The Child

 By:- Stephen Fuller (S Francis)
June 19, 1986
Bullets pierce and echo the air
Villagers abandon their flaming homes
The king cannot see, only the Lord sees
Reasons do not matter as bloodshed begins
 
On a hilltop the one flag quivers in the wind
Tears pour into the Child’s innocent eyes
His brother has died in the flames of war-
Horror from what was once so grand
 
Unnoticed, underfoot our freedom drifts
We, sightless, block our ears from the Child’s wail
His father has died in the ocean of war
Only to be as us- free
 
The fire rages across the countryside
The Child is shot in his tears
The memory of his brother burns
The memory of his father drowns
 
One man fills his jars with tears
His son fills dreams with fears
Both are dead, burned by lead
Nothing left, there is no son
 
Nothing left, there is no village
At dawn the flames consumed the last morsel
On a hillside the one flag quivers
The stars shine, the bullets pierce the air
 
We bury the Child under the flag
His father would have won the flag
They bled too long for
A reason too wrong
 
Bullets pierce and echo the air
The village burnt to the ground
Does any flesh mourn the Child?
Oh Lord…
 
Reasons do not matter when innocence sheds blood.

The responsibility for the opinions expressed in the article belongs exclusively to the author. 

When Beauty Disappears :(

By: Monica Pana

Last year I’ve presented to you the Tulip Symphony from Herăstrău Park. A Splendor in the Grass. A beauty that takes your breath away. A joy to the soul.
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mopana-tulip-09
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mopana-tulip-04
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mopana-tulip-02
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This year I present you nothing. Because it no longer exists. Because nobody is interested in anything. Because in their pursuit to death, people forget to enjoy and to enjoy others.
Because… what is beautiful… always disappears 😦
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It’s a shame!

Note: The copyrights on the article belong to the author. The responsibility for the opinions expressed in the article belongs exclusively to the author. Please visit her site, look around! to read more of Monica’s fine work!

The Dreams of Coronus

 By:- Stephen Fuller (S Francis)
 
May 25, 1986
Looking up from below
He stands high above me
I search in the heavens
As the world will see
Wherever I search
He stands beside me
His hands support my soul
The dreams of Coronus
The dream of Peace
He watches
He understands
I feel the presence of Heaven


The responsibility for the opinions expressed in the article belongs exclusively to the author. 

Redwood Summer Part I Chapter 1

By:- Robert Kirkendall

For Mom and Dad

The ball I threw while playing in the park

Has not yet reached the ground

-Dylan Thomas

 

SAN JOSE, CA 1990

Was it all just too good to be true? Jason was in the passenger seat of a work truck as he reflected on the life changing events of the previous few months.  He looked out across the austere expanse of Silicon Valley, one and two story concrete tilt-ups in a grid of pavement, as the truck passed one building after another.  I had a good job with room to grow, Jason recalled, I had all my friends, Christine and I didn’t have a care in the world. How did it all change so fast? Jason lamented, then wondered if all the good times were gone.  The morning sun was above the eastern Mount Hamilton range and shone across the late autumn sky.  The faceless buildings cast shadows on half filled parking lots and dry landscaping.

“So what do you think about all this?” Hal asked from the driver’s seat.

“Huh?”  Jason was knocked off his train of thought.

“You know, what’s going on in the Persian Gulf.  They’ve been talking about it on the radio all morning.”

“Oh, I guess I wasn’t paying attention.”  Jason once again noticed the news talk over the radio. He was a little annoyed at the interruption, then wondered how long his mind was somewhere else.

“Don’t you follow the news?  This is going to be major.”

“Of course.  I was just thinking about some other stuff.”

“We may soon be going to war,” Hal emphasized.  “What’s more important than that?”

“Look, I hear ya,” Jason agreed, “but I got other things on my mind right now.”

“More important than what’s going on?”

“Maybe not, but it’s important to me.”  Jason sensed Hal’s waiting for an answer. “You know, personal stuff.”  He tried to hold onto the series of memories he was thinking of as he waited for the intrusion to end.

“Okay, I won’t pry. But you might want to start paying attention to what’s going on. I’m too old to be drafted, but you aren’t.”

“No one’s been drafted in years,” Jason replied. “I’m not worried about that.”

“Well if things gets worse, you’ll hear about it,” Hal warned.

“No doubt,” Jason said reflexively.  They drove along further through the maze of nondescript structures.

“Well, maybe it’ll be good for the economy.  Wars usually are,” Hal pointed out.

“Yeah, as long as you don’t get killed.”

“Serious.  Look around this valley, all these tech businesses, they were built on orders of the Defense Department.  And with the Cold War over we need something new to keep the wheels turning.”

Hal continued to talk as Jason looked out the window in thought.  He tried to focus on the day and the job ahead, but the past kept drawing him in.  When did it all start to change? he wondered, the year started out really good, every weekend was a party, I was working toward my A.A.  Jason then remembered how credit card bills suddenly piled up at around the same time the rent on the house he was sharing went up.  When was that, he pondered, April? May?  He then remembered how his parents let him move back home so he could pay off his debt quicker, and how he told himself, and everyone else, at the time that it was only to be temporary situation, and everyone agreed.  But he also couldn’t help but be bothered by the idea that it was a step backward.

Jason leaned back in his seat and rested his arm on the window frame. Did my life already hit its peak? he worried, and does that mean all downhill from here?  His memory searched from the beginning of the year onward, then focused on a company meeting at his last job, not long after he moved back home, but when life were still happy.  That was a good day, he thought. They said everything was looking up, and the future was only going to get better. We were true believers.

Jason thought back to that day.


The responsibility for the opinions expressed in the article belongs exclusively to the author. 

Redwood Summer is a novel by the author Robert Kirkendall,  which takes place in the Silicon Valley during 1990. Stay connected for more chapters and updates. Also visit his wonderful website for his further creative works.

UNDER THE TREES

By:- Kim blades, writer

Under the trees fallen leaves
blowing through the grass
dance to please the wind,
while the gold stillness
of the afternoon sun
warms the fields
with the scent of hay.

Under the trees
meandering streamlets flow
water cold and clear
over flat smooth stones
mottled grey as a pigeon’s breast
soft water baths
for the wood nymphs.

Under the trees
all nature seems at work
living freely and cohesively
languid Summer, colourful Autumn
brittle Winter, honeyed Spring
lulled by birdsong sweetly sung
all year long.

Under the trees
sit young girls dreaming
of true love’s pure flame
burning noble and bright
fuelled by our earthly origins
it reads and translates
the language of the heart –

under the trees.


The responsibility for the opinions expressed in the article belongs exclusively to the author.