Tag Archives: romance

Ice Breaker

At first sight
Within, my smile stayed.
Just peeking out
To capture you.
Expecting a passer-by.
A ghost exchanging pleasantries.
Words from your distant lips
Barely reached.
Eight hundred fifty feet high.
The crisp, morning gusts
Pushed you swiftly.
There was predetermination ahead.
Both of us unaware
Trading leads along the way.
At every crossing
Our eyes caught
Returning reserve.
Without fail
We converged.
A sure hand extended
To identify.
Though, falling short
Of playful expression.
You danced around
The perimeters of essence.
At journey’s end
I recognized hesitation.
Uncertainty.
The longing of wish.
Uncounted, I had known that moment.
I set forth
Looking forward to your breakout.
That hand was not for me.

IceQueen

 

C. Gandy 7-4-16

Photo from the internet.

 

 

The Waltz Amber

LeonidAfremov1

Amber glaze of fresh honey.
Tenacious with words of brilliance.
Like autumn leaves
My odes drop graciously.

Copper conduits
Fuse yellow gold devotions.
Gentle dance of fire; smooth.
Rise and fall.

All of this
In your eyes.

 

C. Gandy 06-06-16

What will your eyes tell me?

jpeg is of a Leonid Afremov painting

This concludes the Essentia trilogy.

 

 

The Unspoken Green

emerald_sea_1024

Submerged in emerald green.
Along the shore, I walked.
Leaving a trail of novellas.
Showering the pure, white quartz beneath.

Softness flutters.
Sealed with caress.
Everlasting impressions; affections.

Artful labyrinth
Holds cryptic answers.

All of this
In your eyes.

 

C. Gandy 6-3-16

What will your eyes tell me?

Photo is a free wallpaper image.

Reposted with a different pic. The old one did not show up in the header.

 

 

 

The Challenge Blue

 

Articblue

Reflection of ice blue.
Caught in wonder fatigue.
My epics now adrift
In journeys of enchantment.

Challenge glitters.
Pressed by warm tears
From glaciers; lost.

Quiet relief
Precedes exhilaration.

All of this
In your eyes.

 

C. Gandy  6-5-16

What will your eyes tell me?

Photo from Walemar Halka – flickr

 

Old Cabin Still – Part Three

After a long discussion, they all agreed to go back.   Before the crack of dawn, they set out for another trip across the lake.  The night had been rather cool.  A low-lying layer of steam fog made for an eerie experience.

“I feel like I’m crossing the river Styx,” Paul said.

“Well, I hope someone paid the ferryman,” Brad jokes.crossing_the_river_styx_by_andrethestrange-d3lkdtq

In the rolling mist, then he gets on board
Now there’ll be no turning back
Beware that hooded old man at the rudder
And then the lightning flashed, and the thunder roared
And people calling out his name
And dancing bones that jabbered and a moaned
On the water
And then the ferryman said
There is trouble ahead
So you must pay me now (don’t do it)
You must pay me now (don’t do it)
And still that voice came from beyond
Whatever you do
Don’t pay the ferryman
Don’t even fix a price
Don’t pay the ferryman
Until he gets you to the other side
 
-Chris De Burgh – Don’t Pay the Ferryman

The boat glides ashore and they drag it several feet up onto the sand.  After looking around for several minutes, an overgrown path is found.  The path was crowded with pignut hickory trees and low bush blueberry plants.  This made for a more bothersome than difficult trek.  When they had walked for five minutes, a crow takes off from the ground and disappears into the canopy sounding its warning call.  Everyone had the same thought. The crow was there to point the way toward another clue.  They walk swiftly to the point of the crow’s departure.  There were several grave markers.  Some had dates and names chiseled into them. Others did not.  Without warning, the ground gives way underneath Brad’s feet.  He quickly grabs the side of the collapsed grave and flips himself back up.  Part of an old casket is revealed along with the bones of the deceased.  Something catches their eye.

“Could it be?” Paul said.  “Another bottle?”

“Leave it be,” Rose said. “Unless someone is brave enough to go down there and dance with the dead?”

