.com/Successful-Book-Signing-Tamara-Wilhite/dp/B0011MSA7G

Tamara Wilhite's novel "Sirat: Through the Fires of Hell" is also available on www.amazon.com.

Cathartic Pizza

2008-03-22T18:27:00.002-05:00

On Friday, December 10, 1999 my husband made some pizza dough and baked 3 pizzas. On December 11, he took some pizza to his parents house and took the kids down with him for a visit. He froze the other two pizzas. When he came home with the kids, my oldest son was very ill, he had a high temperature and was almost listless. I took him to the doctor on Sunday and brought back some anti-biotics, he started feeling better, but my second son fell ill. On Monday I took my baby to the doctor, his temp was 105. The doc gave me anti-biotics, and within a few hours he started feeling better. When I drove home from the doctor's office, I found my husband on the couch. "I can't move" he said. He had the same thing. "C'mon, let's go to the doctor," I told him, "the kids got anti-biotics and they are already better". He told me, "just let me sleep, I'll go when I wake up". He slept for 24 hours, and when he woke it was too late. We rushed him to the hospital, but the doctors could not save him. He died at 11:30pm, Wednesday, December 15, 1999. There were two frozen pizzas in our freezer.

Those pizzas stayed in the freezer for months. I did not have the heart to eat them, although on some level I feel Bobby made the pizzas knowing he would not be here, and it was sort of like his legacy. If that doesn't make sense, I apologize. It does make sense to me.

I have never attempted to make pizza. Bobby came from an Italian family and pizza was their forte. I never felt I could own up to that, so I never tried. My oldest son now wants to be a chef. Yesterday, I felt brave, so we went to the grocery and bought pizza dough and all the fixings. The three of us made homemade pizza. It was delicious. It was symbolically delicious. It is now 2008. It took me over 8 years to make a pizza, but I finally did it, and we ate heartily in Bobby's honor.

Dream In C #

2008-03-22T15:14:00.000-05:00

Bittersweet is the taste.

It lingers on my tongue
long after passion has fled.

I remember the desert;
Sweet water that slaked our thirst,

Then the desert once again.

Love - the sun that fused our souls;
Moon, the cool voice of distance.

Our separateness.

I close my eyes and see
your tender lips whispering

words I cannot hear.

Diaphanous

2008-03-21T11:55:00.002-05:00

Diaphanous is love,
hanging like silky gossamer
threads of the spider
gleaming in the morning sunlight.

Each tenuous strand
hangs quivering,
suspended between earth and heaven.
Sticky trap; strong enough.

August 19,2003

Non-fiction publishing tips

2008-03-20T16:43:00.002-05:00

Advice on getting a non-fiction book published

By Tamara Wilhite

You've spent years working on a non-fiction book. It's finally done. Who can get it onto the press and into print? Here are few tips on what to do and where to go.

Find out if your alma mater has a university press. (Many do.) These academic presses have a preference for publishing academic books, as well as a preference for publishing alumni. Also, being non-profit, they can be cheaper than for-profit publishers if you use them to self-publish.
Join a historical or interest based society of the area in which the book is written. Those in that field will know which publishers are publishing books on the topic, who isn’t, what agents are in that field, and perhaps even link you up with the right contacts.
Wherever possibly, use traditional publishing, NOT self-publishing or cost-shared publishing. Even if the contract says you get nothing unless the book breaks even, opt for traditional publishing. Cost-shared publishing contracts usually mean the author foots most of the bill and the cost shared publisher doesn’t help market or sell the book unless the author ponies up even more money after the book is printed. Self-publishing is more honest; you pay a publisher to print a few hundred or a few thousand copies of your book. However, self-publishing offers no real help on editing or marketing. Cost-shared publishers can help with this, but most charge a lot of money for nominal services.

If you want traditional publishing, look for an established publisher of books in the field that is serious. A good list of serious big publishers in the field can be generated by going to that section in the book store and writing down the publishers listed on the books there. If they printed it and got it in the book store (no small feat, given half a million titles published per year and only 10% make it to book stores), then they’re the ones you want to publish your book.
If you want to self-publish, I recommend lulu.com. They offer low price printing, ship at competitive rates through their website, and don’t advertise for services they don’t do well. (I’ve collaborated on 6 science fiction anthologies that are sold through lulu.com, and they’re the only anthologies except “Humanity’s Edge” that have had any distribution or sales.)
Avoid cost-shared publishing altogether. There may be legitimate cost-shared publishers out there, but I haven’t seen one contract yet that didn’t have an expensive gotcha in the contract.

