Charmie's thread of unread, unloved poetry and shorts...

2/6/2008 5:20:04 PM	Charmie's thread of unread, unloved poetry and shorts...
charmie Glasgow, MT age: 61	What Does He Want?? carlylyn What does he want when he dreams? Is he going away... harboring schemes? Is he looking for the only love he will find locked in dreams, deep in his mind...? A woman so pure, so gentle and sweet; yet a vixen too, a challenge to meet. His brow furrows deeply, he twists and curls drops words from his mouth like falling pearls. Listening closely, hoping to hear the words he utters, alas, not for my ear. Lying awake, closing my eyes, I know our past has been nothing but lies.
2/6/2008 5:23:05 PM	Charmie's thread of unread, unloved poetry and shorts...
charmie Glasgow, MT age: 61	one I did last year when a dear friend passed: I Love You of course i love you; didn't you hang the moon? isn't it you, love, who placed the sun in the sky each morn? i know your lips are whispering in my ear as the wind gently caresses my face; my heart is buoyed, reassured in the summer thunder, fall colors, winter white snow. you are everywhere; this i know
2/6/2008 5:25:33 PM	Charmie's thread of unread, unloved poetry and shorts...
charmie Glasgow, MT age: 61	Somewhere On the Coast of Maine carllyn We met, somewhere on the coast of Maine where the sand and water overlapped, rushing into reach others' space, we met. My heart did a little fluttery thing as you curled my fingers around the lost keys, the ones I had been searching for. Canopied; disappearing into wet sand, just a shiny tip catching the sun, they found you. And you found me. We met, somewhere on the coast of Maine the next year, as planned. No ocean shore now; rocky cliffs overhead with firs and scrubs to compliment our meeting. We met again in a town in Maine; a place just right for our needs. Silken ropes of vertigo spinning though our souls, trapped in a myriad of twisted emotion we found a room. Hammered hearts worn thin with blows of deceit, edges sharp with debris of old lies, our battered spirits would rest. The Green Fairy sat under the shade of the Hemlock that day in a town in Maine not where we met but close enough and held her glass high as we toasted Our Love. Somewhere on the coast of Maine.
2/6/2008 5:27:48 PM	Charmie's thread of unread, unloved poetry and shorts...
charmie Glasgow, MT age: 61	A published short story I wrote last year. Genre: western Whispering Jesse carlylyn coe “Well, that’s about it,” Ken reflected as he put the neck of the brown bottle to his mouth and swallowed deep. “It’s over, but too soon for me.” “Yeah, me too, the years flew by. Seems like yesterday when I met her. She was a pretty one, that she was.” replied Jim. Kens’ partner, Jim, took a hit on his cigarette, blowing smoke from his nostrils, remembering. “I can still see her long golden locks of hair. Seems like the wind was always knocking it out of place; pushing it in her eyes. She’d shake her head as if swearing at the wind and then forget about it.” Jim mashed his cigarette butt onto the top of the bar. “It’s her eyes I’ll never forget. Big brown eyes, full of love and softness. But boy, when she got riled up, those eyes would flash and you’d better get out of her way. That girl meant business!” Ken sat for a moment seeing Jesse’s face, her eyes, and feeling her all around as he sat at the bar with Jim. “Yeah, she did have pretty eyes, and while I hate to mention it, she had a nice body too.” Jim glanced sidelong at Ken, watching for a sign of anger. None came. Ken stared straight ahead and began to speak of Jesse, pulling his memories from deep in his heart. “She was young when we met, full of piss and vinegar. Almost too young for me, but I took to her hard and fast. She was everything I ever wanted, all I thought she’d be. She lived up to my expectations and never once let me down.” “The