Should She

(Photo copyright Dan Felstead of Wood and Pixel Narratives)

SHOULD SHE
The afternoon sun brightens the forest,
just before it hits the horizon;
a small doe timidly steps onto
the crushed gravel road.

Should she cross this barren terrain,
or should she retreat to safety?
Prepare to leap if danger encroaches,
she steps into the road.

Cornfield

(Photo copyright Dan Felstead of Wood and Pixel Narratives)

CORNFIELD
The cornfield, slowing starting to yellow,
neglected in the darkening sky
as grass and storm clouds move in.

Or maybe the yellowing corn
is near the outer fields
as the storm has passed away.

Birdhouses

(Photo copyright Dan Felstead of Wood and Pixel Narratives)

BIRDHOUSESThe birdhouses line the vivid blue fence
all different sizes, all different colors,
awaiting families them all.

Robins and wrens,
bluebirds and finches,
swallows and a woodpecker or two.

What lovely homes they appear to be
how I wish I was a little birdie
to make my home cozy and sound.

The Barn

(Photo copyright Dan Felstead of Wood and Pixel Narratives)

THE BARN




The big barn down the lane

sit under the thunderheads,

waiting for rain and all of the wind

secure and sturdy he stands.



The big barn down the lane

has passed a century old;

well-kept and well-loved

outliving the creators hands.



The big barn down the lane

beautiful in a majestic way;

lumber is worn, hinges are frayed

but confidence is always portrayed.

The Sycamore Tree

(Photo copyright Dan Felstead of Wood and Pixel Narratives)

THE SYCAMORE TREE


The Sycamore protects the house
with long, lean limbs of white;
so old with age, it’s hard to say
how much longer she will be around.

The Sycamore looms not in the horizon,
but in the side yard of the house;
sheltering the house in summer
but leaving anxiety with the cold wind.

The Sycamore tree, a friend a foe,
stands tall above the land;
how long will she last, is it her time to go
or will she reign as Queen of them all?

Shambles

SHAMBLES

A summer storm has subsided
and all is quiet,
but there are continued hints of clandestine gloom.
Everything is now in ruins
and an ever growing mystery
is leading to a new event,
drawing us closer to catastrophe.





(Photo by Dan Felstead of Wood and Pixels Narratives)

Fear

(Photo by Dan Felstead of Wood and Pixel Narratives)

FEAR

There is a stillness in the darkness
enveloping the world,
fear stalks the living.

A pale, peaceful moon illuminates
the great expanse of lawn,
but the barn upon it will know no peace
because of disappointment leading to terror;
a welcoming touch that can cause death or destruction.

It is dusk and faint rays of light come down
to creep across the silent meadows and fields;

secrets, secrets that could cost a life.

The sun has gone down and the night seems
darker
lonelier than before
and we live with the fear.

Nothing

(Photo by Dan Felstead of "Wood and Pixel Narratives")

NOTHING

When you're in love at 17,
you think you know everything.
It's not until you're 47,
so you realize you know nothing.

The Night Has Ended

This is another poem inspired by a photo by Dan Felstead of Wood and Pixel Narratives.)



THE NIGHT HAS ENDED



Frightening sight, an apparition from the past,
even by day can be immensely dangerous place,
with many unsolved mysteries and grave danger.
Determined to seek out the truth,
a secret from the past
which can force things once thought long gone,
thus could make things happen even though we have
difficult decision to decide our path of existence.
Streaks of red, the color of blood, mix with rain the color of the sky
Chase away the sunset, bringing forth the dawn,
but it is like the day would end up with a horrible death
even though the shimmering reflection offers the peace of day,
the sunset usually offers
a raging night could end with a horrible death.

Mysteries

(This photo is copyright of Dan Felstead of Wood and Pixel Narratives. Although it doesn't exactly match the tone of the poem, the color are breathtaking. The "...great estate of an enormous heart..." could be the Church - use your own interpretation.)

MYSTERIES



Night clouds hang over the fast approaching dawn,
still holding the dark captive, under the light of the moon.
Twin evils revel a danger with the largest house,
the great estate of an enormous heart,
feeling trapped, a prisoner,
like a women from the dead, come to life,
but seeking the warmth and life from the living.
The light from the moon continues to gleam in the night mist
and it is here an imaginable paranoia intrudes;
time for the woman to follow a new destiny.
It is a strange and disturbing time,
trapped, chained,
unable to follow the different fates or
to what will happen from one life to the other.
Her secrets are now in danger,
no longer able to penetrate the disguise,
unaware of the dangers.
The night continues toward lighter hours,
ancient knowledge,
multiple mysteries,
warping the bands of time to cross the plain,
leaving behind the troubled curse weighing heavy on her mind.
The sun rises blood red at dawn
hanging almost frightful over the countryside.
And even as the dark passes, the mysteries remain
the web has been spun with terror and mystery
as the fissures continue to expand into ever-deepening whispers.