For more tips on marketing, writing, and publishing, read more by Tamara Wilhite at:

Marketing Your Writing, an Amazon Short
by Eric Enck And Tamara Wilhite

http://www.amazon.com/Marketing-Your-Writing/dp/B0013AKMHC/ref=sr_1_4?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1203282442&sr=1-4

Successful Book Signing Tips by Eric Enck and Tamara Wilhite (Kindle Edition)

http://www.amazon.com/Successful-Book-Signing-Tamara-Wilhite/dp/B0011MSA7G

About the author:

Friendship A Fragrance

2008-03-17T21:13:00.004-05:00

However short the span !

so enchanting in smile .....

The Daffodils .

Love the budding smile

into Rose it blossoms

So does blossom

a bud in Friendship

So traverses a path

a Fragrance so akin.

charan

"Tears at times have all the weight of speech" (Ovid)

2008-03-15T19:04:00.008-05:00

I opened the backdoor to a sheen of flickering lights bouncing on the pristine blanket of snow, that great silence inviting me into it's stillness.

My eyes were still blinded somewhat by the light, and I was not fully awake yet I counted the six steps to myself as if on automated pilot, my OCD kicking in. My left boot hit the snow first,cracking the layer of the hard crust while I stood paralyzed for a moment till I knew where I had to go.

1,2,3,4...18 steps it took to get to the edge of the pond.

I knelt down and started to rub the newly fallen snow off and stared into the ice. I could see your face encased in a kaleidoscope of green amber like circle. Your black hair with it's waves outlining it. Hollow black holes for where your eyes and mouth were, and it had a tormented look to it.

I scraped the ice with my nails feverishly trying to get at you, my brain became silent, I kissed you till your image faded before me.

I lay on my side with my cheek to the ice and my right leg numb, and though my body remained paralyzed, my feet not moving, nor my arms or head, only hearing my heartbeat.

By now I could make out the naked trees holding my captive audience of sparrows and crows.
Why couldn't I rescue you from your fate and your role. You lusted to wear yourself out. I was not resigned to the fact that your appetite was defiance, and your constant danger your drink!

And now in that pond you wanted to be rescued?

Was it your way to tell me you were sorry?

I now roll over into a sitting position and notice my right leg red filled with blotches, and stinging me. My nightgown is up around my thigh, yet my parka fully zipped up.

My eyes are brimmed with tears distorting the images of the trees now, as if they are reaching out to me.

You had understood it would end like this, but you were sunken into that tunnel. We gave each other solace, and a euphoric connection, but the Gods would not have it in this lifetime for us.

How odd now Lou Reed's song "Walk on the Wild Side" is playing in my head.

I step back into my footsteps, 1,2,3,4...18, and six steps till I reach the porch, open the door, hang up my parka and enter into the kitchen, put on the kettle and with my red legs and wet nightgown I think in Italian "Non voglio te, voglio il te." "I don't want thee, I want tea."

I take the tea cupping it to my face and I make the 10 steps upstairs to my bedroom, sip the tea, and look at the 3 pills lined on my nightstand. I know it's early morning because they are waiting for me that day.

I take one, and lay back thinking of my mystery lover whom I spoke to on the phone for hours, yet knew for a lifetime, who confided in me, knew me, calmed me, and energized me before we were to meet in flesh, just two weeks before your death.

Now understanding that life had meaning and that to lose it would be pure madness.

Love you forever..........

"Sirat: Through the Fires of Hell" - available on Amazon.com

2008-03-12T16:48:00.005-05:00

Between the fire and the ice, they will build paradise.

This thrilling interstellar, intergenerational epic follows the crew of the Archer from their stranding on the volcanic and glacial world of Sirat, as their descendants transform themselves and their new world. The delicate balance will be thrown into chaos by the arrival of a new starship from Earth.

