The Center of the Circle (Parts 2and3)

The Center of the Circle (Part 2)

dream that was equally strange,

horse hunters on the range,

Who would
chase wild horses,

Along several
well devised courses,

Groups of
men hidden along the way,

Would Jump up and turn the horses away,

Rerouting them
back into the herd,

When directions
changed, confusion occurred,

The leaders
frantic as the circle tightened,

The mares
and colts terribly frightened,

The horses
driven into a box canyon,

Where there
was no place to run,

Some brave stallions
turned to fight,

But rifles
fired, killing them outright,

The mares
more docile, were left to live,

They could
be valuable, their lives to give,

They would
be mated with donkeys for sturdy offspring,

Their colts,
as mules, much money they’d bring,

And any
other young horses that hung around,

Would be
auctioned off at the nearest town,

There must
be meaning that I could derive,

Why did
these dreams return and thrive?

The dreams
were becoming progressively vivid,

I was angry
at myself, absolutely livid,

But the meanings
to the dreams was still concealed,

There was
more to come before they were revealed,

Foxes were
the focus of my next dream,

But the
center of the circle was still the theme,

Foxes were
the target of a killing spree,

These poor
creatures became the enemy,

A circle of
men, women, and children five miles wide,

Decided to
give the foxes no place to hide,

With sticks
and clubs they entered the woods,

Yelling and
baying, as loud as they could,

Tired and
frightened, the foxes ran to and fro,

As they
quickly found there was no place to go,

The angry
ones would snarl and try to fight,

The sticks
and clubs would be their last sight,

Those that
gave up in utter despair,

Were also
clubbed right then and there,

The circle
tightened as the men closed in,

There was no
hope for the foxes within,

closer, with enemies all around,

remaining foxes simply lay down,

The center
of the circle became their end,

with clubs by children and men,

(To be

The Center of the Circle (Part 3)

What did all
this have to do with me?

Was there
some kind of vision I needed to see?

There was
one more dream, a warning I guess,

For this
dream caused me much stress,

repeated in dreams before,

Gave me a
look at what was in store,

Unrecognizable shapes, I couldn’t see their

But they
were waiting in predetermined spaces,

My dream
wasn’t clear about who or when,

But I could
feel the trap closing in,

I had
learned lessons from watching the past,

If I had a
chance, I had to act fast,

Running to
freedom might not be the cure,

But in the
center death would be sure,

In a state
of panic what a scene it could be,

each other rather than the enemy,

From my
dreams I knew I could not appease,

The circle
would tighten, all life would cease,

If I acted
now I had one slim chance,

To escape
and stir others from their trance,

That’s when
I woke from this nightmare,

considered what was and wasn’t there,

The center
of the circle is with us now,

They’re relentlessly pushing us inward somehow,

Climate changes, terrible storms, nowhere to turn,

Inward we go, the truth to discern,

They’ve watched our patterns and learned so well,

They’re waiting for the right moment, only time will tell.



