Content: hope

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Read it, the whole way through, by the end you will understand.

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A short history of promising quarterback Joe Roth, his early death, and a final victory. Any feedback OK.

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The process of grief. How I see it. Not only for those who have lost partners to death but also happiness to depression and well being to strife. Dedicated to JHawk, Michelle, and Folio and all others who have dealt with death of a loved one. To those who have come through the valley into the light. Hopefully offering a glimmer of what I believe lies ahead. Have traveled this road more than once. I believe these words. Any and all feedback

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Almost every winter up in my North Country woods there's a brief break in the long winter action and we get a few warm days that remind us of the promise of spring. This one tries to get hold of those times. Comments welcome.

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Sitting in a hospital parking lot a week or so ago, just waiting. Saw an old guy struggling a little and my imagination took it a little further. Comments welcome.

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Ever had the need to write though you know it is an unfinished rather imperfect piece? Of course you have! So bear with me. The need overcame the reality that it lacks that finished touch. It will come when it come but for now it is birthing. Spring...

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I dedicate the following Poem to Ruth Marie. She is the character in the poem. We communicate only on facebook when she is strong enough. And sometimes I think she is a lot stronger than I am. My heart breaks each time we talk, but my pen is strong. It is so nice to be amongst such great writers at TNBW. During this holiday season, take time to realize how fortunate we really are.

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There is a word of profanity in this, so pass if you don't care for such things. Any feedback is welcome. I am posting old poetry for work shopping, to see if I can't find a pattern in which to form a chapter book, just for my own gratification. It is a soothing diversion when I get tired of the cramped typing I do for hours on end.

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First, I apologize for the irregularities of meter and rhyme in this thing. Secondly, I apologize for posting it on this most serious and erudite of writing sites. And finally, a little explanation. For several years I worked on this thing as a country song and then as a poem. It's hard to see the investment of intellect and dedication, I know, but it's there. Or here. This is especially for Memphis Trace. Comments always welcome. Please be gentle.

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“Physician, heal thyself,” are words Doctor MacKenzie “Mac” Reardon never thought he would hear although he has seen far too much sickness and death in his thirty years on Earth. The small isolated town of Possum Holler, West Virginia, has suffered numerous tragedies without a doctor and with a hospital that is nearly one hundred miles away. The people are poor and backward. At last, one of their own has managed to become a doctor. Doctor Reardon returns to his hometown to find his own heartache might be something no medicine can heal as he struggles with a narrow-minded community, ignorance, a rocky marriage to a city girl, Felicia Chambry Reardon, and an overwhelming attraction to the new school teacher/principal, Sunny Bankston, at the newly established school. Having met Sunny while in his ER rotation at Cook County Hospital when he was an intern and her having been shot in a school-violence incident, Mac knows the spirit of the woman, a spirit that is more akin to his than the spirit of the woman he married. Mac struggles against overwhelming odds to bring his community into the twenty-first century even as Sunny Bankston battles her own demons, including fighting an attraction to Dr. MacKenzie Reardon. This is a romance that is a bit different. Yes, there is romance of the man/woman kind, but there is also love of community and friendship, driving forces of the story. I want the reader to see growth and change in these characters. I do not want the reader to hate any of them. The main antagonist is a situation of poverty and ignorance, not an individual. All comments welcome.

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This is just a piece for all who have moments of separation from hope. If you have read and reviewed this.. I just want to know if format better. comment in forum ... The format was not like my own work so I finally went back and reformatted in to verses and changed a few simple words. I tried to single space it but it still appears double? Does the double spacing hurt it? Again ... if you have reviewed this before. Just leave comment in forum. We have so many new members that I would love to have feedback from some of them. This most likely will be the first piece I 'send out' haaaaaa... I know! I am such a wimp! I don't even care if I get rejected so why the fear? Just me!

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This is a story about the time in March 2007 that four tornadoes converged on my parent's farm and the destruction, devastation, trauma, loss, and sorrow it brought to our family. It is also about the sense of hope, help, growth, triumph, strength, family, friends, faith, and community that came along with it. There's even a weird sort of humor thrown in here and there . . . I hope you enjoy it. Unfortunately, due to the number of natural disasters we have going on in our country (and the world over)in recent years, it is a story we share with too many others . . .

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I'm just practicing my writing here. But with all the tornados that have hit Missouri and other regions in the past few years, I think this is a story worth telling . . .

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Hello . . . this is a song I wrote. It's as close to poetry that I'll probably ever get. Please let me know what you think. Any comments welcome.

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Another acoustic poem I have written, about, love, and seeing it before it's too late.

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This poem is included in my novel FullBlown Addictions. I think it fits the plot, especially now that the ending has been tied in, finally. Any last thoughts before this book goes to print will be helpful. Thanks.Zack

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Trying my hand at some lyric poetry. Hope you can savor and enjoy it.

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Attention all nit-pickers. I need your help. I’ve read this too many times and can no longer see grammar or punctuation issues, and I’m not sure but there may be a problem with tense. It seems fluid. Any other thoughts will be most welcomed. The story is complete as written and I’m at the point of submission. Thanks.

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A wealthy doctor who travels the world finds contentment when he returns to his home, and a lot more.

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This work is an attempt to explore the emotions and questions that arise from human tragedy. It raises the questions, but not the answers. While the questions raised are specific to a situation, similar questions are eventually asked by all. //God is defined in the broadest sense--and I hope it causes thoughtful introspection only. There is also a bit of "Eastern Philosophy" in this, as we are all affected by our experiences--and I spent 19 years in Japan and four of my seven children were born there.// A thought to consider; mustn't God loves us all?(regardless of our specific religion, or lack thereof). This is the first in a the first in a series of poems designed to provoke thought.