“Sirat: Through the Fires of Hell” is now available through Amazon.com.

Contact me if you are interested in reviews and interviews. TAMARA@WILHITE.HOMEIP.NET

The Hidden

2008-03-08T20:03:00.002-06:00

Come take me in the darkness
Of your deepest night’s desire
Blind my eyes and silence me
Build my lusting fire
Make me yours and yours alone
Bind me by your decree
Remind me I am not my own
Let the flames rage in me
When then I can not stand the heat
And whimper for relief
Allow me please to take my place
There kneeling at your feet
Have your way and have it please
No mercy you should show
The fires you stoked
Will then be quenched
In the instant of release

Copyright©2008 Contessa

turning of the sprit

2008-03-08T19:06:00.003-06:00

back in 1978 I lived in L.A. California...
my famliy live hear in N.W Georgia...

living in LA surrounded by people,yet so alone
at nineteen my dream from sixteen finally came around

with the variety of people in my life now
i know not which way to go
try to fit in with all the rest
and it's not happening

wishing I was home in georgia
missing my family and hoped they missed me

mom calls on the phone one day
after not hearing from her in many moons
to tell me my dad is dying and i need to come home soon

this was quite a blow
for i knew there was no money
how was i to get there in time
and see my father before he goes

hanging up the phone
paceing the room
what do i do...

walking out to the back yard
looking at the stars in the sky
falling to my knee
i know this is what i have to try

no rain in months
the earth is dry
please let it rain if you hear my cry

standing up going back in the house
i hear thunder in the background
turning around looking up at the sky
the clouds rolling in
and the rain is comming down

the next day standing at the bus depot
with a nine month old baby on my hip
I made to georgia in time
and with that being said
i'll never forget

Nita

Amadeus

2008-03-07T12:57:00.000-06:00

Tonight

I pulled the wrappers
off all the stars and
poured them into your
hand.

You

responded with
a complete recap
of this evening's
news.

That's ok... you have
your priorities and

I have mine.

Copyright ©2008 Nadine Clayton

My Sister's False Teeth

2008-03-05T21:19:00.004-06:00

Another excerpt from my autobiography W.I.P., thanks for reading!

My sister would ride her bike down the country road, part of it was actually a hill, so she would cruise down at full speed...she loved stuff like that, she was a little daredevil. But one day, my cousin and I were playing out in the yard and we heard a strange noise in the distance. Oddly it sounded like a rooster crowing, and even though we lived in the country, no one in the vicinity owned a rooster. I heard it again and again, and it started sounding more and more human, like a cry for help. So I ran in and told my mother and grandmother I heard the strange noise...for whatever reason they drove up the street and found my sister on the side of the road. She had crashed her bike and was very banged up. They brought her home bleeding all over, and the craziest part was, she was missing her four front teeth. Between sobs my sister insisted she knew where the teeth were, she said they were there on the side of the road laying right next to one another. My mother thought she was hallucinating, surely the teeth were scattered about due to the impact and the way she had tumbled, but my sister pled with them, “please go get my teeth!” Sure enough my mom and grandma went back to the crash site and found my sister's teeth. All four of them, root and all, laying right there next to each other on the side of the road (my mom tells this story by tucking her thumb into her palm displaying four fingers). There was no blood on the teeth either, somehow she had hit her face in a perfect spot that just released the four teeth without breaking them. The story doesn't end there. I actually felt very bad for my sister, she was 14 and previously beauty queen material, which I hated her for. Now she was a bloody, toothless zombie lying in bed. I remember standing in the doorway of her bedroom just staring at her (in disbelief). I couldn't believe what had happened to her, I felt terrible even though I hated her guts. THE WORST part of the story is, that my sister was to be in my Uncle's wedding as the maid of honor within a week. Amazingly, she did not cancel out, she stood up there in her gorgeous dress, scabbed, swollen and toothless. My Uncle looked down at her as they were standing at the alter and said, “you look like 10 miles of bad road”. (he had the same wicked sense of humor as my dad) So, this is the story of my sister and why she got a plate of false teeth when she was 14.