The Center of the Circle

Resident (fish-eating) killer whales. The curv...
Image via Wikipedia

The stories
in nature are never complete,

There are always lessons that will repeat,

From the
past, the present, and eons beyond,

develop from plans once spawned,


From visions,
I’ve seen truths and facts,

man and beast in gruesome acts,

Animals in
nature out of necessity must kill,

While mankind
often does it for the thrill,


Yet in my
dreams the circle’s center,

Becomes the
place where I enter,

And the
visions I see are all askew,

deadly, but nothing new,


In my deep dark dreams I could see,

whales and their strategy,

Orcas, the
wolves of the sea,

their prey to its destiny,


Penguins or
seals, whatever the prey,

Onward pushed,
none allowed to stray,

Eager to
escape, but they stayed tight knit,

To the group
they had chosen to commit,


But the pod
of orcas tightened the noose,

their prey inward, not one turned loose,

The orcas
continuing their relentless chase,

Until the
matriarch gave the signal to end the race,


There was no
waiting, no time to pause,

Into the
center slashed hungry jaws,

A feeding
frenzy with victory won,

rewarded, the pod moved on,

(To be

One Storm Was Different

Image by Jonathan Gill via Flickr

Time after
time I observed beautiful storms,

Wanting to
see differences, wanting to see norms,

Usually they
appeared suddenly, lighting up the sky,

And I would
watch with wonder as they passed me by,

But one
storm looked different, just a little odd,

Its profile
dark and menacing, its shoulders wide and broad,

The storm
moved quickly in from the west,

Its eyes
flashed angrily and it spoke loudly with zest,

I could see
its determined look the closer it came,

Then a
funnel descended, and it called out my name,

I hid in my
basement, away from the destructive wind,

It was out
to destroy me, I knew it was no friend,

My home was
gone, the storm took all I had,

But I had
evaded death this time; the storm was really mad,

Time after
time I weathered marital fights,

Wanting to
know who was wrong and who was right,

these arguments would flare up fast,

But I didn’t
want to listen until my anger was past,

One fight
seemed different, just a little odd,

Her words were
mean and icy, but my shoulders were broad,

The quarrel
continued, I felt tightness in my chest,

Her eyes
flashed and her words continued with zest,

I could see
the fury in her face, the closer she came,

My pride was
punctured as she called me some awful names,

I hid in
silence, away from her angry glare,

She was out
to destroy me, no longer did she care,

Along with
my heart she took away my pride,

But I still
had lots of love bottled deep inside,

When she
left I had to face life once again,

With little
to lose this time, but much more to gain,

I’ll continue
enjoying storms as they roll into view,

But this
time I’ll be aware of the destruction one storm can do.

The Man in the Saddle

John Wayne in Tall in the Saddle Trailer
Image via Wikipedia

Tom studied
the picture closely.  The Duke always
rode tall in the saddle.  The Duke was a
proud man, tough and rough, eager to fight foes and friends, especially the
ones who mistreated a lady.  But then,
The Duke’s method was to be firm, show a lady who’s in control, and expect her
to like his methods.  Tom remembered one
of those manly westerns when John Wayne gave his lady a few whacks on the
bottom, tossed her over his shoulder, and marched off to the applause of the

Tom wondered
if he could actually do that.  His wife,
Amy, seemed out of control.  If he didn’t
meet her demands and whims right away she pounced on him like a cat on a
mouse.  She would get in his face and
call him every vile thing she could think of.
Tom didn’t like confrontations, especially those in front of his friends
or her friends.  There weren’t any that
he could call their friends.  When Amy
lit into him he always acquiesced and tried to please her.  Her friends scoffed at his consternation and
his apparent weakness.  His male friends
were embarrassed and refused to talk to him for days.

Tonight he
just couldn’t face Amy and her friends. He asked the bartender for another
double.  He needed to be numb or get
enough courage to see her without flinching.
If only I could be like The Duke, brave and proud,  standing up for myself or others.”  He heard himself saying, “Bartender, one more
double.”  That didn’t sound like
him.  He hadn’t asked.  He just said it like it was supposed to be.

He barely had time to reflect on his new
strength when he overheard a couple arguing.
He glanced to his right.  “What
are you looking at?” a man snarled. “This is our business, not yours.”  He slapped the woman hard.  “You’ll do what you’re told!”

Maybe he’d
had too much to drink or maybe he was tired of being pushed around himself.  “Don’t hit her,” he said in a low voice.  “You shouldn’t hit a lady.”

The man chuckled.  “Did you hear what he called you, Janee?  He called you a lady.  Isn’t that funny?” he slapped her again,
knocking her to her knees.  He turned to
Tom and said, “Didn’t I tell you to mind your own business?”  He was muscular, at least six inches taller
than Tom and forty pounds heavier.