Farther From the Truth

(Photo by Dan Felstead of Wood and Pixel Narratives)

FARTHER FROM THE TRUTH

Nothing more than a scarred piece of wood you say,
nonsense, nothing could be farther from the truth.
A damaged piece of useless lumber you say,
nonsense, nothing could be farther from the truth.
Don't you see it? Look beyond the scratches, cuts and nicks;
"JB" - JB was someone, not just a nothing in the wood.
Permanently itched and preserved for all time,
JB could have been Jenny Buchanan,
the pretty little girl from down the lawn;
braided brown hair with a gap in her front teeth,
she was never without her jump rope and a Kool-Aide smile.
Or may it is Joe Bob, the farmer boy from Possie Holler,
with freckles on his pale white face and hair of fiery red;
always willing to help a farmer in need with hoeing or plowing and such.
It could have been the beginning of star crossed lovers,
Justina Bell loves ... interrupted, unfinished, unknown.
Nonsense my friends, this is not just nothing,
though Generation X may think so'
it's not a Facebook icon or a Twittered tweet,
just immortality carved in wood,
an old-fashioned social network that has gone the way
of written letters and long phone conversations lasting deep into the night.

Voices From the Yesteryear

(Photo by Dan Felstead of Wood and Pixel Narratives)



VOICES FROM THE YESTERYEAR

The old homestead still stands,
'thou no longer in its prime;
surrounded by memories of old.
But the band of tension is tighter,
as strong fingers of the past
grip firmly around the present.

Memories never completely die
as long as there is one to remember,
they only fade with time,
waiting …
waiting for a sight or scent or touch
to pull the past forward again.

Reminiscences are fickle things
floating in and out at will,
flashing back in retrospect
as the subconscious tries to catch up;
they can haunt one's mind with flights of fancy,
or drag them back to the pits of despair.

Voices from the yesteryear whispers through the mind,
carefully writing the essay of life,
registering the extraordinary occurrences,
but monographing the ordinary as well.
Pulling back the sleeve of time
to connect the past with the living.

Memories are a reminder of mortality
the proof we all must face,
verifying the times gone by
like suspicions on the wind;
and nostalgia promises a keepsake,
calling out with tokens from the past.

The Barn Loft

(Photo by Dan Felstead of Wood and Pixel Narratives)

THE BARN LOFT

I stand now silent and still,
a forgotten remnant from the past.
Once the farming lifeline,
now fading away, left to rot and decay,
taking the last essence of country soul.

Look closely upon my old, scarred walls,
past faded wood and splinters;
I wear my wounds deeply,
initials and names carved with care,
reminding but a few what is lost.

My ladder now too rickety
to support the weight of men,
but I’ve held great weights indeed
upon my sturdy shoulders,
sustenance for vital lives.

Will I be remembered in the coming centuries?
Or is my core done lost?
I want to be loved again,
can’t you see my potential?
Or am I just a lowly loft, forgotten and alone?

God's Face

(Photo by Dan Felstead of Wood and Pixel Narratives)

GOD'S FACE

I saw God’s face today,
peaking from behind the clouds,
golden rays of happiness beams,
glittering to the ground.

I watched in awe
from my earthly bounds,
as the sunshine washed my face,
and dreamed of a time
when he would take me home
to his palace far away.

The Empire State of Jade

Believe it or not, this is the first snipet of Jade I've written in 2K10. She is still in the front of my mind, but I've had trouble getting her on the page. Once again, this photo by Dan Felstead of Wood and Pixel Narratives has inspired my muse.

So, I'm proud to present ...

THE EMPIRE STATE OF JADE

Jade stood on the sidewalk and looked up at the towering sculpture in the sky. Since coming to Earth, she had spent all of her time in San Fransisco. But since Devan's death, she had been floundering, unsure of the direction of her mission.

When the "spaceship crisis" finally passed, and officials wrote it off as a "secret military project," Jade decided she needed to visit other areas of Earth before her time was us. New York was just one stop in her year-long track across North America; there was still other continents to explore.

Looking up at the enormity of the Empire State Building, Jade was overcome with emotions. The thick fog encircling the top portion of the building reminded her so much of home, she was suddenly overcome with a wave of homesickness. Although Jadacon was a planet in near desert conditions, the swirling sands surrounding all the buildings looked just like the moist fog hanging over New York. Of course, the fog was different from the over layering clock of smog that was always present over San Fransisco.