INTUTIONS AND REFLECTIONS

2008-03-04T13:14:00.006-06:00

Simple matter isnt it !
Intuitions and reflections

When light falls on matter it is reflected, deflected, suffers refraction, transmits partially or completely, gets absorbed OR adsorbed.With scientifically invented instruements and based on parameters set within framework of science of physics, one can actually measure the extent of reflection, deflection etc etc. Before the invention of respective technical instruments one could sense each of the above referred phenomenon even though measurement of same was not possible.

Human mind with its inherent powers of understanding had an idea about measuring each phenomenon even before advent of methods of measurement of each in a scientific manner.What is measurable sufficiently accurately to an extent determined by available understanding of each happening within matter when light falls on it was thought of and efforts made to understand the Hows and Whys of each phenomenon even before The Concept Of Scientific reasoning and so too of measurement of each to a fair degree. So was possible and so was opined too to an extent within the grasp and reach of ineherent human senses wherein some parameters, call it logical measure or whatever were sought. This grasp without the currently known understanding of various phenomenon which we today call scientific itself, gave rise to thoughts that created relevent discoveries and inventions.

Now what is discussed above is mainly about a quantitatively measurable activity, some measurable numbers/aspects of happenings within matter of diverse characteristics when subjected to an external impact/energy and an activity happens within; which as referred here is the falling of light that undergoes either a change in direction or complete reflection, transmission, absorption etc etc due to effect of its falling on or of activity that happens within matter on which it falls. When we are in a position to noticeably see something in context such as this, readily OR even measure it is a kind of direct REFLECTION.

There are also Reflections of the kind that are not measurable as in each phenomenon described above yet are reflections to human mind. Say one has seen a beautyful monument, a painting or a beautyful lady is each a kind of reflection too. So also one readily makes/aquires for oneself a reflection in each of cases such as : when one visits a famous public place, reads a great book, is a spectator to enactment of a play, an audience to a great orator, one is at a live music concert or is oneself a part of a great orchestra.

These are the kind of reflections that are not readily visible in a manner as objects subjected to a measurable phenomenon of sort mentioned above, so too of the acts on account of ones' own visit or when one was oneself a part of such an act of various forms mentioned above. Say such reflections are ascribed to the quality of making of each object under observation Or respective talent of as in each case, say of the writer of the book, of the painter and the actors, director, the play write etc etc involved with the play or those involved in orchestra.

What doesnt appear to reflect visibly, or as readily as above mentioned objects, so too as noticeable or accurately measurable as in each of the scientifically measurable phenomenon described above : but is sensed intuitively and is of an imaginery supposition, thought of and sought too, is deduceable and pronounced too within concepts such as of an intrinsic genre-a partcular kind of sense which is available to few individuals of a very special inherent calibre within is what INTUITION all about.So I think and shall try to elaborate as in precincts of my own mind.

As I think It was due mainly to inherent intellect of man and his intuitive skills thereby placing his thoughts into depths of minute details of respective phenomenon itself that the discovery and invention of technical instruments, so too respective theories with respect to study and measurement of each phenomenon to a sufficietly accurate degree, became a reality.
So too about phenomenon of intrinsic nature, not directly noticeable and reflective to human eye, phenomenon such as established theories on sense of pscychology and philosophy so too about the thoughts concerning The CREATOR.

Now let us look again at each observation discussed above as Reflection.The reflections readily made to human eye as light falls on matter of a diverse charanteristic.
In general human mind is host to this activity as a mere reflection. But to an intuitive mind it may be and yes it is much more than a mere reflection whatever the suffering the light has undergone when it fell on matter, say a mirror, a transparent or plain glass plate, a prism, a steel plate, a harder coal, a piece of graphite or water itself or any such solid or liguid matter to suffer reflection, refraction etc etc etc.

An intuitive mind thinks and imagines to make suppositions of a kind much beyond all noticeable reflections.An intuitive mind tries to think and unearth each one and every one of the innumerous whys and buts that are involved with each phenomenon. Intuitive mind wonders about the characteristics of matter as to why this reflects why that refracts and why other deflects and another transmits; yet another adsorbs and why one of similar basic structure absorbs.

Now think of those reflections which are subject to an oridinery observation only like seeing a monument, a painting or a beautyful lady !An intuitive mind will go beyond mere say : Ohh what a structure ! ahh what a painting ! 'wow....what a beauty' !!!