first day we spent together was like magic. It was right then I wanted to bring her home with me. But I had to win her over first and it weren’t easy. She had others vying for her and she didn’t come cheap. I guess she finally took to me cause she ended up living with me soon after---at least till you came along, she did.” Ken looks at Jim full on, a bit of resentment showing in his eyes. “She was a looker,” Jim said. “Those eyes, that hair, and her legs, so long and lean, make a man want to stay with her all day. When I first took her from you, there was guilt, I gotta tell ya, but I loved her so much, I had to have her. She was everything I wanted, too, and she never dropped the ball on me either.” Jim pulled on his beer again. Both men sat quietly, thinking about their years with Jesse. Each had different memories, but the memories were tied together, like a lasso typing up a doggie at a branding. Jim looked at Ken. “She gave us both fine youngsters, didn’t she, man? Two sets of twins, one set each. And the best mother a man could want for his offspring! Why, she was as gentle as could be, and taught those young ones of hers how to behave.” “That she did, my friend, that she did. I remember when she had our boys. She was in pain, but never cried out, just worked at pushing those babes out like it was something she’d done a hundred times.” Ken’s eyes clouded over as he remembered the day the twins were born, how he watched Jesse give birth and stroked her brow after, telling her how good she had done. “She did as good for you as she did me.” Ken told Jim. “Your boys all turned out real good, and she was a good mother to them, too, even though she was older.” Jim looked at Ken as he heard the words and he too, remembered Jesse giving birth that warm summer night, many years gone by. “I guess we will never forget that gal, either of us. But it's over now; she’s gone and buried. Hell, I missed her after you took her, but I knew she was in good hands. She couldn’t have gone to a better man, Jim.” “Let’s git outa here. I don’t know about you, but I got work to git done.” Ken finished the last of the beer in the bottle and reached for his wallet. “Me too,” answered Jim, as he picked up his hat Ken pulled out a twenty for the bartender and the two men head for the door. “See ya later, buddy,” Ken threw over his shoulder at Jim. Jim’s feet are in the stirrups as he sits on one of Jesse’s twins, while Ken swings his leg over the saddle of one of his ponies Jesse gave so lovingly. Both men ride off, each leaving memories and a twenty dollar bill at Stockman’s.
2/6/2008 5:29:39 PM	Charmie's thread of unread, unloved poetry and shorts...
charmie Glasgow, MT age: 61	One Man Band carlylyn coe Tell me why winter stays within my heart when it is late May, and the bluebirds are just beginning to raise young? Affirm that I have a chord you can strike, like C, deep and resonating; and tell me you are not leaving town for good your guitar flung across your back upside down; disgruntled. The one man band moves on, as does the rolling sea, never to rest; while the artist takes brush in hand bringing life to canvas with a down stroke of paint. I am left once more to your wanderings and inherited restlessness; the pull resides deep in your gypsy heart. The warmth of the south will return your music to my ears as fall cools the tar beneath your feet of trampled summer days and unknown starry nights. Irish Traveler home; calculated return.
2/6/2008 5:34:32 PM	Charmie's thread of unread, unloved poetry and shorts...
charmie Glasgow, MT age: 61	evolution occurs carlylyn coe shedding tears stripping away fears enabling new growth to appear leaving weakness far from here strength gained self esteem; no pain a near-perfect meld for the heart you once held
2/6/2008 5:37:48 PM	Charmie's thread of unread, unloved poetry and shorts...
