Glow

The night is quiet less the shuffled sound of sandal turned desert rocks and labored breathing.

My hands grow increasingly numb with every step, backpack straps from the heavy pack full of all our worldly possessions restrict the blood flow to my arms, but we must keep going.

From the darkness an innocent voice asks, “What is that father?”

Vapor from our warm breath momentarily glows like a cloud, illuminated by the distant bright lights of the Kabul airport.

Without looking down, nor losing a step I respond, that’s hope my son, that’s hope”.

Word Count=94

“Thaw”

“Thaw”

“I don’t want to talk about it, but the quiet might be worse”-Sabrina Song “Thaw” Official video

Powerful lyrics, so reflective of the times we live in. A long emotional winter.

“Emotional Winter” photo by Raymond Roy

Personally over the past year, an increasing number of my relationships, typically after “Speaking my truth” have grown cold and I have literally run out words to say. Left only with the heavy dense fog of silence residing in what seems to be ever widening gaps.

I recently heard that in Vietnam, there is a saying, “before you speak your mind, wait for seven heartbeats” (perhaps a lesson to speak from the heart rather than the mind). I suspect the isolating truths I spoke were not from my heart but rather from my mind(ego). As Tolle puts it so well in “The Power of Now”, Egos win when they convince us to focus on the mistakes of our past and the worries of the future. Living in the present moment is the ego’s nemesis.

In the present moment, neither the past nor the future exist……

By design we all need to feel loved, be treated with kindness, and dignity. We need the warmth of an emotional Spring. I am ready to “thaw” by striving to live in the warmth of the present moment and stand ready to count to seven in order to speak from my heart, and not my mind. I hope you’ll join me.

-Goroyboy

“Newspaper” Relationships

As I understand, Hemingway said that writing for a newspaper meant you needed to forget everything you learned from the previous day on the job and wipe the slate clean because there is a new story to be had for the next days headline.

In contrast, Hemingway said writing a story or a novel was to celebrate and apply what you know and learned in life..

I think relationships are the same way. Some are like newspapers and some are like a well written story or novel.

“Newspaper” relationships are all about the headline of the day. Slights, hurts or even joys for that matter experienced from the previous days story, mean little. Newspaper relationships are the days big headline with not allot of substance. At times you may wonder why you keep the subscription. If a newspaper relationship is to work, you must accept it for what it is and not rain on it with expectations lest it stop showing up on your front porch.

“Novel” relationships are like a favorite book that speaks to you. It is based on trust, commitment and mutual respect in which you allow yourself to be vulnerable, open to the story’s point of view and potentially grow as a person.

Peace-Goroyboy

“Ladies and gentlemen, the Professor on drums” (A Tribute) #Fridayfictioneers

1979: Protest folk music was dying down and Disco had reached its peak.

“Begin the day with a friendly voice, a companion unobtrusive” blasted through the vibrating buzz alarm of the 1960s turquoise clock radio. (Time for school)
“Spirit of Radio”by Progressive Rock band Rush
Lyrics by Peart
Neil Peart that is, aKa The Professor

Photo Source Pinterest

“If you choose not to decide, you still have me a choice”
“And the meek shall inherit the earth”
“Conform or be cast out”
Prophetic words to pubescent outcast teens, proclaiming Peart understood.
It’s been a year since Neil’s passing,
RIP Professor Sept1952-Jan 2020

100 Words

Photo credit Rolling Stone magazine

Thank you Professor🤘🏼-Goroyboy

This was written for the photo prompt for Rochelle Wiscoff’s Friday Fictioneers 100 word story challenge . Although not a traditional short story. Given the photo prompt of an empty drum set along with the appreciation I have for the artist/poet/lyricist, Neil Peart I found a tribute was in order. additional stories based on the photo prompt can be found here

The Yard Sign

I often walk or bicycle around our small town’s neighborhoods with my wife. As the upcoming election nears, front yards are adorned with candidates names displayed on yard signs, banners, and even up flag poles at times in place of the American flag.

Perhaps 50+ %of the yards in town are garnished with political collateral and not inconspicuously, 99% of the endorsements represented one party.

As life would have it, I happen to NOT support the highly visible party on popular display.

So…I ordered my yard sign.. when we returned home today, there it was in the front yard.

