“Whoa, get a load of that!” the voice announced as Martin and Cheryl looked up at the huge wooden vessel that docked in the place of where their weekend yacht used to stay. The couple stared astonished and enchanted at the same time as the deep and weathered voice bellowed out again,”C’mere me beauty! We’ve been waiting an eternity!” Cheryl without hesitation began to walk up the ramp towards the ship. Martin quickly followed her to the deck immediately looking for a camera and a television host with microphone in hand to reveal this elaborate prank conspired by his mischievous and resourceful neighbors at the marina. There was no such conspiracy this day.
As the two surveyed the deck, Martin and Cheryl found themselves unraveling the ropes that tethered them to the dock. The voice shouted more commands and a multitude of men shouted, “Aye aye, captain!” The sea of voices shouted back and forth like an eerie song, yet there was no one to be seen. As the dark vessel separated herself from the dock, Martin and Cheryl looked at each other with bewildered eyes as they both recalled that a couple and their yacht disappeared exactly a year ago. The last words that echoed through the marina was “All hands on deck,” and the couple and the unseen crew all grabbed scrambled for to their positions as the ship named “The Wanderer” moved towards the open waters.
Notes: Original pirate ship image shot with iPhone 5. iPhone 6 captured my friend Attila jumping at his Golden Rise Instameet last year. Edited with Union app and Mextures.
I sat alone in silence
until my soul was clear
I picked up my instrument
and sang for someone dear
Closest to my heart
A space reserved for only one
Trying to write a song night after night
adding words into a meaningful sum
Playing this worn guitar
I found at a garage sale
Strumming the few chords I know
when my voice fails
Yet I sing in my room
as if you were here
A neighbor listened and sang her own
as my words resonated to all who would hear
The lyrics are complete
It’s time to let you hear me play
this song to win your heart
and convince you to stay
for a lifetime.
Dedicated to my lovely wife, Shellet. Thanks for reading.
The flower fades
as we can see
yesterday in full glory
now traveling to a distant memory.
Vibrant and springing life
once boasting and bold
color has bled away
standing, yet wilting and cold
Life is to be cherished
its span is too small
capture every moment
until eternity calls
Love as much as you can love
live bigger than your mind
give more than you keep
before there is no more time
Because we will all fade
and in the end we will see
that we all had the gift
to pen a beautiful story.
On top of the world
Her soul swimming in the bliss
One last breath alone.
Wind and rain swept coast
A man left alone with thoughts
Walking on the beach
Thanks for reading my latest haiku. Check out the Steller version too.
It’s the beginning of the NBA season again, and my beloved Lakers are giving me a million reasons not to stay beloved. This is going to be a long season. While I am doing a lot of cringing, sighing, and throwing household objects at the wall, at least I can dream of my own highlights. I think if you are a fan of basketball, it is hard not to have your own ESPN highlight scripted in your head.
FIVE….. Down one with just a breath of time left on the clock. The arena is deafening. Stalling at the top of the key, he steps forward with the dribble. The defenders are scrambling, anticipating the final play.
FOUR…. His first step down the lane is met with bodies with the opposite uniforms collapsing on him. He seems trapped in the sea of bodies enveloping around him.
THREE… His crossover causes an entire squad to shift the wrong way in unison. One defender and 15 feet of space between the ball and the net is all who is left to deny him of the W.
TWO.. He pump fakes with time slipping away. The defender bites and jumps high in the air with bad intentions but is now airborne and not able to use his length to block the shot.
ONE. He jumps fading away out of the outstretching arms of the opponent. His hand flicks the basketball towards the orange cylinder. All eyes track the ball arc through the air.
ZERO- The buzzer is barely heard over of the pandemonium of the home crowd screaming with joy. The TV announcer screams, “Nothing but net! He won the game! He won the game!”
I met this surfer man at dawn
who introduced himself as John.
Hoping for waves but most were gone,
so he kept chatting looking to bond.
I studied where he parked his old ride.
His car was filled with older things inside.
I wondered if his belongings could share their pride.
What tales they’d tell and secrets they’d confide.
John said that he lived down the street
I gather he’s says that to all those he meets.
He’s really a millionaire being discreet.
Looking for someone to sit in his passenger seat.
To take on adventures up and down the coast
Taking surf safaris that only few can boast
My theory is that he’s got pockets deeper than most
searching for someone he could trust and host.
Then again, he could be this guy named John who wanted to surf, and I let my imagination get away to share on this post.
I knew that I wanted to write when I was about 20 years old. I was working at the park as a recreation leader, and the kids and teenagers wanted to have a talent show. The staff wanted to do a skit about the challenges of being a staff member at the park. I remembered insisting that I write the script which I did. About 5 of us rehearsed the skit, and I think the story was about kids at the park being out of control and the recreation leaders having a meltdown as a result. We performed this skit on stage in front of the kids, and it was a really enjoyable time. When I heard the kids laughing, I realized this is something that I like to do.
I finished the initial draft of my first children’s story 15 years ago, but didn’t know how to publish it or even how to share the story. I didn’t have the drawing skills to illustrate my own photos, so I looked for help. After working but never finishing the project with a couple of artist friends, I shelved it for a few seasons.
Then the iPhone happened in 2007, and I got hooked on mobile photography. I realized that I could illustrate my stories with photography. The funky-filtered, over-processed pictures that the photo purists criticize about are the images that I want to illustrate my stories. I get to be my own illustrator. How about that?
Today’s explosion of social media gives me the opportunity to share my writing to a much wider audience than I ever had before. Even if it’s just a handful of folks that ready my story and tap on the like or favorite or reshare button that is still a handful more than I ever had before that enjoyed a story or poem I created.
For what seemed like many weeks, Lenny passionately practiced the song his uncle taught him. He practiced in his bedroom before school, at his secret spot during recess, Mondays after school with Mr. Trumbo, and in his bedroom before he went to sleep. Lenny’s mom loved going to the beach, and it only took them fifteen minutes to walk to the beach from their house. Whenever his mom went to the beach, Lenny brought his violin. It was his favorite spot away from school. The park was also one of his trusted spots. Lenny and his new violin had become inseparable.
Notes: You are reading an excerpt from my 1st children’s picture book, Violen. Yes, I missed including some text on a previous post, so I will call this one page 4.5. Violen is a story about a young boy who has an extraordinary gift and passion to play the violin. If you like my story, please share this post. Thanks for your support. Image shot by Albert Montes and edited by me using an iPhone and Glaze app.