charmie Glasgow, MT age: 61	Breaking Up Is Hard To Do carlylyn coe They say that breaking up is hard to do Now I know, know that it’s true….. The lines of the song ran through Cat’s mind all day, relentlessly. After three days, she began to hum the words, much to the irritation of her co-workers. She didn’t seem to notice when she began to sing them under her breath, until one of her friends mentioned that she seemed to be obsessed with the song. “Well, I guess it’s because of Gary,” she said to Barb over quesadillas one Saturday afternoon after shopping. “So you finally did it? Broke it off with him, am I right?” Barb was her closest friend but Cat hadn’t told the news of the recent break-up with her long time steady. Cat bit into a cheesy, chicken filled forkful and wiping her lips replied, “Yeah, he was getting too possessive. I couldn’t even do something like this without asking his permission or making him mad.” “I didn’t know he was that bad,” answered Barb. “But then, I never did like him much. I always thought you could do better.” Cat thought about this and mentally agreed with her friend. She could do better, and next time, she would. “So what did you say to him; was it painless or did he put up a fight?” Barb asked. “Nah; he was okay with it. I think he had somebody else going on the side anyway. I overheard him on the phone one day, and then he went out later. Came back way later than usual.” Cat picked up her purse, checking her teeth in the small mirror she carried. “I’m surprised he didn’t give you a hard time, if he was so possessive. He must’ve wanted out too.” Barb had the bad habit of picking out the smallest detail and making it an issue, thought Cat, as she looked at her friend across the blue tiled table top. Come to think about it, where had Barb been hanging out lately? “Well, anyway, he’s gone,” said Cat, “Now, let’s talk about you…what have you been up to these past few weeks? Any new guys?” “Well, I am kinda seeing someone, but nobody you know. He works construction.” Barb signaled the server for the check. “In fact, I ‘m meeting him later tonight, so I’d guess we’d better go.” Cat let her friend pay the check this time. Usually she got it, but it was Barb’s turn, Cat said she would leave the tip. They walked out into the bright sun, putting on sunglasses and saying goodbye to each other, they got into separate cars. Cat waved to Barb and yelled, “Bye! Have fun tonight and call me tomorrow, k?” “ K…we’re going line dancing at the Lone Star with a group of his friends. I’ll give you all the gory details tomorrow.” Barb adjusted her seatbelt, waved to Cat, and drove off, blending into the New Mexico traffic smoothly. Cat sat still for a few minutes with the air conditioning running, cooling the interior of her Jeep. She lit a cigarette, and inhaled heavily, blowing smoke through her nostrils and chuckling to herself. She pulled her heavy dark hair into a pony tail and began to cool off faster. Clicking her seatbelt, she backed out of the parking spot and drove out onto the highway, not ready to head for home quite yet. She drove till she was outside of town, checked her gas gauge and found it nearly full, just as she had thought. Twenty-five miles should do it, she thought. Distance between her and the city, away from the people, the stress and the constant song running through her brain all the damn time. Thirty minutes later she turned her Jeep left onto a dirt road rarely used. Her mood had lightened already, she was calmer somehow, and the cool air in the car fanning her face and hair helped her relax. She drove for about three miles and turned once again, this time onto a long driveway. She knew she would find the shack at the end, with the abandoned truck out back and the shed still full of rusted shovels and other tools…some things never changed and for that she was grateful. Stopping the Jeep, she turned off the engine and opened the door. The heat hit her hard, but she had expected it, and began peeling off her outer garments, until she was clad in only a tank tee and shorts. She walked to the shed, pulling open the hinged door and found the long handled shovel she wanted. Dragging the shovel behind her Damn, it is freakin’ hot! she opened the rear door of the Jeep and carefully peeled back the cover over the wheel well. Her treasure was there, quietly waiting for her. I do love to garden. Cat lifted and hoisted the burlap bundle until she had pulled it from the deep well, and jumping back as it tumbled to the ground with a whap!, she dragged it to the side of the house. She dug then, and it took longer than she wanted. Water was important though, she knew, and so she stopped for breaks to pull on the water bottle and swallow deeply. She finished the digging near sunset and opened the burlap around the root ball of her latest shrub. It wasn’t in the best condition, but it had been awfully hot the past few days. She rolled it into the hole and stood looking down at Gary. He was pretty dark now, and his face had an odd expression, like he wasn’t sure where he was. Cat laughed at herself and thought that was a good one---he didn’t know where he was! Laughing loud and singing, Cat threw shovels full of dirt over poor dead, stiff Gary, who indeed had nary a clue. Barb sat home all evening, calling Gary on his cell phone. “That bastard.” She thought, “I bet he’s gone back to Cat.”