“Now is the
time to back away and go home,” Tom thought.
But what would he be going home to?
Just Amy and her insults.
Tonight, his level of concern was numbed by the drinks.  “What would the Duke do?” he asked
himself.  “Would the Duke turn his back
and let a woman be mistreated?”  He
already knew the answer.  “Never hit a
lady,” Tom repeated.

The man
stepped towards Tom, grinning at the thought of plastering this stranger.  Another step, and that’s when Tom exploded.  The man was not prepared for Tom’s catlike quickness.  Tom’s foot hit the man’s chin, and his fist
hit him again when he tried to get up.
The man looked puzzled, unsure what was happening.  He lunged at Tom and was sidestepped and
shoved into a wall.  He sank silently to
the floor, unconscious for the moment.

Tom looked
at the woman and offered his hand.  “You
can stay here if you want, or you can go with me,” he said quietly.  “I’ll take you home or someplace else.”

She smiled a weak smile.  “I’ll go with you.  I’m tired of being beaten up.” She was
staring at him intently.  “You’re the
first brave man I’ve seen that would stand up to him.  And you’re so quick and strong. You remind me
of someone I saw in the movies but I can’t remember his name.”

would you mind if I took you someplace where we could eat and talk?  I haven’t had a chance to talk with a real
woman in a long time.”

Janee was pretty, a brunette with plain
features, but when she smiled her whole face radiated and she became beautiful.
She belonged in a library or in a school, not being beaten in a bar.  “I’d love to,” she said, smiling as if he was
the only man in the world.

They talked for hours while they nibbled on
hamburgers and drank cokes.  Janee was
intelligent, well read, and a poet and she was delighted that Tom wrote poetry,
too. Tom and Janee discovered they had much in common and they were soon fast

Janee explained that she had come to town with
friends and they had gotten separated in a crowd.  She had run out of money and the man had paid
her tab. But then he led her around like he owned her. Janee had already
overheard him making plans for her future.
She had no way to escape.  She was
terrified and she didn’t know what to do. Tom happened to be there just at the
right moment to rescue her.  She looked
at him coyly.  “Are you alone?” she

Tom knew
what she meant but he said, “Yes, I am. I’ve never been more alone than tonight
.  When I met you that all changed. I don’t
feel alone anymore.”

He did not want to go home.  He would confront Amy another day.  Right now he wanted to enjoy this moment,
this feeling of content, the feelings that Janee stirred within him.

He drove to a motel.  Without questioning she followed, willing to
be with him, willing to be with a man who showed bravery and kindness. In her
heart a fire was beginning to burn.  She
already loved him and he would learn to love her.  Already she felt heat rising within her.

“What was the man’s name that played in the
movies?” she thought.  “He treated his
woman with kindness but clearly was in charge. That’s just like Tom.  I know what Tom needs.  He needs to prove his manliness and I’m ready
for him.”

Tom kissed Janee slowly and tenderly at
first.  As his kisses became more
demanding he felt Janee shifting and moving against him, hardening him into
steel.  “What would the Duke do?” he
asked himself.

But the Duke
no longer mattered. He only had thoughts of Renee and what she was doing.  He was Tom, brave and proud, who had stood up
for Janee and won.  Now he was in
control, slowly letting her heat rise like a volcano, waiting for the
fireworks.  He was a changed man, sure of
himself, and she was his woman, ready to support him in whatever ways she
could.  Tonight they would discover how
each fulfilled the needs of the other. Two hearts beating in unison. Two smiles
joined forever. Tomorrow they would start their new life together.

