Tags
creative writing, drawing, dreams, light, memory, poem, poems, poetry, sketch, stained glass
dreams and memories
are similar to me
i see your face in both nether light
and stained-glass memory
(sketch by a. l. anzalone)
30 Wednesday Aug 2023
Tags
creative writing, drawing, dreams, light, memory, poem, poems, poetry, sketch, stained glass
dreams and memories
are similar to me
i see your face in both nether light
and stained-glass memory
(sketch by a. l. anzalone)
19 Saturday Aug 2023
Posted Fairy tales, Mythology, Poetry, Writing
inwhile a storm is brewing
and drawing near
this is my moment of sunshine
and soft warm air
that flows through my hair
while others take refuge
and wait out the storm
i settle on a rock
and listen to the roar
hoping and wishing for more
(illustration by a. l. anzalone)
17 Thursday Aug 2023
Tags
I think of this sometimes, I’m not sure why: a news item about a lost dog and a young man who lived at the turn of the twentieth century. I saw a brief newspaper story about them while scrolling through an old newspaper reel looking for something else entirely. Why my eyes fell on this irrelevant story, irrelevant to my purpose at the time, I don’t know. But I stopped to read it and the story has stayed with me to this day. It’s a sad story. I will state that clearly here for those who probably know I tend to write about sad, depressing things, but so be it. You can stop reading at this point, if you wish. But for me the story has such resonance and meaning and poignancy beyond its simple narrative. The boy was 18. He had lost his dog. He was new in town. Had probably come to L.A. to start his life. Nothing was said about where he came from. It was an acquaintance who related the story. The person said, the boy looked all over town for his dog. It was his best friend. When he couldn’t find the dog, he committed suicide. So the report was about the boy’s suicide and the supposed reason behind it. As I said, the story was very brief. Just the facts, no mention of other problems that may have been factors. What stood out for me were the basic elements: the lost dog, someone saying “it was his best friend,” and the frantic searching that ended in the boy’s suicide. It hit me hard, and it still does to this day. For only a few years later, I lost both of my dogs, one after the other, through unfortunate circumstances (a botched fatal dental cleaning and the subsequent decline in her little pup’s health), and my memory reached back to this story, to the feeling that dogs can literally be your best friend, that a suicide can result from their loss. I’m not being dramatic here, and I’m well aware that such a confession may be pathetic to some. But in all honesty, I understood this boy. And I think a few others will as well. That is not to say that I am thinking of suicide. Don’t get me wrong. What I mean to say is that a dog and any companion animal can be so linked to a person’s sense of self and well-being that the loss can be that overwhelming. In other words, an animal-human bond can be as deep as any purely human bond. Scoff, if you will, those who think this is pathetic (read here a close relative of mine). But as I said, I believe some will understand.
14 Monday Aug 2023
07 Monday Aug 2023
Posted Dreams, Short story, Spirit, Stories from underground, Story poem, Writing
inTags
creative writing, dream, flash fiction, microfiction, poem, poems, poetry, story
i didn’t know what to bring and only started to think about packing a few items just after learning about the journey. it was all very confusing and so my mind bounced from one idea to the next without committing to any of them. the small suitcase i had flung onto the carpeted floor remained open throughout my dithering with nothing thrown in it. i mean, what do you bring for the next world? and why is it you have to bring anything at all?
in the meantime, i was trying to ascertain the journey details and the means of conveyance. you could say, in short, i was in a precarious and nebulous situation. moreover, i didn’t remain in one place while fretting over all of this. i somehow made it to an airport only to find out that no planes were arriving for me. and yet i also knew a deadline was fast approaching.
my anxiety, of course, was at an all-time high, and to make matters worse, i still didn’t know what this was all about, this journey, this deadline, this ultimate destination. when i finally awoke, with some relief, i realized i didn’t have to worry anymore. there was no need to pack, make decisions, do anything at all. and yet i remained awake long after, sorting through the details and rearranging them like flowers on a tomb.