Intuitive mind does possible best to fathom the minute inherent qualities of making of each object where as only a reflection of which is oridinarily made. What is sought by intuitive mind is a different kind of assessment. So too the criteria followed in reasoning with respect to making of formar two and the latter. The latter concerns an additional fact that whereas in making of former two- human hands are mainly to count on and calibre of the maker but in case of the lady under observation something more is involved. Some may assign mother the reason for her beauty, some to father or both and some may even think of yet another,The Creator.
Talking about Intuition and intuitive mind !

Well an Intuitive mind could and would just about analyse any issue concerning any field with even the minimum known basic knowledge of same. But as things go considering that aquired academic knowledge is average, Intuitive persons aquire and continue to possess vast depth in apparant fields mainly because of this inherent quality within. And it is this quality within some individuals which enables such of a kind who can handle many a precarious situation that so arises at various junctures of life, be it at home within ones' own family, be it in course of ones' academic career itself or be it too in course of ones' professional career.

At school, college and university as an academic career is in the making one can notice students that have great academic records,Yes Records but they do not take active part in interactions during process of learning within hours: the teacher, the lecturing professor is imparting information known to him and relevent to the prescribed syllabus, though this kind of interaction is what brings about realistic learmning. But there are students who on paper do not have such great looking record to go by yet they are as active in the process of learning as the lecturer is in imparting known knowledge. Such students without the detail knowledge of matter in discussion, interact actively and pose questions making the teacher reach depth in the relevent subject which in normal course he/she wouldnt. Such students are the kind that possess intuitive calibre. This goes on continuously all through life of such individuals and such are the ultimate torchbearers in each field and not necessarily those who Top the On paper Merit lists.

And there were those Greats too, greater than these greats, most of whom had not even seen The School. They possessed Intuitive qualities of the highest order.

Intuition is an inborn quality and foremost among those that possess a sense of Psychology OR Philosophy. Its not for nothing that The Wise prominently spell " Psychologists and Philosphers are Born,Not made".

There is a popular Persian saying: "Bazurgi Ba AkkL AssT, Na Ba Saal"

Though 'The Truth' exists, Intuition is just but The Core Kink responsible to the thought within that established the hitherto known, 'The Truth' in each and every known aspect that is worth a Thought. 'The Truth' no matter what was made known to Man only because some Men possessed within The Initial, The Foremost, The Core Kink, "Intuition"..

BEGGING BOWL

2008-03-02T17:12:00.002-06:00

You reach to touch me.
Do you feel the bubbling brook or the fluttering leaves?
In the warmth of skin, the texture of our breathing,
is there a conviction in the brief kiss of no passion?
Is there magic in this ritual, bringing life-energy into song?
My mirror warns of this Crone, who cackles in delight
at my self-assessment.

The gown of darkness drops from my being, in observation
of my shapes, paleolithic. I stand in testament of union,
permanently sculpted by scars of birthing.
The old clothes of my spirit-closet are outgrown.
Diligently, reluctantly, my trembling fingers pick
at the tatters of my history, choosing bits of earthen colour,
black for the nights of sorrows and a glowing robe.

As Persephone ventured to the land of darkness,
I am reborn from the deep death sleep of earth's womb.
I will not set out my begging bowl for love or understanding,
thinking resentment through the raucous snores of indifference.
Perhaps I should not be transparent woman, offering
up all I am to be experienced, or not to be experienced.
Perhaps a mystery to be unfolded would be best.

5/31/2001_ rewrite March 21, 2004

DDT'S DEMAGOGUERY

2008-03-02T11:26:00.003-06:00

DDT'S DEMAGOGUERY

By Tamara Wilhite

“Our son is dead, and you say we cannot sue?” the mother asked disbelievingly.

“I cannot see how Green Peace, much less these other environmental groups, are to blame for your child’s death,” Daniel replied. He wanted a case, but this was too much a long shot.

“Our country was not allowed to make DDT, because of your patents. You would sell it to us, because of your environmental laws.” Daniel began to fade as the man’s thick African accent droned on. “Then you were so busy giving us condoms for men to see prostitutes and AIDS drugs when they were infected, that they did not have money for drugs to treat children with malaria.”