Accidentally on Purpose (Part 4)

Pupils writing on the blackboard in a village ...
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Accidentally on Purpose
(Part 4) (conclusion)

Choice #11

Never having

Life was
really tough,

But at twelve I was ready to see,

What the
world had in store for me,

With the art
of sales I came to grips,

Because newspaper
subscriptions won trips,

commissions rewarded my work,

I didn’t
need much for my perks,

Then on to
bigger, better things,

Selling of
tractors, diamond rings,

I sold items
the customer didn’t really need,

I was caught
in a whirlwind of my own greed,

The three I’s,
Income, Independence, Impact,

something happen, a salesman’s facts,

I sold dreams
well because I was bold,

But I felt
in danger of losing my soul,

So I sold
out, didn’t hesitate,

(Of course
later I sold real estate),

Choice #12

Sculpted and
manicured, bushes and lawns,

As a teen I used my brains and my brawn,

Met with
clients and nursery personnel,

They could
trust me, things were going well,

Lined up my
customers for weekend spots,

A very rigid
schedule, right on the dot,

My business
was complicated and vying with sports,

I was
earning a reputation as a businessman of sorts,

There were
several men working for me,

Until off to
college I went, the world to see,

I’ve often wondered
what might have been,

But I’d make
the same choices all over again,

I left
preparing the grounds for preparing my mind,

But I enjoyed
working outdoors, I couldn’t leave it behind,

Choice #13

A sting
operation was in store for me,

Little did I
know I would be handling bees,

When I helped
a beekeeper they got under my skin,

What a
precarious occupation I soon found myself in,

It was
outdoor work which I enjoyed,

surrounded me and I was self-employed,

More than a
hobby, beekeeping was still part-time,

But I made
more income than teaching full-time.

I rented out
bees for pollination every spring,

Then queens
and package bees became my thing,

Honey was
the least profitable part on my list,

My three
phase business was angel kissed,

The bee
business survived flood and drought,

It was
humming along until divorce snuffed it out,

But then I
had time with my children to play,

I could
leave queens and things for another day,

Choice #14

There were
careers I said no because I had doubts,

I could have
made money, so what was that about?

My career
selection became a matter of the heart,

Becoming a
teacher was the best place to start,

students to live life abundantly became my fate,

I didn’t
need fame but I wanted my students to be great,

I won’t know
if they were successful in living their lives,

They’d be
too occupied adjusting their inner drives,

Someday when
our lives merge on some busy street,

What will
they tell me when we chance to meet?

I hope they smile
and point at me with pride,

And say, “Your
class was great, I enjoyed the ride,”

From lower
grades to middle, on through high school,

They knew if
they tried, failure was against my rule,

And those
who pushed for the higher grades,

Could pick
and choose college or trades,

For careers
were not mine alone to choose,

In this game
students could win or lose,

After many
long years I gave up the daily grind,

I didn’t
want to be searching for my long lost mind,

Career Choice

Writing is
something I would do in shade or sun,

It was
therapeutic, calming, my idea of fun,

I was
painting a picture, only with words,

My stories
would wander about like tipsy birds,

I wrote news
articles, short stories, even two books,

Not much
would sell, editors wouldn’t look,

But words
kept oozing out my pores,

And I kept writing
poems by the scores,

Life was
crazy as I was dragged through life’s dirt,

I tried to
keep busy and laugh when I hurt,

parent and lonely, occupations galore,

I decided to
write about life and forget keeping score,

I have a website
shopping mall along with my posts,

I get to
write poems to draw visitors and I am the host,

books?  I hope someday to publish a few,

My writing
is my life that changed as it grew,

Poetry and
stories are waiting to be told,

I’ve got to
release them, I’ve got to be bold,

It’s my
final frontier that I’ll have to face,

There are so
many stories to write I’ll have to race,

For a writer
with stories that he just has to tell,

Will drive
him insane, as you know quite well.

