City Park


There’s a place. Peaceful. Quiet.  The bustle of the city avoids this place.  The East River makes no sound as it conveys water to the sea.  The wind sings as it pass through channels of buildings behind.   The world is at bay.

Alex sits in place.   The torments of his life are somewhere else.  The cold March air keeps others away too.   Solitude is hard to keep once it’s found.

His mind flashes pieces of what brought him here.   The voices raised.   The feeling of being lost.   A body without a real place.  … This is his place.   It’s the only place.

Peace enters his mind.  His heart is too wounded for that.  It’s beating, but labored in its rhythm.   The headache is fading fast.   The tightness in the chest from screaming is almost gone.   The blood pressure slowly loosening it’s grip.

In a moment things fade.   Vision goes dark.  His place brings him that final peace.

Written as part of a challenge called Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers.   Details can be found at


Wrapping up Everyday Inspiartions

It’s time to move on!  Already!  Good thing I pulled out the suitcase.  Ok what do I have from the class.

  Several new people to read. Check

A handful of posts that were inspired by prompts and those readers. Check

New ideas mostly from reading others view points. Check

Another challenge throw at me.  Quotes. Check

I finally was able to force myself to read everyone’s posting. Check

Reblogged several people that wrote well and had less followers. Check

Entered the world of guest writers. Check (many thanks for those)

Was able to coherently follow every prompt. Check

New followers. Check

This was most fun I had with a Blogging University class.  I hope to keep up with all of you moving Foward.  I would love to add more but the beach is calling.

Decoration Day


Officially it’s Memorial Day in the US. But it was once Decoration Day.  The origins of this run deep.  The Union troops first celebrated the holiday on May 30, 1868.  But their were ones before that.

April 26,1866 was the first offical celebration of the Civil War dead in the south.  The gravesodd the Confederate troops were decorated with ribbons and buttons.  It was a symbol of homespun touches.  The south want left with much. Most of the people in the south eye fast from rich before the war.

There small marking on Anniversary of major battles were common for both Northern and Southern graves.  This was a war that no one thought would ever come.  It’s a war that started with only a Northern Army and  Northern Navy.   The South were farmers with little industry.   Every able bodied man who wasn’t a plantain owner fought in the South.

The Northern Armies were full of troops that well to do people paid others to take their place.  In the North, a grand horse race track called Saratoga opened in the height of the war.  The Southern people raced to Richmond to riot for bread.  The honor of the fighters for the South was not lost that all but Gettysburg was fought in their homes, their fields, over their crops.

Both sides died in a war to force the country back together. From the beginning when families watch on the side lines outside Alexandria.  To the surrender at Appomattox Courthouse.  These men lead to a celebration to honor all those lost in battle under Stars and Stripes

Anecdotally Coming Through in Waves

The salty air surfs above.

White caps push-up

They tumble and spread.

Behind them another line waits.
Crashes echo

Roars build and  vanish.

Waves jump on the waters back.

The graceful act of low flight try to reach higher

Pulled back down

The water washes white.

It ripples and races faster toward the sand


I’m jealous of your hate.

You hold it closer than I’ll ever be.

It builds walls thick as a castle.

Invisible from your inside view.

The coldest day has nothing on your rage.

It’s moves you in ways I used to do.

It calls to you inner being

It chokes out the day

Turns happy into sheer misery.

You are blind by your hate.

I could show pictures of how it looks

But Braille requires effort and belief.

The power to destroy is addictive 

The power to love is weak 

Unless we both support each other.

My hand long callused from pulling for two

I look for the girl I knew

I hope for the one I love

I dream of the day you love me more

But until then, I’m jealous of your hate.

For it moves your  heart and your  mind