“Then perhaps you should have used anti-malarial drugs to prevent the disease –“

“If we could not afford the drugs to cure him, we could not afford the drugs to keep him from getting healthy in the first place.”

Poor people, Daniel thought, in more ways than one. “Can’t you have another child?” Daniel asked. “The family planning commission would have to give you permission to replace your only child.”

“Family planners sterilized my wife when she had our son. They said there were already too many poor people in the world.” Then, bitterly, “Perhaps that is why they don’t let us kill mosquitoes with DDT. Millions fewer poor people, all dead.”

Millions dead. Those words snapped Daniel out of his doldrums and into daydreams. “Perhaps your case would be more seriously considered by the courts if it were a class action lawsuit. The same NGOs that caused your child’s death strong armed you, your people, your country – into a situation where this was certain to happen to many people.” Class action suits are big money, when there are many sob stories. “Can you give me names of those who have died of malaria due to lack of DDT? Especially those who’ve lost the only children they had, as well.”

“You will take our case?” the husband asked in his thick accent.

“I think we can find a jury to consider demanding proper compensation from environmentalists for so many unnecessary deaths. The human lives should be worth at least as much as the other animals they keep suing to protect.”

Tamara Wilhite is the author of "Humanity's Edge", "Natural Talent", and "Geronimo Reduex" on amazon.com

Life on the Farm

2008-03-01T12:42:00.004-06:00

Another excerpt from my autobiography W.I.P. - thanks for reading!

The farm was such a neat place. The house was white, we had a huge yard and a gravel driveway. There was a field adjacent to the house around which my Dad had built a huge wooden fence to hold in the cows. There was a chicken house, a shack for tools, and a big red barn at the end of the field. Behind the house were acres and acres of land that my Dad farmed. He grew corn and soybean. It was extremely rural, so people were always dropping off their unwanted dogs and cats on our property. We also had several horses, they were my sister's passion. She and Dad were very close, kindred spirits. It is very hard to write about this time because I don't have a lot of strong memories about it. My Dad worked a factory job all night long, graveyard shift, he got home at 4 or 5 in the morning and slept briefly only to get up and work on the farm. My mother worked as a bookkeeper in a steel mill.

My sister is almost 8 years older than me and she never acknowledged my existence, unless she thought of a way to torture me. My brother and I were closer in age, so we were always playmates...and I found ways to torture him. The greatest toy back in the 70's was the Superball. Originally I think they were designed to play jacks with, but kids loved playing with them, just making them bounce around willy-nilly. One time my sister chased me through the house with a hand full of superballs...she chased me all the way to the laundry (mud) room so I was cornered. She slammed all the superballs to the floor and shut the door...they bounced all around me like mad as I was huddled on the floor protecting my head. When the balls would hit the dryer they made a huge noise, and of course since there were 5 or 6 balls, it made a tremendous racket. Looking back it is a hilarious memory, but at the time I was scared shitless.

In return, I was very cruel to my little brother. I think I hated the fact that he was so cute. I used to play dead all the time, just lie down close my eyes and breathe shallowly. My brother would come in, thinking I was asleep, but I would not move. He would shake me and my body would be completely limp. He would start screaming my name and crying sorrowfully, he would run to tell someone and I would sit straight up as if nothing had happened. He fell for this so many times I could not believe it. Finally one day, he got wise and tickled me on the foot...the gag was over. I would have to think of something else.

I loved the barn, and I would often venture out there and climb around on the hay bails and talk to the horses. It was a creepy place too, so I never stayed long...I always had to go to the bathroom once I got there. This why I was never good at “Hide and Go Seek” either. I thought of a great new way to torture my little brother though. I told him we would play “runaways”, and all we had to do was go out to the barn, and pretend that was our new home. Well, my brother was more than skeptical, because he HATED cows and we had to walk across the cow pasture to get to the barn. I'm not sure how I convinced him...but he did it. We walked across the pasture and I am very lucky my 4 year old brother didn't have a seizure because he was scared out of his mind. Once we got to the barn, I showed him how we could live by eating corn kernels and licking salt. We could sleep in the hay, and live up on the top floor where no one would ever find us. (remember, we were “runaways”). Suddenly, I would remember that I “forgot” something back at the house. I told my brother I would run across the pasture and return as quickly as possible. He said, “I'll go with you”, but I explained that it would mean walking across the field with all the cows again, and he surely didn't want to do that! I insisted I would only be gone a few minutes, and then I turned to leave and shut the door on him. Instantly he screamed bloody murder...DON'T LEAVE ME HERE!!!!! Ahhhh, memories.

