patterns galore

image

 

exploring a voice
a mindset
a perspective
is like slipping on clothes
to see if and how they fit
here too long, there too tight
altogether a bit off
or just right

until they’re known enough
warm enough
to the touch
of thought, sight, feeling
and you’re fairly certain
you have the pattern,
the colours and meshes down pat,
the seams of memories, quirks
and habits good and bad,
how they all fit together –

Or not.
Sometimes it’s all a pair of old clothes:
too small to fit, too familiar to throw,
or bundled up together in one glorious knot
hard to untangle with patterns galore
so subtle and baroque
they’re infinitely hard to spot.

© 2014 threegoodwords

a simple life

The cabin was in the middle of nowhere out in the plains. It took twenty minutes to get to the main street with the grocers and the bar. The cabin had everything though, water and electricity, and enough firewood if it got cold at night. Bobby made sure there was enough.spring 5

Bobby Sachs was the mechanic in Twain. You needed your car fixed you got it to Sachs. He knew everything about cars, old, new, sold twice, three times, he knew exactly what you needed. How, nobody knew, he just did. He was a good man, tall, very broad, always tanned. He was rarely in anything else than jeans and a soiled shirt, work gloves hanging out of his back pocket, his workboats sprinkled with motor oil. He was the quiet type, didn’t talk much, but was a good for a drink and a game of pool in the bar. Bobby Sachs was liked by everyone in Twain, he was a good man, solid. And he took care of Christiana, everyone called her Christy though.

Christy was… she was a sweet girl, but not very bright. When she went shopping at the grocers, she had a list of things they needed, written out by Bobby, coz Christy couldn’t remember much. Pretty face, but brain like a sieve, everyone said. And it was good Bobby Sachs did the decent thing and married her. She’d been going out with Bobby Sachs’ cousin, Hank Royce, but Hank was no good. Beat her up bad sometimes, especially when he was drunk, but there was no getting Christy away from Hank, he was all she had save her Gran, and her Gran was ancient. Nobody really knew about Christy’s dad, and her Moma one day up and left without so much as a word or goodbye. Christy was ten then, and everybody in Twain agreed that’s when she got a bit strange. She’d loved her Moma like only a kid could, but Christy’s Moma was a bitch, everyone was happy to see her go. Nobody said that to Christy’s face though, coz Christy was an angel. Not very bright, but so sweet you didn’t want no harm to come her way. You just couldn’t get her away from that good-for-nothin’ drunk she was with.

Then Hank Royce got himself killed in a car crash down at the Old River, and it was Bobby Sachs who dragged the wreck to the yard. As the story went, he came by Christy’s to give her the money for the scraps, saw how bad she was and just took her home to get her cleaned up and fed. She never left after, and at one point they went to the preacher and Bobby put his Moma’s ring on Christy’s finger. Now Christy was taken care of and the whole of Twain was relieved. Christy wasn’t an angel for nothin’, she had a good man for a husband, a man she obviously adored, she wouldn’t let anyone talk bad about Bobby.grasses Everyone was happy for her, she was a good girl with a good man, and Bobby Sachs was the kind of man you wanted to see with a good wife. Everyone was happy to see them walking into the bar for the dance on Saturday nights, or down to the fair when it came to Crosby further down the highway, coz Bobby Sachs took care of his wife. He even took her out when she wanted to have a  good time.

© 2014 threegoodwords

life in time

sunset sky

you are in cotton
carried in hands
of such magnitude and gentleness
all you know is…

the need to know
to live and learn
to jump and run

dance to music
savour the moment
watch a setting sun

to love
to hold
to know you and me and you
as what you are

all the you there is
tremendous

to understand the infinite
in expression

to know of time
and memories
to learn there is both
a you and an I

to be young at heart
and wise, caring, kind

…bliss

 

© 2014 threegoodwords

for once

Natural.

More of an
afterthought
than an
endeavour

more of a
f
l
o
w
than a
pu – shing – through

more of a
silent
surprise
than a planned-out event.

More of an
‘Oh… did we just…?’
rather than an
‘Ok, let’s do it.’

© 2014 threegoodwords

luna declining

To all you lovely people,
Hallowe’en is not far away,
so here’s something small for you to read
before All Hallow’s Day.

Merci for liking,
Merci for joining,
I hope you keep on reading, commenting,
and of course enjoying:
You truly are the best!

j.d.

image

Eyes seen in darkness
Scanning
A swish of a tail
A smell of far-off hail
In the air
There
No, there
Maybe…

Echoes howling faraway
A silent silvery back
Glides between shadows
Halting once or twice
Waiting
A shiver, real
tingling
icily
down young spines.

A lone figure standing,
seeing
everything
A glance, flickering
Shadows enveloping
the seven, hiding
Six disbelieving
Waiting in suspense.

Gasping, a whispered shout
Did you see?
Did you see!
A hand cupped hard over a mouth
A fierce whisper
Shut up!
Heartbeats racing
Silver bullets
waiting
for the ancient terror
lingering
In the dark of Night.

The howl so sudden
So close
No!
Shut up!
There!
RUN!

Screams piercing the night
Gunshots exploding
bright flares
in darkness
deeper
louder
Howls and Screams
Growling
too close, too close!
Confusion
Terror
Irrevocable understanding

RUN FOR YOUR LIFE!

I told you! I told you!
I TOLD you it’s there!

Crimson spreading
dripping
the scent intensifying
leaving a trail
Cursing
Crying
Prayers flying
From sputtering, trembling lips
This can’t be –
They’re myths –
They’re just make-believe!

We can’t, we can’t!
We must.
But that’s blood!
That’s real!
That’s a bite!
I don’t care, get inside
Get inside
GET INSIDE!

A scramble,
A struggle
back into the secure cabin
doors slamming
tires screeching
Lights fleeing into the night.

Luna declining
Silver fur gliding
Under old shadows
Into the vast Night
A moment of silence
before dawn, rising
A dim flash reclining
into misty worlds of silence
ancient spells
alive, living
Alone in the dark of Night…

© 2014 threegoodwords

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