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This suicide poem of a Samurai is an attempt to underscore the cultural differences between western culture and eastern culture. The west is largely Christian. In Japan Christians amount to less than 3%. The culture is largely agnostic--Buddhism and Shintoism are the primary 'religions' although they are more philosophies than religions.//Imagine not believing in a supreme being and contemplating the end of your life as an absolute ending, by your own hand?//This poem is the creation of the author's imagination and is not at all authentic. I'm not Japanese but I've lived in Japan for nineteen years over a thirty five year period from the mid fifties to the late eighties. I graduated from a Japanese grade school in 1964.//The Japanese have a deep sense of honor. They are particularly sensitive to anything that reflects negatively on themselves, their family or their company. Most suicides in Japan are over issues of honor.//Personally, I'll never forget receiving a hand delivered wedding invitation on Monday, only to have it have it retrieved the following Monday, because the father of the bride opposed the marriage, and executed his wife, son and daughter with a Samurai sword, and then took his own life. The groom was the President of a large Japanese distribution company.//This poem, and many other cultural differences and nuances, are what inspired me to write the novel Executive Samurai.

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alpha omega virus disease mutation

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Whew, do I feel like Sleeping Beauty, back from my 100 year slumber. Shaking off the cobwebs and presenting this one to y'all for the standard chop-chop. Hey, it's great to be back.

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This poem came to me today. It is the first full length poem I've written in several years. It was almost haunting to write. I had a few remaining points on my account and was moved to share it. All I can ask is that all that see this poem, appreciate today, now, family success and dreams. And the larger excuse is that I miss everyone.

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I really believe this is my finest work.. I slave until I was so weak!. Couldn't even raise my glass of wine to my mouth! So used a straw! Its my birthday and I will play if I want to! ha ha ha! I have so many credits!!!!

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Correne Johnson, 18, is all the things most women never want to be: Overweight, illiterate and unloved. And she is being molested by her Aunts fiance. She uses her addiction to the Oprah Winfrey show and Oprah's TV wisdom's to challenge her Oppressor. These actions could either end her life or save her.

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One of those pieces that simply fill my mind without trying. In a way a story about myself and many other abused children whether it physical/sexual or emotional starvation. I beat the odds as do many as children are also warriors in their own right. They fight back.. as I did. Many sadly don't as the mountain too steep. Not meant to be a 'feel sorry' piece but more an eyeopening piece about offering encouragement over stifling it. Any and all feedback ... mostly emotional pull of the piece.

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Observations of living for over a half century. Well over may I add! Using an altered Haiku format. Definitely not in best writing form but sick or not ... a writer writes!! Critical commentary always welcomed as here to better my writing.

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Lots of really fine serious poetry on the site in recent days. Though I'm not a serious poet, in many ways, I offer this for your consideration. Comments welcome.

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I began writing about the 500 word limit for the competition and ended up with a comment on torture.

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A Tale of the Loved.

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A piece about honesty. You have read all the wonderful silken written poetry about love and all its fire and wonder. Now I invite you to read how it really is..

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As the day of the year approaches where one is challenged to gather and share oft overlooked, but never forgotten, appreciations, I thought these few words might resonate. For many, a muse is a fantasy. For some a reality. This is a dedication to the value, either way.

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A simple quick gathering of thoughts and flowing words. That's it folks! Any and all feedback.

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Another Christmas time posting to get the mind working, especialy with all the new conspiracy theory developments.Da Vinci, Illuminati, etc. Peace. Z

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Ulli sent me a magazine with a haunting picture on the front. This is in honor of that picture which I haven't been able to get out of my head. Hope it does it justice! Any and all feedback is welcomed but mostly what emotions were evoked.

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A brief free verse look at today.

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This is a story of a family and what war does to it.

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Inspired by the Civil War and the emotional impact felt by both sides. This is my first posting and looking for any type of feedback.

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This is the story of the struggles I am going through with my marriage after thinking everything was fine.

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Cynthia A. inspired the "romantic notions" I pondered on and off yesterday that then lead to this poem. I think I should be working on the TV poem, but, oh well.

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Being only able to imagine the loss sustained by Mishmont (Michelle)recently, I found myself deftly reminded of Dali's imaging of the eternal. Trying to ground my imaginings with words--that hopefully convey the condolences felt--I was next compelled to re-read a few chapters of Michelle's heartfelt dedication to her life partner. The lyricism of her writing drew me into my musical instrument of choice, a grand piano lost in a fire, and in its rather inordinate representation as one of my greatest losses (following that of my parents a few years ago). I was finally struck by the memories of the piano's ability to lift my spirits, and because the painting of Dali's hung behind it, the two impressions came forth as one. Knowing your love of music, hopefully my piano memories as metaphor will prove to offer a bit of solace in you time of grief. Wishing you peace. Odin

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A poem of hope for both my grandsons.

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Feeling about writing as one of the arts. How is see creating and staying true to the vision. Daring to be so naive and perhaps a little scared to catch the vision and to do it justice. But then... isn't it in the search and the journey that the soul lies like a snare.

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For those out there who's dreams have yet to come true.

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This is a revised piece in a way. It was written in haste right after the Democrats won back the majority. A friend called me and asked if I was happy. I said I was but feelings were nagging as had been here before all through my life. It seem rather pertinent to repeat it now with lots of editing as technically it was horrible. Hopefully, I have made progress but know there is still lots to correct.

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A friend of just went through this with his dad.

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I haven't a clue as to where this came from, but the title has been haunting me to put it into words! Enjoy!

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Simply put, this is an echo of my life. The words are exact, albeit put in "poetry form". I don't presume to tell you, the reader, anything. Just listen to YOUR heart!

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