No one wanted to take a chance. They felt they had done enough desecration for the day and head back to the path.  After a twenty minute walk, a cabin presents itself to the group.  Everyone but Rose goes inside to investigate.

“I’m going to look around out here,” Rose said.

In actuality, the cabin looked exactly like the one Jeffrey created in the arts and crafts activity.  She really wanted to freak out and head back.  However, she kept it to herself because she was curious for answers.

The others enter the cabin. The air was quite stale.  The layout was a simple one room flat.  The kitchen and its table were to the right. A bed and a dresser to the left.  A fire pit that was used for heat and cooking was centered at the rear.  Paul opened the doors of the cupboard.  It was empty.  Erica went to inspect the dresser.  While Brad stayed at the door, Justin sifted through the fire pit.

“Looks like bones of a grouse. Maybe a rabbit, too,” Justin said.

Meanwhile, Erica is opening the dresser drawers.  She doesn’t find anything until she gets to the bottom drawer.  There she finds a photograph.

“Hey, an old photo,” Erica said in a puzzling manner.  They all rush over.

“Could be from the 1920’s or even earlier,” Paul said.

The picture is of a man and a woman standing next to a car.

“That is a Ford Model T.  I would say Paul is right,” Brad said.

stone-basement-stairsAround the back side of the house, Rose finds a cellar door.  The side walls were of old, quarried slate.  The door was a strong wood, perhaps oak.  The door handles were rusted.  There was a chain wrapped around the handles with a lock.  She notices it is actually unlocked.  She removes the chain and tosses it to the ground.  The lock tumbles.  Rose flips the right side door up with all her strength.  It locks in the open position.  Looking downward, it is pitch black.  Crumbling slate stairs lead the way.  Rose is unafraid and ventures into the cellar. She takes seven steps to a landing. The stairs turn right and there is another door.  Suddenly she becomes covered in cobwebs.  It feels as if tiny creatures are crawling all over her.  Before she can let out a scream, a hand touches here on the left arm.  In an instant, she sweats profusely.  Then, she is freezing cold.  Rose vanishes.

The inside of the cabin does not reveal anything important. The group heads out side and Erica calls out for Rose.  “Rose, where are you? Was that you making all that noise?”

They notice the cellar door is open.

“She must have gone in,” Justin said.

Carefully walking down the stairs, they all randomly call out for Rose. Paul gets out his flashlight. Erica looks back at him quizzically.

“I always carry it. You never know when you might need one, especially when you are in the woods,” Paul said.

After descending five steps, there is a door.  Justin grabs the handle. It opens inward with ease.  The darkness unveils a keg to the left and a wine rack to the right. There are several overstuffed burlap sacks along the back wall.  Erica investigates the rack.

“Hey, another bottle of whiskey,” Erica said.

“Yeah, I bet there is another note inside,” Brad said sarcastically.

“In fact it does have one!” exclaimed Erica.  “You should not joke about the mystery of Old Cabin Still.”

From the back of the room, a very faint sound of slithering is heard. Paul shines the light in its direction.  “Uh, those burlap sacks are moving,” Paul said.

The four scramble to get out of the cellar. The staircase is narrow. They do not realize they are fighting each other due to their own panic.  Brad stumbles and smacks his right knee into the stair case.  He falls down writhing in pain.  The pain is so intense he cannot speak or even move.  The others do not realize Brad’s predicament. They are already back outside.  A large gust of wind kicks up dirt and leaf litter causing the group to shield their eyes.  The cellar door slams shut.  In an instant, calm returns.  Paul realizes that Brad is not among them.  Paul runs over to the cellar doors.  He tries to open them but he cannot.  They scream out for Brad.  A faint voice is heard.  “Get back across the lake. Get help for me,” Brad said with desperation in his voice.

There would be no help for Brad.  Out of the walls, thousands of wolf spiders crawl out.   They attack Brad and he perishes a gruesome, painful death.

Paul, Justin, and Erica run back to the boat. Once again, Erica is holding a bottle.  Justin sees the bottle in Erica’s hand.

“Get rid of that bottle. It’s a curse,” Justin said.

“No, I won’t do it. Maybe it will free Brad,” Erica said.

“And unleash what?” Brad shouts in anger as he tries to take it away from Erica.

