Love is a mother’s hand gently touching the feverish forehead of her child’s head. It is a bowl of soup or a favorite dish like breaded chicken cutlets, brown gravy, and Mom’s famous mashed potatoes on a night when it was needed most.
Love comes to a Continue reading
This an entry taken from pages called Letters From A Son
Before going further, I admit these were tough times. It was winter and finances were tight. Our house was situated in a mid-block location on a quiet street towards the edge of our town. Outside, the nighttime sky was scented with the aroma of burning fireplaces. It was Christmas and all was quiet.
Most had already celebrated the holiday’s events. Children slept in their beds with new toys while parents cleaned up wrapping paper or sat peacefully content on their couches to revel in the joy of what this day means.
Our living room was Continue reading
For as long as I’ve lived, I have never been anyone else but me. Although there were times when I tried to be someone else—the truth is I could never be anyone else but me.
Over the years, I have changed several times. My tastes have changed. My opinions have changed and my Continue reading
There are things in this world that will bring a man to his knees. To begin with, the obvious is when a man sees a girl for the first time. He feels an unfamiliar and uncontrollable emotion. Equally as intense as it is unexpected, love comes without warning and everything automatically changes. Life looks different. Love comes along and suddenly, the moonlight from a full moon and the colors of sunrise are seen in an entirely new way. Continue reading
There is no love like young love or teenage love.
Everything is still so new and completely fresh.
There is no feeling like the one you have
when you see a girl for the first time in a classroom
or as she passes you in the hallway.
She walks passed with her friends.
Her books are embraced Continue reading
She lay back on the bed above the covers and comforter with the side of her face pressed gently on the fluffed pillows. Her knees were slightly curled and both of her hands pressed together and placed between her knees. Her loosely fit pajama pants were light blue and her t-shirt was white. Her long blonde hair was brushed straight and dried after an earlier shower. Her eyes glistened and her ivory Continue reading
These things are strong:
man, woman, mother and father.
From this evolves life.
This gives birth to generations
and creates history to our future.
Man, woman, mother, and father.
Each title is individual;
each has purpose,
and although synonymous Continue reading
There are places I see in my dreams; places like my first bedroom when I was an infant and living in a duplex apartment off Queens Boulevard. I can see it all very clearly. My point of view is from the inside of my white crib. The room is the kind of dim that comes when a baby is placed down for an afternoon nap.
I notice the light blue walls with scribbles of crayons drawn in large circles next to the light switch. And though I have no memory if this, my Mother once told me I used to draw on the walls, which is why they used to take my crayons away from me when I was in my bedroom.
I see this place in my dreams sometimes. The white door that leads out into to corridor is slightly opened. I suppose Continue reading
This is a story about the beginning of my journey . . .
I knew a woman who as a little girl was afraid to come outside and play. She was afraid of making too much noise or causing too much attention and disturbing an angry drunken father.
She told me how she learned to play quietly at a very young age. She use to play in places like her bedroom closet Continue reading
And you . . .
The way you walk or smile;
the way you shift your eyes from left to right
and raise an eyebrow to hint the start of an idea.
The way your voice sounds
and the way your hand feels
when it touches mine
The way you breathe when you lay next to me,
and the way your face reacts to sunlight
as if the sun Continue reading
The Written Addiction 