I got a story like that

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Archive for politics

For Sale…

windshield

Oh honey, just look at it, it’s perfect.

Yes it is my love. It’s a bit pricey though huh?

Oh silly stop worrying about the price. Aren’t we worth it?

Yes, of course we are honey; it’s just that with my new job and the End of the World coming on December 21st.  I was hoping we could just rent something and see how things go.

But, I really want this house. It has everything we dreamed of, look at the landscaping; the trees are the right size. And these steps, I’ll be the envy of every housewife around.  Besides, if the planet does crumble we’ll be safe living up here, right?

I guess you’re right. It would be nice to be floating instead of being swallowed up by the Earth. Okay, let’s get the realtor on the phone. I’m buying my honey a house.

Oh yeah, you’re the best husband a girl could ask for. Oh and one more thing sweetie, can we not tell anyone where we live?

Sure, okay. But why?

Well, once we move in I’ll have so much to do; I simply won’t have time for an End of the World Party.

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I hope you enjoyed this story- this is what happens when I see a picture and begin to THINK…

-peace

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The Fallen…

A friend asked that I write a poem about this photo.  I wrote it from three different views.

Eight Carry the One –  is the voice of the soldiers carrying the casket

The Passing is the voice of the family watching

Deliver Me  – is the voice of the departed soldier

 

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EIGHT CARRY THE ONE

We are eight

Who carry one

The one’s whose duty

Is now done

 

We carry you

Upon our shoulder

Because of you

We get to grow older

 

This cargo of ours

This hero inside

We carry with honor

We carry with pride

 

As we lay to rest

One of our best

We honor those

For this life they choose

 

Its time to sleep

So close your eyes

Soar with angels

Above blue skies

 

Now at peace

But not alone

Not going away

Just going home

 

 

THE PASSING

As I watched

Them carry you

I began to weep

My heart in two

 

Is it dark

Where you are

Are you near

Or are you far

 

When it came

Was it swift

Did you suffer

Any of it

 

Your loss

I shall mourn

And celebrate

That you were born

 

A folded flag

Is what they give

To signify

The life you live

 

It’s not enough

It’s just not fair

That here I stand

While you lie there

 

 

DELIVER ME

Is it morning

Noon or night

Is there darkness

Or daylight

 

Here I lie

Inside this womb

To be inserted

Into a tomb

 

I am not hurt

Or suffer pain

Upon a stone

They’ll write my name

 

Not angry

Nor afraid

I’m content

With choices made

 

Send the word

To me now

Show your light

Show me how

 

One last request

I ask of thee

Protect the ones

Who deliver me

 

 

-peace

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

DREAM TRAIN…

Another example of when artists and writers collide.

DREAM TRAIN

“I must have dozed off, how the hell did I get here?

I don’t even remember getting on this train. Everyone is awfully quiet. Hell they’re all just normal subway car riders. Looking but not really looking at each other. Everyone just trying not to be noticed, wanting to get through this ride and get off the train. Hell, what am I thinking? Of course, I just fell asleep. I’ve been working so damn hard these days, my brain is playing tricks on me. I’m imagining that I haven’t been sitting here the whole time. But have I been here? Why don’t I remember getting on this train? Did I miss my stop? I feel like I’ve been on this damn train forever!

Excuse me ma’am, ma’am, could you please tell me what the next stop is? I seemed to have dozed off and might have missed my stop, ma’am? How rude, she’s totally ignoring me.

I certainly must have missed my stop; these people don’t look like people who live in my neighborhood. They’re not even sociable. I’ll just close my eyes for a minute, I’m so damn tired, maybe I’ll take a nap and all this will have been just a weird dream. The worst part is that I feel like I’ve been here before. Oh well, at least I’m on my way home and not on my way to work!

That’s odd; the sun is shining into the car. How could it be light outside?”

Conductor’s voice over train intercom: “Sorry folks the next stop will be delayed. It seems some poor soul has jumped into the path of the train ahead of us and was killed.”

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The artwork is just one of the many unique and fascinating pieces by our new friend Ray Ferrer @ http://urbanwallart.wordpress.com/

The words fell out of my face and onto this page…http://sobnyc.wordpress.com/

I SALUTE THEE..

Every year on Memorial Day, this MARINE, Staff Sergeant Tim Chambers, stands in the sweltering Washington D.C. heat, in his dress uniform, holding a salute for every biker in the Rolling Thunder procession. He stands at attention, saluting his brothers and sisters, from start to finish, which is over four hours! When asked, “Sergeant Chambers, why the salute?” His response was effortless and profound, “It’s about the pain. A lot of these heroic guys still hurt and if I can relieve their pain for just one brief moment, then I’ve done my job.”

God bless you SSGT Chambers, and God bless those who stopped to care for you and give you some water.

 

I was so touched by this photo and story, I wrote this poem in his honor.

 

I SALUTE THEE

 

Every year

At this time

I salute

These men of mine

 

As they roll

And thunder by

My right hand raised

To my eye

 

Does it hurt?