Accidentally on Purpose (Part 3)

Firefighters trying to save an abandoned conve...
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Choice #7

I had a
burning desire to be,

A fireman with little concern for fame,

But I would have chances to control,

The roaring
fires and dancing flames,

excitement of saving property and lives,

sirens down the street,

I didn’t think
I’d need anything more,

To make my
life complete,

The daily
routines of clean and polish,

Continued practice
of life saving skills,

Nerves on
edge waiting for calls,

Cool and
calm between the drills,

A gruff
lieutenant got on my case,

He wanted my
learning faster to be,

But I had a
sensitive side,

And I didn’t
like him barking at me,

I flamed out
and lost my cool,

I wasn’t
going to be anybody’s fool,

A jack of
all trades, a master of none,

I hadn’t
settled down, I was still having fun,

Choice #8

I was still
thinking music,

And learning
piano and guitar,

I had messages
of love to give,

I hadn’t
thought about being a star,

Yet the
stage was pulling me,

I could be
an actor strutting about,

But my
acting was soon questioned,

And my
stuttering left no doubt,

As an actor
I didn’t get far,

I was just
another example,

Of a brief
shooting star,

Choice #9

I was a
guest on a radio show,

For newspapers
I was a hit,

Perhaps I
could be a newsman,

My career—I had
finally found it,

I covered
fires and crimes,

stories were very easy,

But one
thing bothered me a lot,

made me queasy,

In smoke
filled rooms an hour to write,

I rushed to
get my stories in,

But wait!
When a new story was breaking,

My stories
were shoved aside again!

When my
articles were completely done,

I would
proudly hand them in,

An editor
would slice them up,

No point
arguing, I knew I’d never win,

When I had a
better understanding,

Of what I needed
to do,

My articles
were allowed to run,

And I had a
byline too,

But like all
good things,

This finally
came to an end,

The local
newspaper folded,

And I lost
my editor friend,

This career
path I enjoyed,

But now I
was unemployed,

Choice #10

hands and kissing babies,

I never knew
what would ensue,

I wanted to
tell voters what they wanted to hear,

Instead of
saying what was true,

When I
thought I wanted to be a politician,

I forgot my
problem with lies,

I just
couldn’t keep a straight face,

The truth
was there in my eyes,

PAC’s, voter
blocs, all wanted an exclusive promise,

That I’d
vote for their particular sin,

They wanted
a promise that I’d love them forever,

campaign funds would start trickling in,

People everywhere
think there’s no use,

When politicians
don’t even seem to try,

But if
politicians tell the truth they’ll have no excuse,

It’s much easier
to defend a lie,

I missed my
chance for office and fame,

I was told I
should play the game,

But I’d
rather be poor and unknown,

And still be
proud of my name,

(To be

Accidentally on Purpose (Part 2)

Image via Wikipedia

Career Choice #4

I wanted a career that let me work alone,

Just let me do my task,

An occupation that was really appreciated,

Was that too much to ask?

With a few classes I could be an electrician,

With a few years of training I’d be set,

It was shocking what I discovered,

So I wasn’t ready to commit yet,

I’d learn to be a responsible apprentice,

For maybe four years or more,

The idea was simply electrifying,

It thrilled me to the core,

I could be a great conductor,

Giving electricity a special path,

But I’d have to be extra careful,

Not to feel its burning wrath,

Then I found crawl spaces too small,

For my claustrophobic bent,

And spiders and snakes were not on my list,

Of things that were heaven sent,

So farewell to blueprints and colored wires,

And all things electricians do,

So circuit breakers and transformers,

I decided we were through,

Career Choice #5

I could handle deposits and lend out bucks,

So banking was a job I thought I could do,

What were my qualifications?

I looked good in suits and loved money too,

Interest on loans is a principal source of revenue,

So can’t you see me sitting behind a door,

Trying to find ways to raise the interest rates,

Counting currency and saying, “More, I want more,”

There has to be continual communication,

Between customers and banking employees,

So financial needs are met with services,

As long as the bank gets its fees,

Secrets kept me from being a banker,

For there were records about payments due,

I had access to confidential information,

And I refused to divulge what I knew,

Career Choice #6

I thought about becoming a heart surgeon,

Oh, how important I would be,

If I could replace a worn out heart,

Wouldn’t everybody just envy me?