"I've only got two more years before my mission is over," thought Jade. "There is just so much more to see and learn."

As she walked the crowded streets, she was amazed at the differences in the people in this hustle-bustle town compared to the laid back life-style of San Fransiscans. Here, everyone was in a hurry, racing from one place to another. Cars, trucks and yellow cabs choked the roads with honking horns, screeching brakes and yelled obscenities.

As she got closer to the Empire State Building, Jade found a small park and sat down on a bench facing the soaring building. "Devan, I never thought I could miss a human so much." Sadness overwhelmed her as her mind drifted away from her ten-year mission and settled over an image of home.

Home - seemed like a million miles away, and I guess in a way, it really was.

The Keys

(Photo by Dan Felstead of Wood and Pixel Narratives)

The Keys

The keys have locked away my heart

inside a special wrapping,

it waits alone

for the one I love

to keep it everlasting.

Wood and Pixels

If you haven't checked out my friend, Dan Felstead's, photography blog - Wood and Pixels Narratives - you really should take the time. Dan takes some of the most unusual and beautiful photographs. I like him so much because he always takes pictures of the things I enjoy looking at. Leave him a comment and tell him what you think - and check out his archive of older photos. He has never failed to inspire my muse to writing projects!

Jade on the Run

(Photo copyright by Dan Felstead of Wood and Pixels Narratives)

JADE ON THE RUN

Jade had been on the run for several days. After the invasion started in San Francisco, she had fled to the moutains, hoping to hid until the violence had settled. Stumbly through the woods she was exhausted, having only slept in short bursts and never anywhere comfortable. On the fourth day of her escape, she came upon a small wooden cabin in the woods. She observed the cabin for many hours, but there seemed to be on life in or around the cabin. Swallowing her fear, she finally approached the cabin.

As Jade slowly creaked the wooden door open, she felt like she had stepped through a portal in time, back to another century, another day, another era. The one-room log cabin was small, barely big enough to hold the diminutive bed in one corner and a straight back chair in the other, next to the rock fireplace.

The cabin smelled musty from lack of air circulation - there were no windows, only an occasional hole in the wall, supposedly to aim a rifle through. Jade had studied about the early history of American since beginning her mission on Earth. The sunlight from the doorway cast just enough light to see the bed and what few meager possessions were on or around it.

The first thing Jade noted was the worn and faded nine-patch quilt covering the bed, neatly tucked in around the sparse mattress and pillow. At first glance, she assumed the occupant of the cabin must be a woman because the bed was made, but on closer inspection, she noticed the worn hunting boots hanging on a peg from the wall. There was also a pale leather coat draped over a bottom post of the bed; like looked like it was made from a tanned deer hide.

"It could be a woman," she thought, "but my intuition says it's a man."

Hanging from several other pegs around the bed were several different herbs gathered in small bundles along with several small willow branches. She smiled to herself, "He's pretty smart." Jade knew from her own learnings, willow branches will help bring down a fever and calm minor aches and pains. She also noticed camphor leaves to ease inflammed joints, yarrow for cuts and scrapes, and plantain for burns.

"He has some first aid knowledge, I'll give him that."

Two handwoven baskets sat on a raised wooden trunk at the foot of the bed. One basket was full of wool that had already been spun into yarn. She walked over and fingered the course fiber. "Fairly clean, he must know how to clean and card wool." The second basket held a pair of crude knitting needles, carved from ash wood by the looks. The needles had been smoothed down with no rough edges or gouges to snag the wool. There were also a pair of socks, although one was slightly larger than the other.

Jade sat down on the edge of the bed and ran her fingers over the quilt. She marveled at the fine even stitches and knew this kind of work took a steady hand. As she adjusted herself on the bed, she realized the mattress was probably stuffed with prairies grass because she could hear the crinkling even through the ticking and the quilt. She turned to read the small plaque hanging on the wall.

"But where shall wisdom be found? And where is the place of understanding?" Job 28:12

A religious man, understandable in this godforsaken place.

She stood up and walked to the dresser on the far wall. A small basket help a few knick-knacks; a wooden thimble, a couple of hickory nuts, two smooth river rocks and a dull coin, too dull to make out what kind. A shaving razor, strap and a broken metal comb rested in a used metal can. A pair of mittens and a knitted scarf lay atop a mirror fashioned from a scrape of wood and a flattened piece of metal. She picked up the mirror and looked at her warped reflection, finding this one bit of vanity a rare oddity in this meager cabin.

