So distant, is a stand of trees, a secret place, my mind at ease. Forest's edge, winter apples grow, increase my pace, zephyrs show impending snow. Curled up ferns, visual pleasure, pine needle carpet, walk of leisure. I'm not alone, chipmunk squawks, takeoff my shoes and itchy socks. Frosty air, hot springs steam, ease in … Continue reading “Vision-quest” By Raymond Roy. #poetry #flashfiction
Grandfather, "where does cotton come from?" My son, In the land of the Mongols half way 'round the world, grows a plant, of fluffy pearls. Balancing on bellybuttons, tiny lambs are propped, growing as a shrub-like plant, where-ever sheep scat is dropped. Image credit: Wiki Enter the fields on a breezy day, Lamb of Tartar … Continue reading Counting “sheep” by Raymond Roy #poetry #Fffaw #lambsofTartary
Taking Census, approaching the building Glare of the sun reflecting off the abandoned hotel, pierced my eyes .. stench of a body filled my nostrils, sharp gravel on bare feet kept me shifting from one foot to the other. Looking through open window Blanket of blowflies over the corpse imprinted on my brain. A crack … Continue reading Taking the “Senses” by Raymond Roy #fiction
Email invitations chimed. RSVP: Annual Performance Based Recognition! Wrigley, James, and Christie smugly thought, ”It's about time"! Anticipating accolades about to be bestowed, the pompous trio, arrived that evening, but, being peers, surprised, to see each there. Assigned seating was under a funnel-shaped fixture suspended from the ceiling. "Places please,” the CEO announced. With an … Continue reading R.S.V.P.
High atop budding maple Sounds a call, of a natural staple The shrill of the Cardinal announcing loud Spring has arrived with rain and cloud Puffed up proud, red crimson breast Red-olive-colored females, so impressed. Fluttering dives well orchestrated Welcoming Spring so long awaited "Showing off"Blackened face, burnt orange beak, Seeds and insects are what … Continue reading “The Cardinal’s Call” by Raymond Roy #poetry
In the spirit of reaching those that have had good or bad experiences in Foster care, as well as to those considering being a Foster parent, a little kindness and understanding goes along way. Before discipline and punishment, please consider love and guidance. Many of these kids won’t trust you, or perhaps cant be trusted because that is what the world has taught them. Over 40 years later my healing from the one year with this harsh Foster parent continues. He is gone of this earth, this is part of his legacy. The first step in forgiveness is understanding, understanding to learning, learning to choices. My choice is to share and empower others. Peace.
I learned that you are dead.
Although words say you have passed, your cruel deeds committed by you to me as a child still lingered for decades.
You might have softened and treated your own children better than you treated your foster children.
I had a condition you judged as a plea for attention. Rather than love and understanding you provided physical and verbal abuse.
Perhaps you learned cruelty from those that mistreated you. I have pity for you or anyone in that circumstance if that was the case.
Perhaps you thought you taught discipline and tough love. You were mistaken.
I learned from you how it was to feel neglected and mistreated.
Because others that showed me what unconditional Love was, I was given the gift of learning that not all in the world were evil and cruel.
With this gift I have strived to the best of my…
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“This” is a masterful piece of work. A story, a poem within a story. “This” is an example of what I aspire to create someday.
And this life has always been a mystery, to you, to me and to Kashiv. He doesn’t usually go out and when he does he spends the whole day in one place, staring at the sky, mountains and the forest.
He shares a kinship to everything around him flowers, light and pebbles. He likes being one with the nature and so strips himself and lies naked under the shade of the tall tree he does not know the name of.
In time his body will be covered with dirt, mud and dry leaves. He will be no different than a dead man, buried.
No one knows what goes inside that head of his, that is if he has one; and so no one can tell what he feels or understands or experiences when he does this little act of madness.
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Scrolling through my email..click down button and then look away. Why is it so hard to concentrate. My boss's eyes burning on the back of my head. "Jacob". he sidled to my left. "Oh, hey Boss,"I blurted out. He had a warm smile, "Just saying good morning", "Ga-go-good morning Mr. Springer." What the hell is … Continue reading “Spam” by Raymond Roy
The sign means STOP, to all refugees, it has been years since we have seen any trees. Rifle and young child upon my shoulder, radiant heat off a Turkish boulder. Granite boulder on our neighbors land, we seek escape, from a tyrants hand. Unwelcomed people, we accept a fate, choosing to live, versus war and … Continue reading The Long Path By Raymond Roy #poetry
Wild blueberry season was in full bloom. Samantha and Sarah sat with their bucket on the hillside as they weren't permitted to pass over the bridge to the fields. Frustrated, "What the Heck? Who ever heard of toll bridge that only takes credit cards. " Samantha grumbled. "Look at all the heavy bushes on the … Continue reading Blueberry Hill By Raymond Roy #FffAW #humor