Is what they ask

In your honor

I accept this task

 

Thru the heat

The blazing sun

I stand here proud

For every last one

 

I cannot drop

My arm, My hand

I will not rest

I only stand

 

On iron horses

A steel cavalry

My eyes forward

I salute thee

 

 

http://www.sobnyc.wordpress.com

 

-Peace

 

 

THE HALF BLIND DATE

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

“RING,RING”, went the phone in the cabin of Shelia’s houseboat. “Okay Okay I’m coming,” Shelia yelled as she reached over the bunk bed/kitchen table to get to the pink princess phone in the center of the boats cabin. Phone in hand and half out of breath she spoke, “Hello?”

“Hi is this Shelia?” asked the voice on the other end.

“Yes it is,” Shelia replied ,“who’s calling please?”

“Hi My name is Eddie, I’m Alan’s friend, and he gave me your phone number. Alan did tell you about me didn’t he?” Eddie asked hesitantly, Eddie was very nervous about meeting someone new. With him being a Pirate on the open seas, he really never had time for a girlfriend. His sword buckling scars and the loss of his left eye always scared woman off.

Shelia said to herself for a moment, Eddie, Eddie, “Oh my, she exclaimed, yes, yes Eddie, Alan’s friend, of course. I’m sorry the call took me by surprise.” Shelia started thinking to herself “I hate these blind dates; you never know anything about the other person”.

Eddie started talking,” I guess our friends thought we might get along?”

He sounds polite enough, she thought. Shelia suddenly realized that they had been talking for almost 2 hours, laughing and joking about previous blind dates and experiences they have had. Eddie really sounded like a great guy; she was happy and relaxed for a change. Shelia smiled at the prospect of getting along with someone. It had been so long since her tragic boating accident that anyone would even give her a second glance these days. Most folks just stared at her when she walked into town to get supplies. The two of them acted like teenagers on the phone talking about their favorite music and their mutual love of sailing. Before she knew it they were sharing everything about themselves, well almost everything. Shelia didn’t have the courage to tell Eddie everything about herself. She wasn’t ready to tell him about what had happened that fateful day last year on her boat. Thinking to herself, “How do you tell someone you just met that you lost your right eye and that you now have to wear an eye patch?

 

This incredibly thought engaging artwork was submitted by our good friend Edilio Cicostile http://ediliociclostile.wordpress.com/

 

The words and the title “The Half Blind Date” is from my brain as I wrote this story.http://sobnyc.wordpress.com/

I hope you all enjoy it… Steve

 

-Peace

 

 

 

ATTENTION ALL ARTISTS AND WORDSMITHS !!!

I Got A Story Like That

Is looking for artists and writers to meet.

I have had a tremendous amount of fun and personal satisfaction with artists that I have never met sending me selected pieces of their work. Then I create a story/poem about that art.

Visit our site and see the results of our collaborations.

You don’t have to be an artist/writer to see whats happening here.

You might just have a little fun or maybe too much fun.

 

-Peace

INTO THE RED

 

INTO THE RED

I was told that this war would end all wars and that poets and artists from all the lands would tell of this day for centuries to come. I was told that we would all be immortalized and that our children’s children would be forever honored as the ancestors of us warriors. I was told that the glory of this war would come to me whether I died or survived this battlefield I stand upon today. I was told that dying was a great honor and the warriors to the left of my shield and to the right of my sword would gladly lay down their lives for that honor. I was told that my father, his father and his father fought bravely on this same battlefield and that some here today fought alongside them. I was told that I was born to be what I am, a warrior, here today. I have trained all of my young life for this war. I was told that to be truly happy in this life, one must be true to oneself inherited destiny. I was told these things by the gray haired soldiers’ of past wars who sit on the gilded thrones that float above the snow capped hills high atop the clouds that cover the huts and caves where we live. I was told at the great gathering that I would have the honor to fight. I was told that all who left their homes on this day would share the glory forever and as we marched to the border of our lands we march into history. I was told that the following morning sunrise would signal the start of the war. I was told to make peace with my god and with myself and that upon arrival at the field of battle that I was to kneel and pray to the heroes past, pray for forgiveness of my sins, pray for courage and strength.  I was told that upon the rising suns warmth on my shoulder I was to approach my enemy as he approached me. I was told that the fighting would commence upon contact, that there would be one instantaneous clash of bodies and souls. I was told that this battle would last no longer than a breath, a breath taken in and then exhaled outward. I was told that I would know that I had survived the fighting if I rode upon the wave of those who died from the impact.

I remember I was told this just as I felt the sun.

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The incredible artwork titled “War 1990” is submitted from our friend Marina Kanavaki http://marinakanavaki.wordpress.com/

The words and the title “Into The Red” is the result of my view

of Marinas work. http://sobnyc.wordpress.com/

Thank you for the opportunity to write.

Steve O’Brien