Reaching for the phone was a natural response. Realizing he didn’t remember the number, his heart raced. Fear and panic took over, yet he was still conscious to cover his tracks.
Caught
Give me the truth, it is less messy.
You may be out of practice
The painter needs fresh oils and a willing surface.
The deception you call art, left you exposed.
But then, I was taught by the master where to look.
She told me, don’t fall boy for any old hook.
You did not cover your tracks this time.
Leaving a plethora of evidence at the scene of the crime.
Defeat in the Air
The way his body slumped, crumpling where he stood. Head down and his eyes seemed to burn the ground. I knew the news he received, even though I couldn’t hear it, wasn’t good. Even 20 yards or so away I could feel the defeat in the air, gnawing and burning. Leaving a wish that somehow it could be unheard. I’m not even sure why I was so drawn to this scene, against a brisk Autumn backdrop. I certainly have plenty on my own mind.
Lanham Cinquain
These are a few American cinquain. I like the rhythm of these. *Some harsh language*
Hello
Girl my old friend
How are you, I am fine
Do you recall the love we shared
Me too
In there
You will find it
How much do you require
Take the whole thing it won’t expire
Today
Lying
About what now
Always the same it seems
Your wants over the best for us
Fuck you
At last
Is what she said
After finding the one
She can no longer live without
Not me
Baby
I call her that
In our time of passion
With the lights low or anywhere
I’m hers
Have you
Can you say it
Without hesitation
You loved her first without failing
Thought not
Purpose
Purpose Another brought a purpose beyond just being. A meaningful life as they say, can fade away. The senses once heightened, hearing, feeling, and seeing. A heart lost, cast on rough seas, awash in uncertainty. Once rushing to embrace the wonder. Like the promise of a new sun, home once thought to be everlasting. No longer finding sanctuary only remembrances. Languishing in memories steeped in loss. Music once sweetened, now like soured wine. Without a sail or rudder, falling into empty ports. There was a purpose, where now only torment dwells.
Self Crafted Hell
The pieces in place, prepared to render justice for transgressions most human. A mortal plane of existence, designed to torment and punish the failings of an apathetic soul. Crafted in mine own image. An earth bound hell, built to hold the memories and stoke the regrets. The reminders of loss and what might have been, […]
Self Crafted Hell
Things to come…
It has been harrowing, since the recent events which have occupied the town and my own mind. The deaths of a man and woman is big news here. But, their murder is a shocking scandal. Add to that, he had a wife and kids a county away and she was a divorcee at 25, when they were found nude and gruesomely murdered in his car out on the old mining road about 5 miles out of town...and you have end times panic. The murders have taken quite a toll on the community and my own sanity. Nothing out of the ordinary about the two deceased. Bill Kress, male, thirty years old. Worked as an electrical engineer for the power company. Nice suburban home near Charleston, wife, two kids. Amanda Schafer, female,twenty five years old. Worked as a secretary for a vice-president at the same power company. Divorced. Shared an apartment with her sister, in downtown Charleston. At least that is how the report will describe them. This ill fated pair, apparently enjoyed their trysts, in the deep seclusion offered by the woods north of town. It was late evening around 9 pm, I was making a drive up near the old mining road, which was a routine patrol to make sure kids weren’t partying up there. Not another soul was on the county road. I began to notice a light, near the tops of the trees, it moved in a kinda zig zag pattern. It seemed to be going in the same general direction I was traveling which was north. At first I didn't see anything but the light. I thought maybe it might be a helicopter, but there was no sign, and with my window down, and sitting in the road I didn’t hear anything. Strangely, when I stopped,the light seemed to stop moving. Now, I am convinced that somehow, my headlights are shining way up into the trees. I start driving again...then I see it. I saw it, but I didn’t believe it. I had been hearing about them for awhile, now I am actually seeing this metal disk looking thing with lights. I saw it as clearly as I saw the tree tops. It had stopped, I knew it must have been over or very near the old mine road. So I turned on the mine road, the flying disk was maybe 100 yards out from the entrance. I am driving slowly, there are big ruts on that road. I am watching the disk, the lights seem to spin around it. I’m slowly but surely reducing the distance between my car and that thing in the air. Just as I get around a clearing, something jumps out in front of the car. The headlights caught its eyes and I stopped. A deer looked at me for a minute, seemingly caught in the headlights...then it ran off. I look up and the saucer is gone. Totally vanished, no sign of it, the lights, nothing. But, there is a newer model car, parked about 60 yards ahead of me. An odd place for a new car to be 9:30 pm on a Wednesday night. Three weeks to the day after I had been sworn in as county Sheriff, odd things started happening. These odd, weird things...really, were all seemingly related to the murders.
American Cinquain 11/9/2019
All in No more waiting It is now or never The heart is looking for a pair I call Healing What a feeling Almost, like I’m stealing Someone else’s joy and meaning Renewed The owl Wise, observing Looking before leaping The prey, laughing before it’s caught Feasting Grinning Knowing after All of the options, now Hindsight is a cruel gift to have Madly
Solace in silence
Silence golden, if eternal
Beckons to me from afar
Soothing and calm, almost maternal
Am I ready for its embrace
Peering beyond the veil
Looking for a port to stay
Filling the days with mediocrity
Were it you in my arms, I’d be ok
I lost, yet not sure you won
Anguish fills your verse and voice
A time I told you would come
Doesn’t matter, too late, it’s undone
You took the stage, as did I
Playing our parts with aplomb
Tears of joy, promises that lie
Solace in silence, beautifully numb
How
How might we express that time
A shared union, past tense sure
Real and imagined, to some extent
Bound, yet also aloof
Whole, complete, fulfilled
And toxic too
Once, that was us
Gone now, and for the best
Ron Lanham Writing 