“At least let me read it now.”

Erica smashes the bottle on some rocks.  She picks up the note and reads it aloud, “She who reads will never know. He who loves will also go.”

Both Eric’s and Paul’s bodies begin to warp and dematerialize.  They spin upwards as if caught up in a tornado.  They are flung high into the air.  They plummet like missiles into the lake.

Justin’s survival mode kicks in.  He cannot even process what has just occurred.  He starts rowing frantically across the lake.  He notices the lake is still quite foggy.  He cannot see where he is going but he does not care.  Rowing harder, the oars do more splashing than accelerating the boat.  Justin gets halfway across the lake.  He is exhausted and stops.  Out of the fog comes another jon-boat.  Justin is relieved and shouts, “Over here.”

“There is no need to yell,” said the boy.

“Jeffrey, is that you?  What are you doing out here all by yourself?”

Jeffrey eases his boat closer.  “Take my hand, Justin.”

Justin’s hand is crushed by the grip.  Jeffrey begins a transformation. Skin splits from his bones as he grows larger and larger. Slimy scales start to protrude from the creature.  An overwhelming stench takes over. The smell was as if the bottom of a swamp was turned over.  Hot mucus drips from his fangs. His jaws gape open.  In an instant, Justin is consumed.

At the bottom of the lake, there is commotion inside an old Ford Model T.  Paul and Erica surface in an air pocket within the car.  They bang against the window in a futile effort to escape.  They realize they are trapped and only have a few minutes of air.  Paul stares at Erica. She is dressed in an afternoon tea dress. Atop her head, an elegant cloche hat.  Erica looks Paul over.  Paul in his dapper, flannel suit.

crowart

Back at the graveyard, Jeffrey had just finished covering up the collapsed grave.  He plunges the shovel into the soft earth.  The crow swoops down and lands on the end of the upright shovel and lets out a banter of caws.  “Yes, Kangee,” Jeffrey said.  “It was unwise to read the bottles out of order.  Although, we do still have Rose.”

 

-The End

 

Or, is it? I just may write a sequel. By now, you should see the Stephen King influence.

Photos and artwork are not mine.

Old Cabin Still – Part 2

Erica glanced at the bottle in her hand and remembered there was something inside. She would keep it to herself for now.OldCabinBottle

The morning events stayed on schedule. The day always began with raising the camp flag. Breakfast followed for the kids. There would be forty-five minutes for cabin inspections. This was more like stalling to get the activities arranged. Also, the kids were quite the litterbugs and keeping the grounds clean was a priority.  Once the last piece of trash was properly disposed, the day’s activities could begin.

Erica was the lead counselor for all water activities.  She was a high school senior and a member of the diving team.  She placed second in the state championship and made first all-team.  Today’s activity would be the water zip line.  The zip line was a little shy of one hundred feet in length.  Camp kids would climb wooden stairs to get to a nine foot high deck where Erica awaited them.  This was nothing in comparison to the Dragon’s Breath zip line in Labadee, Haiti.  She had bested that monster during spring break.  It is the longest zip line over water.  Adventurists reach speeds up to sixty miles per hour.  However, this zip line brought a much different thrill.  Putting smiles on kids’ faces was the task.  Some kids were nervous.  Others could not wait to cut the waiting line and go again.  While putting the life vest on one of the kids, Erica noticed something across the lake.  It appeared to be a rooftop.  She knew of no structures over there.  The storm must have felled a tree and exposed it.

Meanwhile, Justin and Brad were the swimming pool lifeguards.  Various races were conducted at the pool.  Primarily, they were relay races.  Inner tubes, body boards, and water noodles were included to enhance the element of fun.  Winners would get to race the lifeguards which would end in an all-out water fight.

Justin and Brad played baseball in high school.  Brad was one of the team stars and played left field.  Justin was the workhorse catcher.  He caught every game during his junior and senior year.  He struggled with the bat, though.  The two reminisced about all of Brad’s long throws to home plate.

“Remember when I threw three guys out at home in one game?’ said Brad.

“I sure do. I tagged them,” Justin jests, “Mr. William Hoy!”

