I hope this post finds you well. During this time of mandatory isolation, I, like many others have time. Time well spent in my humble opinion is time taken to reflect on one’s self. via Standing Alone A poem By Raymond Roy. #Poetry
"The Rescue" The shock from the fox regeneration, (from Chapter 1)sent an intense spasm through Bella’s body. It started at the base of her neck, traveled down her spine and snapped her curly tail straight like the whip of a muleskinner. Traffic whirred by. A string of orange barrels dotted the rural state road, … Continue reading Chapter 2
The Elder Sitting quietly grinning, taking a well earned rest The Elder watches the little ones, putting their youth to the test. Not so long ago, she wore buckskin and tended pastoral sheep, Cared for her babies, singing them softly off to sleep, Off to war in a far off land protecting freedom, she never … Continue reading The Elder
It is twenty years since you became my wife. For two decades, we have shared our lives. In ‘99 our honeymoon began, in Booth Bay harbor, with the Ocean so grand. Meeting local artisans, into a leather shop we ventured, We asked to see a billfold, the shop owner was quite indentured. Knowing we were … Continue reading “The Wallet”
Thank you to those who have encouraged me. Peace
A deafening stillness... A scattering of stubborn stars shimmer, resembling sequins on a cocktail dress that should have been home, hours before. As dawn arrives, like ice crystals, the stars relent, slowly melting away for a days rest. A Cardinal’s silhouette appears in the sherbet orange daybreak. Boldly he bounds to the treetop and gives … Continue reading “When The Morning Comes” A poem by Raymond Roy #poetry
Harmony.... If there is power in kindness, harmony is the fuel that feeds it. ..... Accept the fact that others(even those you despise) have the same right to the pursuit of happiness as you.
..victims can be so beaten down that sadly this abuse provides a sense of security. Knowing that they (the chains) are if nothing else, always there.
Illuminated maple leaves resemble the tired veins of an old man's hand who is ready for a long rest.
Standing alone, I wonder why. No one is there to hear when I laugh, breathe, or sigh. What have I done? Have I been cast aside? Is this my Ego's fault, heavy laden with ugly pride? I have a choice of self pity or self-reflect. A challenge to my psyche, knowing not what to expect. … Continue reading Standing Alone, A poem By Raymond Roy. #Poetry