This was life on the farm. We didn't have neighbors, literally you could look up and down the road and there were no other houses, just corn fields. My favorite show was Mr. Rogers Neighborhood, and I nagged my mother relentlessly that I wanted to live in a neighborhood so I could have friends. Maybe that was another reason I wanted to join Brownies. I felt very isolated on the farm, but it forced me to be creative and imaginative. When I started Kindergarten I was in HOG HEAVEN! Suddenly I had an audience! I tried out my “playing dead” gag on the other children, but they were not as naïve as my brother. So, I started dramatizing my death, I would come up with a whole scenario which every child had a role to play, and somehow at the end of the “show” I would end up dead in the closet. This was not as fun as I had hoped it would be. Everyone just left me in the closet and went back to finger painting. This was terribly disappointing.

Life Lessons from the Garden: The Sweet Pea Massacre

2008-02-28T21:27:00.004-06:00

I kind of knew that I shouldn't have pruned them so harshly but I'd been looking at them closely now for two weeks - wondering why they were rioting over the side of their bathtub container, yet still they had no blossoms on their massive tendrils. I thought that I had planted duds, that I wasn't going to get any flowers, or worse yet,that I would have this tangled mess of sweet pea vines just taking up room in my precious soil.

I'd been angry that day, and perhaps in reflection I realize now that I should never prune while angry, worse, never prune while angry when you aren't sure of what you are pruning.

So whack,off came the fragile tendrils. I had no remorse,the more I pruned the more I whacked and pretty soon all that was left were a few curling survivors, clinging to the trellis for dear life. After I was done I felt a huge sense of relief, the unruly mass was gone and in it's place were a few scrappy stragglers that had managed to escape the wrath of my pruning shears. Alas, the sweet pea massacre was over and I could start with a clean slate.

After all, they weren't going to flower so why allow them to just take up space? As I left the huddled mass of vines on the ground and retreated inside to sip on my coffee, questions instantly started buzzing around in my head- Questions like: What if they were going to flower? Did I just make a major mistake? Did I perhaps take off too many vines? Did I just kill any chance of having any sweet pea's from my surviving tendrils?

My worst fears were confirmed when I went outside a few days later to check on my little remaining vines. As I looked on the ground, I almost broke down and cried in guilty sadness. There on the ground amongst the ravage of the sweet pea massacre were tiny little pink flowers, straining toward the sun. Petals so perfect they looked like fragile little butterfly wings. Springing forth even though I'd chopped them off from the source of their survival- the vine. I felt like screaming, WHY DID I DO THAT? I was probably about to have the most profuse blooming of sweet pea's I'd ever had in my life and I had cut them down in the prime of their life! Right before they could show their real stuff-their flowery burst of brilliance that would have captivated butterflies hearts..........

And as always, I learn some lessons the hard way, and I also see so many analogies to life in my garden. Analogies of how life in the garden is so closely related to our lives as human beings...Of how somehow, God always shows up in my garden to teach me something profound that I am meant to carry with me and reflect on........

Lesson Learned? Don't be too hard on people before they are ready, maybe the best bloom of their season is yet to come but us, in our haste, cut them down before we can see their true glory.

So sorry sweet pea's- I'll miss you this spring.

Pilgrimage

2008-02-27T18:57:00.002-06:00

One direction, South I travel, limited to the realm of rails.
Kaleidoscope fragments of light pierce through
my tears like broken glass. I press my face
against the window barrier. Vibrations throb,
metal against metal,
in the tickety-tack-clack of the train wheels.

tickety-tack-clack tickety-tack-clack
Metal against metal, sword against sword,
sword against shield, sword covered in blood.