2/6/2008 5:39:31 PM	Charmie's thread of unread, unloved poetry and shorts...
charmie Glasgow, MT age: 61	Final Considerations carlylyn Prologue: Part One----- It looked like a simple butcher knife. The man emerged from the house as if in a trance, dropped the bloodied knife to the floor of the deck as the bright lights played over his body. His clothes were covered with the blood of the girl he had brutally murdered minutes before. He did not resist as the detective read him his rights and the two officers strapped his wrists together with cable cuffs. As they lead him down the steps to the waiting patrol car, he turned his head and whispered softly, "I'll miss you, but I'll always have you." The Story… Her blood spills to the floor as the knife plunges deep. She's on her knees now; he's fast, pulling her back. He'll never give up, never let her go. Lyn heard the noise before she woke from the dream. She thought she was still partially in the dream, but the noise scraped again, sounding like a step and a drag. She sat up slowly, listening, hoping it was her imagination, or better yet, part of the fading dream. She made her way into the dark living room, careful to feel the walls and furniture as she went. The surveillance camera showed Lyn's front yard, the sidewalk next to the driveway and part of her private road on the TV screen. Night vision showed moths flying past the eye of the tiny camera; everything in the camera's range would show up on the TV screen. That had been three nights ago. It was after two a.m., just about the time she thought he was showing up. He didn't come every night; his visits were erratic, sometimes four nights a week and other weeks two or three times. She suspected he planned it to keep her off balance. The guy she had seen was a large figure of a man leaving the property, on the edge of the driveway, out of the light range of the camera. The figure was a dark shape only, had a pronounced limp and was moving fast. His back was to the camera so she could see nothing of his face, but she knew the limp...recognized the person. He was due to show again and Lyn was determined to get a look at him this time. She didn't think he would harm her, and really wasn't afraid to be alone in her house at night... Everyone told her to buy a gun but she was uncomfortable owning a weapon. She had thought of a protection dog but did not want to be responsible for another life right now. So she waited to see this man, one she had known for years, lived with, slept with and loved. They had parted several months ago; he had moved out of state. She thought that would be the end of them, but apparently he thought differently. Lyn had run into him several weeks ago at the bank, sitting there with his ex wife, as if they were waiting to open an account. As Lyn entered the bank, she was surprised to see them and jauntily waved, calling out, "Hi, guys." His ex-wife, Sandy, had waved back without looking up. Within a few minutes they were both heading for the door and were gone. It was obvious he did not want to take the chance Lyn would ask him to repay the two thousand dollars he owed her. Soon after that meeting, things began to happen at Lyn's house. First there was the huge rock in the hammock. The hammock had been a treasured place for the two of them in the good times. He was making a statement, telling her it was him by marking the hammock. Next, it was the dry laid stone wall they had built together two weeks before he left. She woke one night to the sound of rocks falling and thought it was the cats knocking some of the stones from the top of the wall. She went back to sleep. When she walked outside the next morning, with her coffee in hand, she found the entire wall destroyed. That was when she was sure it was him. After that he began to put dog feces on the sidewalk, and in the ivy by the back steps. Then came the night when he ventured up the steps onto the porch, and pushed one of her plants from the railing edge onto the flagstone sidewalk. It was then she installed the camera. Lately nothing had been happening. She had only heard and seen him one time after installing the camera. Since that night he had not destroyed anything or been close to the house as far as she could tell. She knew he was watching though; it was as if she could feel his eyes on the house at night. She kept her shades and drapes tightly pulled; the windows covered completely at night. This night she was tired and told herself she would go to sleep early and sleep late on Saturday morning. While showering and drying off, she realized how exhausted she really was so she decided to take a sleep aid to help push her over the edge into a quick, deep sleep. She turned the volume on the TV louder so the camera microphone would wake her in the event of a noise. Lyn slept right away, falling into the abyss of deep, dreamless sleep, never turning over or moving. Exhaustion and the sleeping pill made her sleep hard and heavy. She never heard the small noise on the porch. She didn't wake when the knife cut the edge of the screen of the sliding door. Her brain did not register the familiar sound of the lock clicking to open position on the wooden handle of the door. He slid the door open just enough to squeeze through, and left it open. "Less noise the better," he thought as he moved across the living room carefully. The long blade of the knife flashed in the light of the TV screen. As he approached her bedroom doorway he saw her sleeping soundly, unmoving and breathing regularly. He knew he had all the time he would need to do what he intended. He had planned this for so long...
