A tear touched the still surface Ripples began to spread I forced my hand against the motion to stop the ripples from reaching the edge Shed unexpectedly without thought Nonetheless recognized - again Not wanting the tear to move or flow wishing it to be buried and drowned unseen The wave rose and crested Falling hard upon the sands of loss Grimacing with bared teeth The pain slipped and fell in the wet sand Pebbles beneath worn shoes Find their way into holes in the heart Sharing past lives lived in sun filled days Undefined measures of time tossed Touch when unaccustomed, burns Skin tender and bruised with mistrust A hand extends to grasp another outstretched Find the gesture was given to another The tear would not be stopped Ripples spread with rapid steps Dashed now against the edge A bowl of water inches deep
Posts tagged ‘writing’
Check out my interview with FRANCIS XAVIER at Examiner.com where we chat about my new book A Bell For Andy. Here’s the link to the interview: http://www.examiner.com/article/writer-gl-roberts-discusses-her-new-book-a-bell-for-andy
And check out Xavier’s other articles and interviews at http://www.examiner.com/fringe-artists-in-los-angeles/francis-xavier.
Thanks Xavier!! And thank you to all my blog followers. Without YOU I’m not possible. :)
What made me think that this was any different
than all the times
Promises never made but implied is the mistake
I make over and over
I listen but never really hear when the words
change to leave me
I give my heart every time and it beats
hard in my chest for
float lightly on broad shoulders
My current work in progress is a F/F fantasy romance set in the highlands of Scotland when dragons ruled the air, marauders ruled the north sea, and kings were a dime a dozen. The Heroine, Bryn, a young woman from a displaced Druid clann, comes into her own while wielding a sword to protect her love, the Princess Thalynder; thoroughly unaware that she is a Princess in her own right. The two women, accompanied by a Captain of the King’s Royal Guard and the Princess Thalynder’s Dragon Meydra, set off on a journey to the Standing Stones of Stenness, located on the island of Orkney. On the island, Bryn hopes to find answers to her questions about her ancestors and why they left the island. Princess Thalynder hopes the journey will bring out her own true love, unaware of Bryn’s love. Dancing between friendship, sex, and love, the two learn things about themselves that bring them closer together, only to discover a secret, set in the ancient Stones, that will change their lives forever.
Excerpt from Shieldmaiden
The sun was beginning to rise and the day promised to be clear and warm. Meydra was awake long before the sun cleared the horizon and sat very still while her two charges slept peacefully against her chest. Bryn was holding Thalynder and sometime during the night their legs and arms became entwined. They both looked quite content. Meydra smiled at the two and wondered if she should tell them the quest would be in vain. She knew where Thalynder’s true love could be found, but she also knew that Bryn wanted desperately to see the Stones at Stenness. The problem did not lie with the true love, it lie with the Stones. In Stenness, Bryn would learn the truth about who she was and why she had to give up her dragon. Meydra was not sure she was ready to tell that story to Bryn. It would change many things and for the moment, Meydra liked things the way they were. No, she decided, “I will not tell them.”
“Tell us what?” Bryn asked quietly.
“That the sun rises and you will be missed in the Keep,” Meydra whispered.
Bryn hugged Thalynder closer to her. “I like it right here,” she said.
“So do I,” Thalynder replied with a little morning yawn. Thalynder turned in Bryn’s arms to face her bedmate. After a momentary hesitation and a little inhale of breath, Thalynder kissed Bryn’s mouth.
Bryn felt Thalynder’s mouth on hers and her body immediately responded. She pulled Thalynder tight against her and slipped her hand behind Thalynder’s neck. She returned the kiss, letting it linger until Thalynder wanted her to stop. She moaned softly against Thalynder’s mouth.
Thalynder broke the kiss, but did not move. She looked at Bryn and smiled, then reached up and ran her hand over Bryn’s neck. “You are blushing my Bryn,” Thalynder said.
“That was a nice kiss, Lynder,” Bryn replied, and took Thalynder’s hand in hers. “Why did you kiss me?”
“Because you looked so soft and beautiful in the dim light,” Thalynder said. “And, I’ve never kissed a woman before.”
“Neither have I,” Bryn said. Her voice was soft and her lips wet, and she realized that her mouth was not the only thing that was wet. She blushed again, and felt the need to tack a different direction. “Have you kissed a man?”
“Yes, many times,” Thalynder laughed. “The male attendants my father had chosen to be my playmates when I was younger were anything but chaste.” Her breath touched Bryn’s face. “Have you not kissed a man, Bryn?”