The water races paused for an intermission.

“Justin, is that foot feeling ok?” Brad said.

“Yeah, it’s good. In fact, a little too good,” Justin said.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I never really felt my foot tangled.  It was as if some force was holding me there.    More like I was running in a dream but not getting anywhere.”

“Just keep that thought to yourself.  Everyone will think you are crazy.”

“Agreed,” Justin said.

On the south side of the lake, Paul was busy trailblazing with the young adventurers.  He was intelligent and enjoyed the sciences.  He knew most of the local plant and animal species.  It was a natural fit for him to be the camp nature guide.  He did not participate in sports.  Instead, his goals were self-oriented.  Planning a ten mile bike trip to a friend’s house was more his style.  When he was younger, he went hiking in the White Mountains of Vermont with his family.  They hiked from Lonesome Lake Hut up to the summit of Cannon Mountain.  The smell of the freshly baked bread at the hut made his mouth water when he thought of it.  The pristine water of that lake and its smooth, glass-like reflection burned in his eyes.  The sight of the Franconia Ridge in the background was what beckoned him to explore.

The hiking event was more of a scenic walk.  An hour each way made it one of the longer activities.  That was plenty for the kids.  He would do two tours in a day but only once a week.  The path led them up a gentle, high ridge that overlooked the lake from a distance.  The view of the lake was frequently blocked by trees.  He would teach the kids both the common and scientific names of the trees.

As they wandered to collect leaves, something caught Paul’s eye. A reflection of some sort.  He thought his eyes were playing tricks on him.  He focused on the end of the lake.  Again, a shimmer of light.  It was not far from where they had gone ashore and discovered the bottle.  Perhaps, a few hundred feet into the woods.  Paul quickly forgot about it as the group turned back down the trail.

Rose hosted one of the most popular activities, arts and crafts.  She was a junior in high school and she was the camp’s leading artist.  She weaved her creative mastery into all the decorations that appeared in the cafeteria and the outdoor assembly area.  In high school, she took the lead with designing all the props and backgrounds for plays.  Everyone followed and learned from her because she was so good with the brush.  Today, she wanted kids to replicate their own home.  They could use any of the materials provided.  Construction paper, pipe cleaners, and popsicle sticks were all fair game.  They could choose to duplicate their home based on reality or make it abstract.  Britney decided to make hers out of pink pipe cleaners.

Rose offers some advice.  “What you really should do is make the roof and windows one shade and the rest of the house a second shade.”

“Ok, maybe I’ll use a few other colors.”

“Whatever you like.  It is your imagination,” said Rose.

PopsCAbin2Rose moved around the group.  She paused to see what materials Jeffrey was using.  He was a quiet child.  Rose could relate to him.  She had always been on the quiet side too.  He was using the popsicle sticks and bamboo.  He was off to a great start.  The home had an American rustic charm.  It was more like an Adirondack cabin.

“Is that where you live?” Rose said.

“No, this is the cabin across the lake,” Jeffrey said.

“There’s no cabin on that side.”

“Sure there is. I saw it in my dreams last night.”

“Well, you keep going.  It is really good,” Rose said.

Rose dismissed it as just a child’s imagination. She certainly would not be one to get in the way of creativity.  As the kids kept tugging her in every direction, she forgot about Jeffrey’s comments.

The day’s activities began to wind down.  Erica called upon her four friends.  They agreed to meet at Paul’s cabin to investigate the bottle.  First, a great barbeque was to be conducted for dinner.  Brad and Justin were elected master chefs.  Brad would grill the chicken.  A good portion had been marinated in a garlic and wine concoction.  He would cook it then sear it until the chicken was crispy.  There also was plenty with a barbeque sauce flavor.  Justin would handle the hot dogs and hamburgers.  A simple task for a laid back and simple man.  The salads were all premade.  A small food fight broke out with potato salad being the choice of artillery.  After everything was devoured, the grounds were cleaned up.  The children had been sent off to their cabins for the evening.

