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

“Vision-quest” By Raymond Roy. #poetry #flashfiction

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 my feet and begin to dream.

Native boy on vision-quest, by the pool to have a rest.

Sacred forest clean and pure, my quest is it’s protection , I must secure.

Leaving my refuge keenly aware, it’s not only I but, trees need care.

Word Count-99

Written for 99-Word Flash Fiction hosted by Charli at the Carrot Ranch Thanks Charli!

Peace .

“Spam” by Raymond Roy

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 wrong with me? Micro-electric shocks shoot from the base of my cerebellum up to my cortex. Ringing in my ears.

Deep breaths..walking out the side entrance. The breeze felt good. I leaned my cheek against the cool ceramic tile.

Lighting a smoke, drawing so hard, a rogue tobacco shred sparked through the paper.

Back in the office .

“Bing bong” chimes the intercom.

“Time for meds gentlemen.””Please line up”.

In line.

Mr. Springer walking out, stopped to talk with Mark the security guard.

“How you doing Mark?”

“Pretty good Dr. Springer, You?”

“Not bad. “Would you keep an eye on Jacob? “He’s been sitting at a desk staring blankly at the wall, going on about Spam emails.”

“Sure Thing Doc!”

Word Count-175

I have heard the expression perhaps for songwriting, “you write what you know”. I feel this holds true in story writing, fiction or non-fiction. I cannot think of too many people, including myself, that haven’t been somehow touched by mental health issues. Perhaps not full blown paranoia but, stress, anxiety/panic attacks, With information overload, 24 hour feeds…..just as our bodies need a healthy diet, so do our minds. For me, an escape is writing which challenges me on “what I know” and “where I stand”, rather than switching to a zombie scrolling mode copying and pasting the opinions of others.

Be well my Friends

Peace.

Written for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers host by our gracious host, Priceless Joy thanks Joy.

Photo Credit to Enisa. Thank you!

“Gratitude” by Raymond Roy

Gratitude                                  For all that brings joy and for the challenges that shape me.

Gratitude connects me to the best life has to offer..

To my family, friend and foe alike, I wish you peace this day. Amen

-Goroyboy

“Capture the day” Photo by Raymond Roy

“It’s Been Awhile” by Raymond Roy


It’s been a while since I was on my knees….

Just as I thought the world is only getting colder,
Bowing my head, I felt the weight of the world off my shoulders. 

It reminded me humility waits patiently, but opens the door on bended knee,

as thankfulness, comes naturally. 
Clasped hands pressed together in this place

Reminded me to seek, a state of grace. 
As I finished, 

I had a stubborn smile as I remembered, it had been a while……..It’s been a while since I was on my knees. 

Peace. 

“In The Clench”

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Growing up with an older brother in the 70s meant I came to experience  a phenomenon called, “The Clench”.
It was the privilege of being cornered and subjected to a series machine gun punches in the stomach while he yelled,”Muhammad Ali, Frasier”, “In The Clench”… For dessert a few breadbasket and head shots…I could not escape.

Over the years I discovered “The Clench” had taken up new residence. Looking down at my own hand,  There it was, A  tightly clenched fist. White knuckled with stress, anxiety, anger, worry,  A five fingered barometer of silent storms raging inside. Such is life, internal storms, wrought with an intense feeling of wanting revenge on those who had hurt, abused or neglected me.
I could not escape….

When I was 16, while my Dad drove truck, I would ride shotgun. I remember his tattooed hand resting on the gear shifter, his last two digits permanently curved. His fingers had been damaged as a result of smashing his hand through a drivers side car window during one of his many altercations. He chose to fight. His closed fist meant he wasn’t open to a discussion.
Given his life story, it was not surprising

Historically an open hand was a sign of peace. When you approached an unknown, showing and raising an open hand demonstrated that you bore no weapon and meant no harm.

Even Christs’ open hands as decpicted in Byzantine art, with the thumb and first two fingers open and last two digits  just slightly closed emerged as the sign of a blessing.

Look down at your hand. Is your fist tight? Deep down is your spirit silently screaming “I’ve had enough “?

May I propose that an open hand can not only symbolize peace but also a willingness to surrender.

Surrender my friend. Surrender all the burdens that weigh you down

Breathe in slowly. Breathe out.

Surrender. Take a moment and drop your weapon and open your hands and experience a moment of peace.
Take a moment to know that no matter what is going on in your life, you are alive and worthy of love.

An open hand is a sign of acceptance of reality. It doesn’t mean you have to like the circumstances. It simply means you are willing to deal with them.

As a believer in the teachings of Christ , I’ve found the simple act of opening my hands and raising them during worship, creates a conduit which allows the stresses of the world to escape. When I open my hands, I open my mind and eventually perhaps symbolically open my  heart to experience Gods Holy Spirit of Love for which I beieve we were created.

Be still and know He is God. Psalm 46:10
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