2/6/2008 5:40:31 PM	Charmie's thread of unread, unloved poetry and shorts...
charmie Glasgow, MT age: 61	Final Considerations---Part Two---- Lyn's eyes shot open. She knew he had entered her home. Every instinct told her he was there. She wanted to play at being asleep, so she held very still as she listened so carefully, so intensely for a noise. She heard what she needed; a bump of a knee into the edge of the coffee table, sending the TV remote tumbling to the floor. She slowly slid her arm under the quilts of her bed and pulled the cell phone from the nightstand back to her. She tried to hold as still as she could, but her fear, so powerful, nearly made her vomit... She could see the entrance to her bedroom door from her position in the bed. So far she was safe. No one was in sight, but she knew she had a tiny window of seconds to call 911. She hit the buttons softly and when the dispatcher answered "911, what is your emergency?" Lyn said nothing. She knew her address would show up on the operator's screen. "911, what is your emergency? Is anyone there?" the dispatcher asked again. Lyn decided to whisper, head under the quilts, "Man inside." The operator immediately understood and told Lyn to hold on, she would dispatch a car to her house. Lying perfectly still, Lyn listened, her mind racing and fear consuming her body. She lay with her eyes half open hoping to see and be braced for the attack she knew was coming. He had the knife ready; holding the handle tightly he moved through the living room slowly towards Lyn's room. She knew he was nearing her bedroom, and she was filled with heart-stopping panic. She could feel his thick presence; taste his remembered smell and she knew fear... She told herself she would fight to her death, knowing he could kill her easily. He stopped at the entrance of her room and looked at her quiet form. "She is still asleep,” he thought. He really wanted her to be awake for her death. He wanted to make her feel fear, to scream and to beg him not to hurt her. He walked to the edge of the bed and studied her sleeping body; she was curled up on her side, the way he remembered she had always slept. "She looks so peaceful. I wish I could walk away." He wanted to remember her like this, not the way he would leave her. He was calmer than he had been in months. Quickly, savagely he plunged the knife into her body; it cut cleanly through the quilt and into Lyn's chest. She moved; twisted and screamed, then began to fight. She tried to make her way off the bed and to the door, but he blocked her passage and was stabbing at her again, making his mark on her arms and back. Lyn knew most of the cuts were surface wounds, except for the thrust into her chest. She could feel warm, sticky blood seeping from the slash and prayed the 911 call would send help soon. He was climbing over the side of the bed now, reaching out for her. She was quick enough to slide off the bottom of the bed, and fall onto the floor. She was weak from loss of blood, but she knew she had to stay conscious if she were to stay alive. As she crawled across the living room floor, he lunged fast, pulling her back. She knew she would not get away. The knife cut deep, pushed into her body and out again and again until her right arm was nearly severed. Her face was a mass of raw muscle. She was bleeding fast now and still his arm swung up and down, tearing the knife through her torso. He stood and looked down upon her. He could hear the blood gurgling from her chest wounds, but still she lived. Lyn tried to speak...he heard her soft whisper, "Now I'm yours." He headed for the door he had opened earlier and walked out onto the porch. He was surprised when police cars pulled up and lights hit him in the face. Dropping the knife, he surrendered to them ...Lyn was gone forever now and nothing mattered. He had succeeded. In the living room the police found Lyn sprawled on the floor, blood all around her body, seeping into the rug. Her lifeless face, once beautiful, was now indescribable. The two cops turned to walk outside into the bright lights and as they did, Lyn jumped up, walking behind them onto the porch. "Well, guys, is that a final take?" she asked.
2/6/2008 5:48:18 PM	Charmie's thread of unread, unloved poetry and shorts...
