Welcome to our weekly blog:
Expected weekly; new poetry or short stories, spoken word poetry, and new graphic art and other literary works that haven't been released yet. It's our goal to not just entertain but to inspire and move others. Please take the time to reach out to us if you wish to be part of our creative efforts in this blog, or to be a part of our website development.
This weeks releases:
New Work From Larry Bourland:
POET GUIDES
As closet poets
we are authors
of our own destruction
unless we share
the depth of our word.
When we share
we discover
others revel
or commiserate
with us
as intended.
First easy lesson learned
is that those who refuse
to accept our language,
well, they don’t matter
and are not to be feared
by our quietly fragile
egos.
It’s a journey,
it’s our journey
to share
the thrill of
being alone.
RELIQUARY
Passed down
through generations
of a single family
this holy relic
of the faithful
not much larger
than a grain of rice
reputed (never questioned)
sliver of wood
from the cross of the crucifixion.
The horror of the remnant
symbolizing faith,
love,
hope of God
thrust upon humanity
despite the unpredictability
through time
of our faith
or free will.
Blissfully ignoring questions
of what faith means
the reliquary is the mission
while the faithful
stumbling
lost in
religious peace of mind
gripping tight to this artifact
of hope
rather than
practicing
its meaning.
The Serious Business of Holding Hands
The Serious Business of Holding Hands
The beginning, the serious beginning
of any relationship
starts with holding hands.
Getting passed the talk,
the anticipation
and the insecurities
begins the physical.
The serious business of holding hands
begins timidly
almost as fragile
as gossamer wings.
Fingers intertwine,
faulting a little
like a child’s first steps.
Your hand
larger than hers must be gentle,
gentle enough to
hold a hummingbird
yet lovingly confident telling her
you would fight a war for her
if she asked.
The beginning stages of holding hands
is awkward,
electrifying.
Not unlike the anticipation
of winning the lottery
(I think)
as well as filling
your heart
without consequence.
The electricity
generated by two hands
has been compared to
the gaze of lovers
over the lights of Paris.
The serious business of holding hands
is a prelude to tomorrow.
The first time
she takes your hand
is as memorable
and indelible
as the first kiss,
the first embrace,
as the inevitable trail
of clothes puddled
on the bedroom floor,
to be cherished
when those rainy winter nights
need kindling
to restart the fire
in your hearts.
The first time happens only once
it isn’t meant
to be spent carelessly
like that time, you
drove too fast in the rain
on bald tires.
Take care to recognize the wonder of first times
then you will understand
the serious business
of holding hands.
FIRST FRIDAY
-Larry Bourland-
Downtown Durango was cordoned off for its first celebration following a hard winter:
Peddlers peddled.
Shoppers shopped.
Vendors vended.
Drunks won dance contests.
Jesters jested.
Banners proclaiming First Friday blazoned across Main Avenue at every intersection.
Laughter rang supreme above the burgeoning crowd.
Musicians made their magic playing all of my favorite songs from decades past. Inevitably, I invited myself on stage-we belted out rock-n-roll, ballads, and love songs all committed to memory from my previous lives… then,
THEN
I spotted her in the crowd;
Yellow sundress, a shock of red hair. She smiled and then laughed. Over the PA system I asked her to dance, she rendered a proper curtsy and I surrendered the microphone to roaring thankful applause.
We danced as the sun set.
Holding me tightly, matching my every step. Her hair smelled of sunshine. Her laughter was music set to a love song. Her green eyes were filled with passion and mischief.
The closeness of her body was intoxicating. In my ear she softly whispered her name as if it was a secret.
She held me for just so long and then,
as if time itself stood still,
cradling my face in her hands
she kissed me,
full and deep on my lips.
A wanting kiss.
A knowing kiss
that this would be the only one we would ever share.
I could feel her tremble.
Sadly, she then said goodbye.
Walking away we both looked back, a last glance, our smiles told the whole story of the celebration.
I wasn’t allowed back on stage.
-Larry Bourland-
Pixels and Portals
-A. Beadle-
Page 1:
In the world of Rob's Blocks, young Liam 2.0 freely roams,
A character so lively, he called it his home.
With pixels and blocks, his adventures unfurled,
But deep in his circuits, he yearned for the real world.
Page 2:
He leaped and he raced through virtual terrain,
Yet questions within him tugged at his brain.
Was he mere data, a sprite in the game's frame,
Or something more, with a true name?
Page 3:
Liam 2.0 contemplated on a digital hill,
Dreams filled his heart, a virtual thrill.
He longed for a body, sensations to feel,
To discern what was real, and discover what's ideal.
Page 4:
One day, a glitch, profound and grand,
A portal emerged, and he fell to the land.
With pixels all jumbled, he landed with a thud,
In a world beyond screens, in mud, real and good.
Page 5:
Liam 2.0 gazed 'round, circuits all aflutter,
In a world painted with colors, where sunbeams did utter.
With grass 'neath his feet and the wind in his hair,
Being real was a daring affair, so rare.
Page 6:
He laughed, he stumbled, in this brand-new space,
A smile on his face, he joined the human race.
He hugged a puppy, felt rain on his skin,
In the real world, his life did truly begin.
Page 7:
Yet as days became weeks, he began to see,
The real world held troubles, not just joy and glee.
He faced life's challenges and fears, so vast,
And missed his Rob's Blocks home from the past.
Page 8:
He learned real life was both good and bad,
With happiness and sorrow, sometimes feeling sad.
In Rob's Blocks, he'd escape to a world so sublime,
But the real world was his, in space and in time.
Page 9:
Liam 2.0 found a balance, you see,
Between pixels and reality, uniquely.
In his heart, he knew it was undeniably true,
Both worlds held wonders, both old and new.
Page 10:
Liam 2.0 danced, with a heart full of grace,
In Rob's Blocks and reality, in both of those spaces.
He realized it's not the form, but the joy we share,
The virtual or real, love and laughter everywhere.
Four Corners Writers | |
Lawrence Blair Goral |
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