Sheila's Dribs 'n Drabs

Grandpa says angels make too much noise. Donkeys make more And wise men snore in tents on plains Where dangers roar While shepherds seek a king.

Darkly shadowed Starkly drawn Partly hallowed Harken, dawn is storming winter’s Broken thorn of Mourning Shorn of Sleeping Keeping Secrets Shadowed Torn

Torn and tattered Worn and battered Broken shattered Dreams of thee Once defending Those whose bending Knees were wending Paths to thee Once so certain This bright curtain Couldn’t hurt them Once so free Now betrayed That freedom slayed The price of braver-y Shall be Torn and tattered Worn and battered Broken shattered Dreams of thee.

Shout in an empty Room and a tree Falls in a forest No one to see it. Nobody hears Papermill dreams Silently screamed So fearfully laid On the page.

Nobody’s looking. Nobody’s there. Nobody’s watching. Nobody cares. Nobody’s commenting. Nobody shares. Facebook forgotten, tweet empty despair.

Written in response to http://writing.gather.com/viewArticle.action?articleId=281474981957642 but only half the required length (250 words instead of 500) 'cause I used the other half trying to log onto Gather. Shortly after we moved to the States, someone asked if I used alcohol. Wondering briefly why they cared about my cleaning products I answered, “I’m not sure what’s in this brand.” But I do drink wine and my questioner took offense at my misunderstanding. Using Twitter may be a similarly incomprehensible source of unutterable confusion. I search for hashtags (#5minutes, for example, when advertising 5-minute stories, or #’random-string-of-letters’ when supporting a random-string-named tweet group). I hover my mouse over a resulting miniscule splurge of pre-shrunken information, then click on the little blue “retweet” that appears. It’s almost magic, but I’m still not sure if it’s “using,” “abusing,” or merely failing to use the song of the birds. Hashtags let pe...

The wind howls but it has no strength and cannot tumble me. The wind howls and it might be wolves. They will not come for me. The wind howls and the branches bend but they will not break or fall. The wind howls and the ages send their answer. Hear their call. The future howls, and past unseated all.

When the chess board’s gray on gray And the pieces fade away And the sky is night and the night is day And the kids are refusing to play, Numbers turn into words; Queen to d 4 is heard And the gasp--what occurred?-- Sweetly furred, ‘twas the cat For she’s gray as the stormcloud And faster than mouse At chess-pass. Then the child Sets the board up with smiles And says, “Hold her Mom now While we play.”

I’ve set the time. Just bring one thing back, just one iota of proof. That’s all I need. I’ve set the place, just needs a little refinement. I’ve set the carrier wave to bring me home. I open the box. “Mom, where’s Daddy gone?” says Sam. Didn’t it work? “I don’t know. That’s strange.” Can’t they see? “I’m here,” I try to shout with my silent voice, plastic face all frozen and still. I’m here beside the manger with ragged robes and a box in my hand—a cross between a shepherd and a king. And there’s no going back.

Peter’s so possessive about his stuff. He’s got this box he brought home from work and no-one’s allowed to touch it. But Sam hid it in his pocket before church. He’s pulling off the ribbons now, face so intent. I lean over his shoulder—just to peak. It’s empty. Church is going overboard on incense these days. It stinks. Then I hear an animal noise, see a camel, and look up into the face of a king. What’s going on here? Choir’s still singing. I hear Peter’s voice, “I thought I told you…” and I’m beside him in church again.

Daddy said “Don’t open the box,” but it’s Christmas. Who doesn’t open stuff at Christmas-time? When Dad’s not looking I pull on the ribbon and climb inside my spaceship, rattling, shaking its way to the stars. But I don’t know why it lands me on a freezing cold hillside. Sheep bleat miserably and Christmas tree fairies sing carols out of tune. A boy tugs my arm, shouting, “Hurry! Come and see.” Then my Dad takes the box away from me. “I thought I told you…” I open my eyes to Sunday’s choir and church. But how? What’s in the box?

In flowerbeds the flags wave bright red blue and white, while orange flies to label cables, lines and wires amid the arid gray of scorching clay and all around the grass is turning brown. Will you still celebrate tonight or wonder why our freedoms take such fright?

I depend on my spouse for my home; He depends on me to keep the hearth aglow. I depend on my kids for youth; they on me for growth. I depend on my government to keep it all afloat and more and most I depend on God. Maybe independence is the freedom to know True dependence is rights and responsibilities both. Find another Five-Minute Bible Story spotlighted at the Virtual EBook Fair again this weekend http://sheiladeethstudies.blogspot.com/2013/07/sampling-story-of-freedom-from-five.html https://www.facebook.com/events/211998585618730/  

We danced by the moonlight and sang by the stars. We wandered the universe far Far away from our home. We whispered sweet nothings and emptied our hearts. We warmed up tomorrow with sparks Of our lingering love. We danced in the evening when bodies were stilled And aging had taken its fill. We were never alone. For the music's still playing, the dance carries on And the future will never be gone. It's our hearth and our home. I don't know if the music's still playing at the ebook fair, but you'll find a five minute Bible story sample at http://sheiladeethstudies.blogspot.com and more sample reading at the virtual ebook fair. Just go through the gate: http://samplesaturday.blogspot.co.uk/

Mirror mirror on the wall who's the fairest of them all? Who can answer, who can see Who can tell without deceit? Who can listen, who can hear When the truth is whispered near? Mirror mirror silence please 'Cause I don't want to know. Want some great reading samples? Want to find some good ebooks to take on vacation? Then head on over to the virtual ebook fair. It's happening every Saturday, but the doors stay open after the music's stopped and the pages still turn. Just go through the gateway at http://samplesaturday.blogspot.co.uk/ and see. And don't miss my booth at http://sheiladeethstudies.blogspot.com

"Fair's fair," said he. "But I'm dark," said she. "Fair's hair," said her sister. "You're blonde." "Fair shares," said he. "Share with me," said she. "Shares are mine," said her sister and took him in her arms so now they're gone. Meanwhile the virtual ebook fair's meeting at http://samplesaturday.blogspot.co.uk/ --just go through the gate. And don't forget to visit my booth at http://sheiladeethstudies.blogspot.com

Prancing ponies fall asleep Dancing lightning doesn't keep Music's silent, wheels stand still Strangers look down from the hill Packing dreams and stalls away Nothing lingers, nothing stays Chancing children's promise gone Day the passing fair moves on. But you can still enjoy the Virtual Ebook Fair--the sample pages keep turning even after the music stops. Just wander to Facebook and see: https://www.facebook.com/events/381254251993089/ or read a five-minute story from my Five Minute Bible Story Series (TM) at http://sheiladeethstudies.blogspot.co.uk/2013/05/so-here-i-am-at-fair-again.html

Are you going to the fair? I lost my little brother there; I know not how. I know not where He’s gone to be a soldier. In the twisted mirror’s glare Painted ponies stop and stare. Generations watching; they’re All gone as well for soldiers. Time and tide, the fair is there. Ponies ride and soldier’s bear Our burdens. Blessings show we care. Give thanks today to soldiers. And on a completely different note, the virtual ebook fair may be over but the pages are still turning at https://www.facebook.com/events/614229538588751/ , or http://sheiladeethstudies.blogspot.com/2013/05/so-here-i-am-at-fair-again.html. See you there!