charmie Glasgow, MT age: 61	The Gift Carlylyn Coe The box arrived the day before her birthday. She naturally thought it was a gift, but there was no return address, just her address again. It would have gotten to her in any case. It was an ordinary box, about eleven by nine inches, only two inches deep. "Couldn't be much," she thought. She had a sudden urge to tear into it …discover its secret. Her birthday was tomorrow so she waited. The box was very light. "No weight to it at all,” she thought. She marveled how it felt so empty. Shaking it gave no hints. Nothing could be felt shifting. She was beginning to think it really was empty…a joke one of her friends was playing on her. She woke the next morning knowing she was thirty years old. She knew this birthday was different; a hallmark in her life. Over breakfast, she remembered the little package. Finding the box, she opened it, and discovered a square of white jewelry cotton covering the hidden prize beneath. Lifting the cotton carefully exposed a small clear plastic bag with a zip lock top. It appeared to be empty as she lifted it from its quarters. She held the bag to the window, examining it carefully, seeking its contents. There, curled up inside was a single strand of long red hair. "What is this?" she questioned aloud. She opened the bag and removed the hair, being careful not to drop it; lose it forever. Laying it on a paper towel, she studied it; she had seen this color of hair before. "Of course!" she said, "I know who you are!" ~~~~~~~ The next day she brought the bagged hair into the bathroom where her husband was shaving. He still shaved with foam and a hand held razor. "I received a gift the day before my birthday. I thought you might like to see it." She watched him with the razor. Gently removing the hair from the bag, holding it by one end, she dangled it in front of his eyes. Pulling back and squinting, he asked, "What is it? I can't see anything." "Look closely,” was her cutting reply. He stepped closer and saw the single red hair his wife was holding. He had run his fingers through the same long red hair just days before. She watched him turn pale. “Don’t bother, don’t bother saying a thing. I know whose hair this is. I knew it would happen after you tired of the office girls. Then my willing sister had her chance. Why would I be surprised by this?” He carefully laid the razor on the counter by the sink as he turned off the running water. He stood still, growing pale as she continued. "I don't have to worry any longer. It’s finally happened and quite frankly, I’m relieved.” She turned her head towards the hall as she heard the front door shut and her mother’s voice call to her from the kitchen below. “Mom, I’m up here.” She walked into the hall to greet her mother who was on her way up the stairs. Walking into the hallway, the two women smiled, hugging each other warmly. Untangling her mother's long beautiful red hair from her watchband, they went downstairs to have coffee together.
2/6/2008 5:52:51 PM	Charmie's thread of unread, unloved poetry and shorts...
taurok Dartmouth, NS age: 50	Hello stranger.....we meet again! I seem to recognize one of the writes! [smiles] lovely writes as always Charmie.
2/6/2008 7:41:23 PM	Charmie's thread of unread, unloved poetry and shorts...
healthologist Page, AZ age: 60	I moved mine over from the old thread too. Unread, Unloved? NOT!
2/7/2008 12:30:43 AM	Charmie's thread of unread, unloved poetry and shorts...
charmie Glasgow, MT age: 61	Taurok & Health-- Thanks and hi back at ya...I decided to move to one thread after seeing Health do it--great idea. I am beating feet out of here at 5 am for NYS where I will buy a house this week. I need to go "back home". Have a great week; Ishall retun in 10 days or so.
2/7/2008 12:37:03 AM	Charmie's thread of unread, unloved poetry and shorts...
charmie Glasgow, MT age: 61	My Titanic carlylyn coe I watched without seeing as you wandered down the path; Purple haze of twilight filtering over, settling in the meadow of my heart. Bittersweet memories play in my mind, like kittens with mice... gently but cruelly till the finish. Stars slowly appear in the cold night, observers of our lost life; twinkling and shining with glee they mock our now used to be. I know tomorrow will be the same; my eyes will cry new tears, ones I never believed could exist. How many are there in just one love time? Crossroads now, a watershed. I must be finished with you, force myself to love another, one who professes love for me. I need one love through the years, the tenderness he will offer as I cry my private tears for you...for lost dreams, sepia faded memories; my Titanic to the world.
2/7/2008 12:51:06 AM	Charmie's thread of unread, unloved poetry and shorts...
charmie Glasgow, MT age: 61	The Hag carlylyncoe She sits on a stool wooden and worn face scarred with anger, pitted with scorn. Once she had beauty, love to spare; now there is none, no need to care. Her secrets are many, mixtures unknown... a poltice for him, a soup made of stone; Heart hardened four score and ten, life nearly finished, she waits for her end. But some still come begging her potions away, bottles, bags, herbs...lotions each day to lessen the sag of the heart in pain; souls awry on the fly. So she sits and waits her inevitable fate life will ebb and eventully end. But now she pours, mixes and blends for approaches a girl her eyes dripping tears. The old hag smiles.

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