The One Constant

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The One  Constant

Tombstones contain
words so easily worn
by weather and time

The tides ebb & flow
may eventually wash
away your words too

But there will always
be that one constant
the things I feel for you

Allie emailed me this photo in 2010.  One of my treasured memories during that difficult period of our long distance romance.

Treasured Memories That Never Were


Last week I read a lovely little poem (entitled Questions Without Answers) on a blog page of lovely poetry called A Reading Writer.  I have attached the link for anyone interested in reading the inspirational piece. Thank you Rosema for the inspiration.…/questions-without-answers


Treasured Memories That Never Were

It was a warm summer night when
we slow danced on a quiet tropical
beach. Your soft cheek caressed my
five o’clock shadow. The full moon
glowed in your intoxicating eyes as
you said the words I longed to hear.

Then there was that night we drank
sweet merlot and read love poems
by candle light. We made love until
dawn. And I brushed your silky hair
as you slept in my arms. That night
you promised me to love me forever

Perhaps, one day I will finally build
the courage to approach you. Then
I could tell you how I feel. But until
that day I will sit here, alone in my
dark lonely corner, clinging to these
treasured memories that never were


Please note: Lonely Author will be in and out of the blog today. Having a big barbecue with tons of guests, food, and wine. My best friend who I have often written about is moving to Tampa, Florida on Monday.  Allie and I planned a farewell bash for her. The Chimp assures you he will be on his best behavior. (You really don’t believe that, do you?  Well, honestly, niether do I).

Have a wonderful weekend full of sunshine and smiles.

The Brightest Star (100 Word Story)


The Brightest Star


Derek walked up to the bar, desperate to drown his loneliness. “Beer please. Any beer will do.”

The bartender returned with a bottle of Blue Moon.

Derek groaned. Of all the beers in the pub, this is what the bartender served an astronomer. Obviously, he wasn’t permitted to forget his work tonight.

Looking across the room, he smiled.

She sat alone at the end of the bar; radiating beauty, attracting him with her personal gravity from light years away.

He didn’t need a telescope to know the truth.

She was the brightest star in the universe of a crowded room.



The Typewriter


The Typewriter

“Police are searching for escaped convict Leticia Decker, otherwise known as the Lafayetteville’s Lizzy Borden.”

Lonely Mike Dawson shut off the old dusty radio. After twenty two best selling horror novels, he preferred to rummage through his cluttered attic than stare at a blank page.

Lifting a sheet off a table he discovered an old typewriter. “Look at this.”

With one finger he typed D-A-R-K.

His flashlight suddenly died out.

“What the…” Dawson smacked the flashlight several times. It refused to work.

Dawson grabbed the typewriter, stumbled out of the attic, returning to his writing den. Filled with excitement, he accidentally bumped into the door causing it to shut.

Placing the typewriter on his desk, he shoved the laptop aside. He slid a sheet of paper in the type writer feed and spun the platen knob and typed.

Moonlight crept through the open window.

The desk slowly became brighter.

Dawson turned to face the open window. He watched the parting clouds reveal the full moon.

He realized he had discovered infinite power. Cracking his knuckles, Dawson typed with passion.

The young siren knocked on the door.

He heard heavy knocking.

The voluptuous woman let herself into the house. She slowly climbed the stairs, her footsteps announced her arrival.

Heavy shoes walked up the squeaky wood stairs, growing louder with every step.

Like an inspired conductor before the orchestra, Dawson typed with vigor and style. Tonight he would create a masterpiece.

She was young, beautiful, and full of desire.

Dawson laughed out loud. Tonight, his life would change forever.

No doubt she would be the death of him.

A bloody axe crashed through the door.

Precious Isabella


With Father’s Day nearing and no baby on the way, Allie expressed her sadness and desire to give me a son (especially since I am the last of the family).  I already have a daughter, but I dream of Allie experiencing motherhood. Honestly, I can’t help but wonder what our love could create.

Me, I have a thing for little girls. These are my words for my Isabella.

Precious Isabella

Precious Isabella
what I would give
to hear your first cry
my heart will fill
with pride and joy
which no one can deny

Lovely Isabella
I wish you were here
With a toothless smile
on the floor we’ll drink
from your tea set as we
pretend for a little while

Little Isabella
Please come to us
You are our missing link
We can go shopping
to buy you pretty dresses
with satin bows of pink

Precious Isabella
how can one miss a baby
perhaps never meant to be
leave that up to your
foolish dad
good old sentimental me


Happy Father’s Day.

Photo taken from Pinterest.

There Are Loves


There Are Loves


There are loves
that will last like
eternal flames
which are never
meant to burn out

There are loves
extinguished by
the slightest wind
cause they were
never meant to last

Then there’s your
love which smolders
inside of my heart
providing me with
warmth and ecstasy

There are loves
that are written
in firm granite.
They will stand
the test of time

There are loves
lacking ebb and
flow similar to
erasable poems
written in sand

Then there’s your
love blooming in
this lovely garden
you created in deep
corners of my soul


Photo of Allie taken by me at Rockefeller Center.


The Pharaoh’s Bride


The Pharaoh’s Bride

“Time can heal the broken heart, but it can also hurt the waiting heart.”

Darius rested underneath a weeping willow. His disheartening journey has lasted longer than time.

Five thousand years ago, he adored the woman he protected; the Pharaoh’s young bride. It started innocently, exchanging forbidden smiles and glances. 

Until, one day Aziza lost her balance and fell into his granite arms.

A week later they feasted on grapes; as they made love on the banks of the Nile beneath the radiant moonlight.

News of their secret romance reached the Pharaoh.

Beaten within moments of death, Darius pleaded with the Pharaoh. “I prefer to die a thousand deaths than to live a day without my beloved Aziza.”

Pharaoh ordered his magician, “Poison my disloyal wife. Reward her with the gift of reincarnation.”

Hot tears blended with the crimson blood upon Darius’ face.

“Let Darius live forever. He can suffer through eternity watching her die ten thousand deaths.”

Through the centuries, Darius walked the Earth alone. He found her soul in women of different lands.  He buried her a thousand times.

Since Columbus discovered the New World he has yet to see her.

He may never find her again?

Time can heal the broken heart, but it can also hurt the waiting heart.



This is a mansuscript I have outlined and is currently waiting to be written. It is the story of Darius and his eternal search for his beloved.

Photo taken from Pinterest.