The five friends assembled in Paul’s cabin.  Only Paul and Erica were intrigued by the bottle.  Rose did think ahead.  She crafted a corkscrew out of an old wire coat hanger.  Rose took the bottle from Erica and had a go at the old cork.  The original stopper was missing.  Someone had replaced it and cut the cork off at the mouth of the bottle.  This made it difficult to remove.  With great care and patience, Rose extracted the cork.  The room was filled with the aroma of bourbon.  Something mystical also occurred that their eyes could not see.  It was as if a swirl of enchanted dust went around the room to envelop the teenagers and then dissipated.

“Now we have to figure how to get the letter out of the bottle,” Brad said.

“I’ve got that covered,” Rose said.

She had made a long pair of tweezers out of the coat hanger too.

“Careful,” said Erica as she cringed. “Don’t damage the paper.”

The letter was out.  With nimble fingers, Rose delicately unfolded the letter.  The paper was in great shape.  The residual whiskey vapors must have preserved it.

Rose began to read, “I never meant for things to happen as they did.  I am in love with you.  I will never forget you.  I cannot forgive myself for the things I have done.  I was only given one chance.  A chance in a lifetime.  But, it was not meant to be a lifetime.  Just a time in love.  So, I am going to a place without time.  There, I can love you always and forever.

“Wow! How romantic.” Erica dreamily whispers. “Is that all?”

“Yes. It is unsigned,” Rose said.

“Ah, it is just some poor guy who couldn’t get over being dumped. Then he ended his life,” Justin said.

“It doesn’t say that at all!” screams Erica.  “In fact, the author could be male or female.”

“We need to go back across the lake,” Paul said.

“Oh, no,” Rose said.  “We should respect what happened this morning and not take any more chances.”

“We learned our lesson,” Paul said.  “Besides, I saw something over there today.”

“Me too!” Erica shouts in excitement.

“What? This is getting bizarre. All the more reason not to go back,” Rose said.

After a long discussion, they all agreed to go back.

Remember to follow the story next week for its conclusion. What do you think will happen? Nothing good. It’s Sci-Fi Horror! I promise a twist or two!

 

 

Neverending

Neverending2016

The other week I was about to file away one of the subject notebooks I use to write out my thoughts. I noticed right on the first page I wrote something I never finished thinking through. It was the chorus to this song poem.  After only a few days, I was able to get back into the feeling I wanted to achieve.  I actually must have wrote the chorus last August. I admit, I really struggled finding the right image with the right amount of blank space so I wrote the whole thing out below. The image is a cropped wallpaper of Asuna and Kirito available for free. Sorry, Kirito. I had to cut you out!

Neverending

Moves like silk
Flowing in the wind.
Angelic songs
From the clouds above.
A voice rings with a certain sweetness.

Her silhouette
Wants to take you in.
Those eyes
Desperate for affection.
The essence of a prince’s dream.

Chorus:
Her words, oh, so tender.
Her smile, in everything rendered.
A woman
That’s worth defending.
This love
Neverending.

She’ll understand
When you shy away.
Her perfectness
Seems too practical.
You would rather it be a mirage.

Now you’re completely overtaken.
A crush
With thoughts of destiny.
You just want to hold her close.

Her words, oh, so tender.
Her smile, in everything rendered.
A woman
That’s worth defending.
This love
Neverending.

Reprise:
A blend of luck and fortune.
We are given to our hearts.
Accepting a preferential truth.
Vulnerable but not alone.

 

 

 

 

Aftertaste

Aftertaste

Somehow a double entendre spilled out of me after just writing the two questions I pose in this poem. I wrote this in about 30 minutes. Am I talking about a relationship between two people or the give and take between the Sun and the Plant Kingdom?  The is also a tribute to the great Trent Reznor and his pretty hate machine, one of the greatest industrial albums. Free background from DeviantArt.  This is the first poem of a four part mini-project with a little more angst and a little less melody.

Melody Nine II

MelodyNine

This was the super-catchy melody that set the premise for my first project in 2016. I previewed this post in mid-December with different artwork. Once again, this for all my new followers. Plus, check out this retro desktop background I created here using what they call the “Elvis” mic. Generic background available at Freepic.com.

I did not even realize I placed Melody Nine on page nine of my booklet. How subliminal!

This completes the first project of the year! Onward to the next! 🙂

 

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