There was a old, faded photo hanging above the dresser. The black and white image showed a vital, handsome young man with his arms around a very pregnant woman. They were both smiling - they looked happy. Tucked into the edge of the wooden frame was a dried daisy, brown with age and missing a few petals.

"Wonder who this is?" she thought. "Could this be the man who lives in this cabin? Maybe that's his wife ... maybe there are two people living here ..." Jade looked around the cabin, but she could only sense the presence of one person living here. "Maybe the woman died," she looked at the picture again, focusing on the woman's pregnant belly. "Maybe she died in childbirth?"

Suddenly, she saw a shadow looming in the doorway of the cabin and as she turned to see what it was, the door to the cabin slammed shut ...

...to be continued ...

Dan's Mack Truck

(Photo by Dan Felstead of Wood and Pixels Narratives)

This photo gives a whole new meaning to the saying:

"I feel like I was run over by a Mack truck!"

Jade and the Boarding House

(Photo by Dan Felstead of Wood and Pixels Narratives)

JADE AND THE BOARDING HOUSE

Jade stood in front of the house, her black almond shaped eyes squinting up at the fading yellow siding. 2317 South Olin Drive - this must be the place, she thought.

Since arriving to Earth two weeks ago, Jade had been living in a local motel, a ratty little place out by the waterfront. She had been trying to blend in and not draw attention to herself, but her choice of living accommodations had had the opposite effect. All the Earthlings she had met so far couldn't understand why she was living in such a bad neighborhood in such a bad place.

She had been given the name of a boarding house a few miles away, so now Jade was standing in front of the 3-story house. It was unimposing and actually looked shabbier than the rest of the houses on the quiet street, but she had been assured that Mrs. Maple Mills was a respectable woman with a respectable boarding house.

Jade opened the creaky black iron gate and stepped onto the cracked sidewalk, closing the gate behind her. On the wide front porch, she surveyed the neat flower pots, the wicker porch furniture and the wicker swing hanging in the far corner. Looks like a quiet place to rest and think, Jade mumble under her breath.

Standing before the double front door, Jade rang the glowing doorbell and heard the harsh ringing from deep inside the house. When no one immediately answered the door, Jade rapped on the peeling green door face and then stepped away from the door.

"Just a minute - I'm coming! I'm an old woman - give me a chance to get there." The voice got louder until the front door finally opened.

"Give me a break, young lady! I'm not as spry as I used to be," said the plumb lady in front of her. Jade tried to suppress a laugh. Of all the photographs of Earthlings she had seen during her training for the Earth mission, Jade had never seen such a woman. Coming up only to Jade's shoulders - when Jade had her glamour in full force (without her glamour, the woman would only come up to Jade's belly button) - this petite, chunky woman gave off aura of maternal love. It was oozing from her pores and Jade immediately felt at ease.

"Pretty young thing - you must be Jade. Come in, come in. Hectore Raynes told me you might be showing up." Hectore was the coffee shop owner where Jade had eaten her breakfast every day since arriving to Earth. "He said you were a sweet young thing and I wouldn't be sorry for taking you in. I'm Maple Mills, of course - just call me Maple. What brings you to San Francisco?"

"I'm taking a year off from college to see the world," was Jade's rehearsed reply. She had been given enough Earth money to sustain her while on her 10 year mission, so having a convenient cover story warded off any unnecessary questions.

"And what's brings you to our fair city?" Maple had the eyes of a hawk, and Jade got the impression this woman would immediately know if she were lying.

"I ... I've heard a lot about San Francisco. There's lots of opportunity to observe the arts and try to decide what I want to do with my life." Jade looked the woman in the eyes, willing her to believe the story.

"Hmmm - you're not a street walker, a prostitute - I won't abide by that kind of behavior in my home. No, sir, I run a respectable boarding house." Maple put her plumb hands on her amble hips.

"No, ma'am! I have a small trust from my parents, and I'll be looking for work," said Jade, reciting the cover story. "Respectable work, ma'am - I promise."

"Well, you seem to be telling the truth. But if I find out otherwise, I'll toss you out faster than you can say 'Bob's your uncle'. You got that?" She stabbed a pointed finger into Jade's chest and it was all Jade could do not to recoil in fear.

"Y ... ye ... yes, ma'am. I understand," stammered Jade.

"Good! I think we're going to get along just fine. Come on, I'll show you your room." Maple turned and headed up the narrow staircase, and Jade followed.

This was the being of a long relationship that would last the entire time Jade was on Earth.