As I pushed the sign’s wire supports deeper into the dry clay soil, I swear I heard it say something, “What am I doing here?” “Are you sure this is the correct address?”

“ I heard your last sign got stolen”

As the day faded toward dusk, I was on the my front porch with my back to the street, painting my front door.

“I like your sign a voice called out”, I turned to see a lady walking her two dogs stopped on the sidewalk in front of my yard. “Thank you. Kinda stands out from all the others in town, doesn’t it? “ I replied.

“Yes it does” she chuckled nervously..

I responded, “ there is probably more opposition support in our town than people want to let on to.”

“I totally agree, I was actually afraid to put out a sign” she nervously shared.

“If you are afraid to put out a sign in your own front yard, perhaps that says allot doesn’t it? “ I said.

“Yes it does, but I feel better now after talking to you. Thank you.” she said as she lead her two fluffy companions onward..

“I feel better as well, Thank You, have a good evening”

I returned to my painting but not before looking at my yard sign, Which seemed to stand up just a little straighter.

-Goroyboy

A sign can also be a “symptom” which conveys meaning. Vote!

The Garden A poem By Raymond Roy

Down the step and through the gate,

My sanctuary, my escape, my garden awaits.

Brushing against mint, a fragrant clean, sunlight on basil illuminates a warm wrinkled sheen.

Earthy sage, for a cleansing smudge, bright tart strawberries best served with ice cream or dipped in hot fudge.

If you are quiet you can hear, Pumpkin leaves and Cucumber vine grow, hiding the walkway, disrupting the row.

The majestic Russian Mammoth Sunflower pays them no mind with round, welcoming face, she’s hosting the honeybees brunch time. .

Beefsteak and Roma leaves droop in the midday heat like waxy umbrellas. A slight breeze carries a geranium-like fragrance.

The warmth on my back, melts away the weight of the world.

Cicadas buzzing as if they were nature’s tea kettle boiling and whistling from the summer heat

-Goroyboy

“I will rise (2020)”, a poem by Raymond Roy

Photo Credit: Candy Staton Gammoh

I will rise….

Distant sunrise, cool morning breeze,

above the clouds, I rise with ease.

Like Ironman flying, I rise above,

Seeing those that have passed, my heart fills with love.

Gone is the weight of daily drama,

Which one is better, Trump, Biden or Obama?

Photo Credit: Denise Fullner Kittleson

I will rise,here souls have no gender, doctrine , origin, or race,

no conflict, hatred, color of face.

Time as we know it, does not exist, social media likes, or media twists.

I will rise, becoming stardust, from whence I came, free of life’s burdens, only love, no shame.

I will rise….

Revamped from an earlier version which I felt was timely. The peaceful pictures generously shared by friends reminded me that we will return to the stardust from whence we came.

Stay Well. https://dversepoets.com/

-Goroyboy

The Elder

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 dreamed that she would find,

A barrel chested Austrian, handsome, brave, and kind.

They raised their kids Viktor, Linda and Cherry,

around the world and in Sydney BC where they often took the ferry.

Laughing was a common sound whenever her family was nearby,

Our Elder leaves a legacy and her passing brings a sigh.

Thank you Aunt Nellie, for your devotion, patience, love and carrying forward an example of a life well lived. Amen.

I was around 11 or so when I went to stay 2 weeks with Aunt Nellie, Uncle Vik and Cherry on Vancouver Island. The bellowing laugh of Uncle Vik, the kind sweet spirit of Aunt Nellie and Cherry’s welcoming smile, is forever embossed in my heart. ❤️

“When The Morning Comes” A poem by Raymond Roy #poetry

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 his first trill of the day, announcing the gift of a new day.

I heard the first Spring Cardinal the other day. After a bleak winter, it reminded me of vibrant colors and fragrances to come. Peace.

-Goroyboy

Autumn Blaze

First frost,green is lost, Autumn winds clear the sky and the morning sun sets fall maple trees ablaze.

Illuminated maple leaves resemble the tired veins of an old man’s hand who is ready for a long rest.

Wet leaves dampen the sound of steps a proud ambitious buck, taking busy squirrels by surprise.

Hardy Cardinals invisible in the fluttering crimson leaves, shake off the morning chill and begin scouting a shelter for the coming winter.

Fall, one of my favorite times of year.

Peace.