“Only once,” Bryn replied. “It was part of my instruction.”
“Oh, yes, I forgot, you druids have other areas of instruction,” Thalynder said and now her voice was thick. “Someday you should instruct me.” She leaned up and kissed Bryn again, this time she pushed her hand against Bryn’s breast.
Bryn’s body responded before she could think. She returned the kiss with more desire, allowing her tongue to brush Thalynder’s lips. She arched her back and pushed her breast hard against Thalynder’s hand, and ran her bare foot up Thalynder’s leg. They continued to kiss and when Bryn moved to touch Thalynder’s neck, and began to undo the laces at the top of her dress, Thalynder abruptly stopped.
“No, my Bryn,” Thalynder said. “Enough instruction for one day.” Thalynder moved to sit up, and put back on her shoes.
Bryn rose to sit next to Thalynder. She was winded from the excitement of having Thalynder in her arms, but began to realize it was all a game to Thalynder. Thalynder’s inquisitive nature, her persistent quest for adventure; were her only feelings for Bryn at that moment. Bryn sighed. Something she had dreamt of doing for many years had happened, and it was all a game. She lifted her tunic off the ground and shook it out before placing it over her head. She got it over her head, and then stood with her back resting against Meydra. Thalynder was standing at Meydra’s tail looking out over the grassy meadow between garden and Keep. Bryn looked longingly at Thalynder’s back. “At least I held her close,” she whispered.
Thalynder turned to look back at Bryn. “Come on Bryn, I’m hungry and we have to prepare for our journey.”
Bryn kissed Meydra’s cheek and heard the little moan of pleasure as it rose deep inside Meydra’s throat. She patted her shoulder, then trotted after Thalynder. She glanced back over her shoulder as she walked under the linden arch, and watched as Meydra lifted effortlessly into the air; the only sound coming from the wind as it moved beneath her wings.
They come home every day and like cattle queue up for position
Empty blank faces look as they do not
See the body standing in front of them
The belly of the beast
Oft told of old, transporting them to the dimly lit
Semblances of normalcy like the others own
But cannot abide to live in
So far from the pasture
The sun hits their faces and they adjust the lens
Covering the black holes with filtered vision
Moving forward as one long snaked appendage
With multiple heads
Mulling over the days between, short flights
Filled full with noises and numbing speed
Racing to another weekend
Of days too close together
Moving from a rural farming community to a suburb replete with conveniences like a coffee shop within walking distance and mass transit easily accessible, I am amazed when after nine months, I still have not met a single neighbor in my apartment complex. A large enough complex with seven buildings, a common area, a pool, and a fitness center, and still no one speaks. Head nods are the equivalent of hello. Averted eyes are the accustomed signal ~ do not disturb. When circumstances gave me options of where I would move when leaving the farming community, I chose what I thought was a well balanced suburb of a major city. Where jobs would be more readily available, and people would be gregarious and accessible. Boy, was I ever wrong. Don’t get me wrong, it is a nice suburb. It is verdant, clean, has a low crime rate, and unemployment is low. I can walk for hours around the area and see nice homes, and good schools. There just isn’t any neighborliness in my small piece of this town. Not even one person to grumble a hello my way. Being single here is rough when no one will acknowledge that you exist. Being single and fifty ~ even worse. I am surrounded by busy young people with busy lives, too busy to notice one of the older set. On the other hand, my muse loves the weather…
The only plus of moving here thus far, has been writing. I write, and write. I write everyday; snippets and paragraphs, pages and volumes. Some days the words do not stop. The steady stream pours over the keyboard like oil over water, spreading to cover the surface. Other days the words come in short spurts, sprinting breathless to the finish line. But write I must. Staring at a blank page on the laptop or desktop with nothing coming from my heart and mind through my fingers, is extremely painful. So, I write. Starting with a disjointed thought, followed by a favorite word. This goes on until I pause, and look out my window to the empty parking lot, and up at windows covered with mini-blinds that do not seem to open to the world outside. At those times I wonder why I chose this place, in this town.
Today is such a day. Writing about it brings it all back to the surface. The choice to leave one state for another. One lifestyle for another. All the choices made to bring me to this alien world of silent occupants.
My lease will be up soon and I don’t think I’ll re-sign or stay. I can go anywhere as I am still underemployed, but where to go? Back to a small town with some of the pitfalls of small town living including high unemployment, or try to get closer to the metropolis and hope to be noticed in a crowd. I know there must be a middle ground somewhere. Rural, suburban, urban. Two down, one to go.