Grainne's solar orb burns silver in the haze,
moving East to West, her constant eye on past and present.
Snapshots blink across the window, frame by frame,
flickers of green, grey, blue and brown.
Stone walls, and woolly hedgerows outline
fields of time and place, between the station stops.
This Land. Earth. She. Every cell of my being
has been of every part. Gentle curves belie
Truth buried with the bones and broken castles.

Ancient Ancient Ancient
Standing stones and groves,
Her jewels of spirit-time grace each curve of Her body,
each crevice, sensual in individual gifts.
Every breath of Her being, blessed by blood.
Blood? "I see no blood," you say.
The Ancient Ones try to speak with muted mouths,
mists rising and falling within the trees.
We learned nothing from these sacrifices.

tickety-tack-clack tickety-tack-clack
Metal against metal, sword against sword,
sword against shield, sword covered in blood.

5/29/2001
Rev. 3/26/2003
Anita Ashford-Trotter

ABAAD TANHAAI

2008-02-27T03:38:00.003-06:00

Kadkati dhup

Suraj bulandi parr

Andhera hai kyun itna !

Kal raat dikha naa Tara he koyi

phir Chandni thi RUSS gayi

Tanha toa rahaa he

KambakhT'

Tanhaai Abaad Ho Gayi.

The Portfolio

Where's the Baby?

Something in the Creek

Grizzly Long Hair Feather Extensions

Remembering Towns lost

For Joe

Teen fucked

Gardening Analogies: Life Lessons from the Garden

The Sweet Pea Massacre

Luigi and Joe

First of many to come

"Selling" Pets on Craigslist

Sign the Petition on the BP Oil Spill

My Cat Just Died

Book Video Trailer: A Place Called Home

Buy Mud Pie Clothing Online

I Didn't Ask to Be Born!

The Lost Art of Painting on Windows

A RATIONALE BEYOND LIGHT !

Dorsi Diaz: SF Climate Change Examiner

Want to be a Reporter? Here's Your Chance!

How to Vaccinate a Puppy

What Is The Nigerian Scam?

One Life Giver One Life Provider !

Fire Proof Your Marriage

The Chihuahua Puppy Chronicles

SOOKHI MERI KALAM UDAAS

Ribbit

FIVE horror anthologies for Halloween consumption - by Tamara Wilhite and co-authors!

Fiction Prodigies And Legends Volume 1 -Interviews with the New Voices In Horror

"Bonded by Blood" out in time for Halloween

On Being Me

Fiction Prodigies And Legends Volume 1 - Interviews with the New Voices In Horror

“Fiction Prodigies And Legends Volume 1 - Interviews with the New Voices In Horror "

Why I'm Voting For Obama

Book signings for Tamara Wilhite Nov. 29th

How most internet marketing gurus are ripping off writers

My Light Side

SOOTHING SHADOWS

Things To Consider When Renting Out A Room

"Genres" - a new horror anthology by Tamara Wilhite

We are so much more beneath the skin

Amazon Kindle's Embers

TWO more book signings for author Tamara Wilhite

How I Saw You !

Hot Sexy Cat Pics

Next book signing for Tamara Wilhite

LIFE

-----------------------------------------AFTERMATH>>>>>>>>........__________

Completeness

How can you get "Amazon Kindle Publishing for Idiots" without a Kindle?

FLOWERMAID SHALL BE MY QUEEN

New nonfiction book for Tamara Wilhite

Musings of the Mad

LOVE errrr...........OR True Love.

Forever

***********POETRY IN MOTION***********

Book signing for Tamara Wilhite THIS Saturday

Just Released...

Morning Sun'

Treasure ~ Golden sunlight'

A coat of many colours'~

Book signings for Tamara Wilhite this month!

A Mind Not Her Own

SIMON

New anthology - Tamara Wilhite contributor and editor

where the sky is bright

Fresh Cut Grass

How to get the “Search Inside” option set up on Amazon.com

LONESOME THOUGHTS

Still

Raven's Reprieve

SACRED GIFT

Marks On This World

"Sirat: Through the Fires of Hell" - 30% off on Amazon

A Love Letter

Stinky and the Magic Carpet

INTERNET EXPOSER

TANHAAI KAA SABAB !

One of The Funniest Stories of My Life

POETRY IN MOTION