Mothers, Short Stories, and Poetry

Good morning everyone!

I’d like to introduce you to my Mother. She’s pretty awesome, but my opinion is biased after all, because she’s my Mom. Her blog is just starting out and from here it looks like a wild adventure about life, music, food, comedy, tragedy- Life! It should be a fun time. I invite you check out her ramble, at Eclectic Stirling. Be nice, or I will hunt you down and unleash the fury of sweaty mice with bad cheese. *big smiles*

So on Tuesday we finished up with Alan/ Arlo Croste’s second mystery (and I promise there is another in the works right now). For those enjoying the western/ sci-fi/ post-apocalypse of Westocalypse, there’ll be another adventure soon. If you missed them, or just want to re-visit, you can find them on the Short Fiction page along with a few other tales.

Looking for a quick read on your lunch break, dinner break, or just for something quick to read?  Check out the Flash Fiction page.  It’s full of several short stories at 1000 words or less, and a new gets added every Friday.

For now, I’ve got a little bit of poetry for you. I hope you enjoy, and thanks for stopping by!

Almost forgot- Camp NaNoWriMo Update: 34,006 words.

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I Calmly Sit and Sip the Winter Swell

I calmly sit and sip the winter swell
With dreams of dreams I know quite well
A mystery perhaps that they foretell
As I listen to the cold north bell,

Wishing of the time that one day nears
Putting aside my childish fears
Closing in on the dawn and my tears
I calmly sip the passing of years,

And with the dawn so readily at hand
I wish to see the oceans’ moist sand
But knowing it from before as grand
I fear I won’t come to the edge of land,

With compass and brandy at my side
Into my dreams I see you glide
Remembering when the time I died
Remembering too the time I lied,

And if you could forgive me still
Being not a priest or  medicinal pill
And counting your days upon the hill
To leave nothing written on so-called will,

Screaming out her name at your lungs peak
And still in your mind a melting weak
That causes you ill and bones get meek
To finally kiss her once warm cheek,

It was there she was buried beneath the tree
The place of all places that brought her peace
And still you sit with her warm memory
As if the you might still be we,

Sadly it comes that you should feel
To go by yourself and never heal
And wishing again her heart to steal
Sadly knowing it was never real.


2 thoughts on “Mothers, Short Stories, and Poetry

  1. Thanks for the nod, Joe. So far, I’m enjoying the start of my blog, Ramblings of an Eclectic Mind. I think it;s going to be a lot of fun. Loved your poem, too. Very sweet and melancholy. Who hasn’t experienced loss of one kind or another? It’s a universal truth, so I’ll calmly sit and sip the winter swell with you.

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