Tag Archives: prose

The Duke’s Cellos- Friday Fictioneers 1/11

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Friday fictioneers courtesy of Ms. Rochelle is on, and I am a tad early. This week’s image is courtesy of Roger Cohen. Comments, and constructive criticisms are very much appreciated, and please feel free to participate…there are amazing and uniquely different interpretations to the pictures each week. THANKS ALWAYS FOR STOPPING BY!!!

Image courtesy of Roger Cohen

Image courtesy of Roger Cohen

The Duke of Elgin liked music and invested in all manner of instruments…so it was no surprise when his once betrothed and now darling wife of 3 years left him for the Italian Cello player Antonio, who visited their countryside manor daily, to teach his highness how to play…Rumor around town is that the Duke was not much of a lover in the bedroom where all his musical treasures including 2 prized heirloom cellos stood…

His wife, Eleanor’s first carnal encounter with Antonio was right there in that bedroom when his highness was on Diplomatic assignment in Milan…his beloved Cellos watched as silent witnesses…

Dear Santa

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Dear Santa,

Season’s greetings to your jolliness… my excitement is growing as the day I have waited for all year gets closer. Oh how I love Christmas, for to me it is the most wonderful time of the year.

I have been nice this year…obeyed all the rules, trying very hard to remain good…my Christmas list growing, and I can’t help or contain myself…this season brings out the best in many, if not all of us.

I must say, I have a request this holiday as you soar high in the bright sky, Rudolph’s nose still red as Christmas bows, dropping neatly wrapped presents down chimneys for nice and deserving little boys, and girls.

Dear Santa, could you please remember the ones who were neither naughty nor nice… just painfully unfortunate, and so easy to miss, the moon dimly shining on their world…no twinkle stars in their gray skies…their patched roofs, and tents crumbling under the weight of lack, poverty, and hunger…devastation and plague besetting their every step…

Jolly St. Nick, could you leave a gift at theirs…bringing hope, joy, and smiles to their run down tired faces…making a marked difference in their lives…even if only for one day…hope briefly restored in their hearts…Christmas truly making them smile…

Brighten their world Santa…visit them too…

*There is a Santa in us all, so I hope we can all brighten some child’s world with a token or so this season…THANK YOU*

Three Years Old

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Happy 3rd birthday to our wonderful twin girls…these miracles…enormous love in delicate packages who keep our hearts thumping…love, hope, dreams in their big bright eyes.

Blossoming under God’s loving grace, these pink petals are growing…fast…personalities forming, abilities showing….love and affection growing…such delight their presence…such gratitude and heartfelt contentment…

Childlike innocence, beauty, and love…such amazing blessings…these little girls, pink petals blossoming under God’s grace, and love….heavenly miracles who keep our hearts thumping love…

Love you more than the whole wide world, and then back again…God bless and keep you always. Here’s to many more happy healthy loving years…

Super Duper Blowing Giant Kisses Happy birthday, my lovelies!!!

12/3/12 12:01am

The Start Of A Great Night

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He plays with her hair, soft and woven right…all the while staring into her beautiful big brown eyes, sparkling bright in the scented candles burning yellow and flicker red…sweet lavender fragrance filling the moist and chilly evening air as desire slowly grows.

Passion reflects back in her brown eyes bouncing off his baby blues…gleaming like the silvery moonlight sweeping over the blue Atlantic.

Love seals the desire rising within…shown sensually in soft and warm succulent kisses…strawberry juices dripping off from moist tongues through pink lips now soaked in kisses…

A great night just getting started…

The Very Important Business Of Being A Child

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Image courtesy of http://www.google.com

We must not overlook their humble beginnings….they are stepping stones to a life of fulfillment, passion, and purpose. We must therefore support our children however we can.

We must let them be who they are…giving them our blessings from their tender ages. Allow them to laugh heartily, play cheerfully…delight in life’s simple pleasures…the fluttering butterfly on a brightly sunny day…the falling leaf golden in its array on an autumn noon…the frost of winter in the dead of December…the brilliant rainbow carrying its pot of gold at the end of a rainy day…let their imaginations soar with wings like mighty eagles.

We must encourage, and inspire them….look also to them for inspiration, and motivation for children carry a spirit of innocence and persistence. We must show them the truth and help them along the way….be positive role models in our own homes…this very important job must not be left to TV, or any media outlet…too many people trying to get our children’s attention, we must help them see and know the truth.

Allow them to be children, expressing themselves however they see fit…let creativity rise in their loving hearts…colors in apple reds, sunny yellows, and ocean blues splashing across snowy white papers, as they make art and then some music with their tiny voices, squeaky echoes heard throughout the house…let them be children.

Celebrate every child, as each one carries potential, deserves praise, and support with heaping amounts of love…bless every child for they are our hope…boost their confidence…and let them know strength…truth…and moral character.

Let them read…seek…know…write…play…dance…sing…draw…paint…love…and express themselves however they see fit…more importantly let them be free…let them be kids…let them be…

For the business of being a child is an important one, you see…it is the foundation for a bright and hopeful future. It must never be manipulated or taken for granted.

*Specially dedicated to every wonderful child in my life…and the wonderful ones in yours*

Last Call- Guest Blog

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As I stare at the sun through these frames, I thank God for life, then return to one of my many disgusting habits.

I pat myself down, pull a packet out. Take a stick from it, tap it down and light it. Nicotine rush, I feel my brain get ignited. A little woozy, blink and the rush is gone, I take a couple more drags.

Inhale! Exhale! Ash it out! Stare at it burn, as I think to myself, something else might be the death of me. I am deceiving myself , I know I am lying to myself, pretending that I don’t know what these sticks do to me.

Yet I will not quit, not that I can’t. I just refuse to. It has become a friend. A silent friend… But in this silence another realm of comfort has been discovered. So from time to time, I visit…

On some occasions I have another friend who accompanies me. This companion I speak of glides over my tongue smoothly…“Tanqueray, with some ice and tonic please.”

I glide along this cold stream, in the clouds of fumes, peace of mind never departing. Well not until the bartender rings the bell. “Last call!”

And I am back on earth; I grab my coat and leave.

Outside in the still of the night, rain accompanies the darkness once more, so I pat myself down, find one more stick and…

I light one for the road.

- © Gbemiro *ade* Adebimpe”

Bio: Architect, Musician, Artist, Poet, and a few others might come along eventually. I am all about living life to the fullest as long as God approves and he is with you. LOL (lots of love.) xx

Written by Gbemiro Adebimpe
Manchester, UK

Red Apple

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Image Courtesy of http://www.google.com

I took a bite of the red apple, its sweet juices trickling down the corner of my lips as my tongue licked them, yearning for more… memories of our sinful past flashed across my mind.

I smiled as I relieved every itty bitty wrongful image knowing I shouldn’t, yet unable to help or stop myself and without knowing it,  I closed my eyes and as I took a harder bite at my McIntosh I let out a cry… a cry small enough to be unheard, yet loud enough for my curiosity to be aroused so I retrieved the IPhone from my leather snake skin purse and sent you an image…

 

* This post was inspired by Dean J Baker’s poem- Strawberries. I would say check him out, but I am sure you know of his work already :)- http://www.deanjbaker.wordpress.com*

Write Orgy(ies)

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Where words collide
And creative minds erupt
In a mesmerizing manner
Taking the subject through
Worlds seen in reality and fantasy
With funny metaphors that seem real
And melancholy is patterned with slang
Haiku, short forms, long prose, and more
The creative writers make the imagery real
All for an appealing and vivid imagination in the readers