Well trained, dedicated, and extremely skilled,

Some of the requirements for medical careers,

The pay is good and I have a few weeks to spend,

Wait! You say after college there’s six more years?

I would work long hours if the nurses were cute,

But clinical rotations and residencies I’d be on,

By the time I was ready to start my practice,

Half of my life would be gone,

I guess I just didn’t have the heart,

To even start,

So kiss thoracic surgery goodbye,

I won’t even try,

(To be continued)

I Became a Writer Accidentally on Purpose

Anglican choir music - a guest choir practices...
Image via Wikipedia

When I was ready to make choices concerning my
career path I was surprised to find that some choices were chosen for me, based
not on what I could do, but for what I couldn’t do.

When it was
time to make a career choice,

I had to
decide who I wanted to be,

For each
occupation has its own voice,

And I wanted
the spotlight shining on me,

Choice #1

I loved
languages and I took great pride,

German, and Latin were on my list,

If I said I
was diligent in my studies, then I lied,

But I
enjoyed language structures, and I insist,

That some of
the sounds tangled my tongue,

Until the
day I ventured into the language lab,

When I heard
the teacher describing to everyone,

(My recorded
voice was booming and I felt his stab),

He remarked,
“He’s terrible with his pronunciations,”

I had other career
choices, this one wouldn’t be missed,

So cross off
language translator from my list,

Choice #2

I often woke
up excited about the new day,

Songs would
be bursting from my lips,

Carpe diem!
It didn’t matter work or play,

The whole
world was at my fingertips,

singing would be a great career too,

But that thought
was soon nipped in the bud,

When my
career in singing all fell through,

and disgraced, my name was mud,

In mid-song the
choir director brought us to a halt,

She loudly announced,
“Someone’s off key,”

“We can’t
sing this cantata because of someone’s fault,

I wasn’t
worried because I knew it wasn’t me,

Then she
said, “That voice is on this side,”

She put us
in groups to narrow it down,

Finally she
was next to me, and I couldn’t hide,

She said, “I’ve
finally located that awful sound,”

I could
still sing for part of my everyday fun,

But I knew
my singing career was totally done,

Career Choice

Like many
high school boys I was ready to perform,

I wanted riches
and fame, my name up in lights,

I did very
well in sports, I was ahead of the norm,

I knew what
was expected, I’d even wear tights,

My teams
weren’t exceptional, although we did well,

championship or two, the stats weren’t great,

If I would
go to the next level, only time would tell,

But I found
out the results of my professional fate,

“Son, there
are a few factors holding you back,

“You need to
be bigger, stronger, faster, just for a start,

And if you
had a lot more talent the money we’d stack,”

So, no pro
sports for me, just break my heart,

number three was out of my league,

I was tired
of losing but I wasn’t fatigued,

Choices (To be continued)

“Skipping Pebbles Through Life”

discover your destiny

Skipping Pebbles

One day as I
traveled through the woods,

I saw an
ancient man sitting by a pond,

I wanted
directions to leave the woods behind,

But he challenged
me to think beyond,

“It’s easy
to get lost in the woods,” he said,

“Where do
you want to be?”

“I’m off to
make my mark on the world,

And discover
my destiny,”

His eyes
glowed with a strange fire,

As he smiled
and replied with a deep sigh,

young, with so much to learn,

But I know
you need to try,”

With a grand
gesture he pointed to the pond,

“I’ll show
you what a pebble can teach,

About your
impact on the world,

And all
those goals you think you’ll reach,”

“First, don’t
think you’re so important,

You’re like
a pebble dropped in a pond,

See the
rings this pebble made?

Just listen
quietly before you respond,”

influence spreads outward,

Making several
concentric rings,

Your impact
lasts just a short while,

Before the angels sing,”

“What if I
am flat and make several skips?

I’ll cover
more area on my way,

There are
several places where I’ll touch,

Leaving several
circles on display,”

“But what
difference will you really make?

Look, as I skip
this stone across the pond,

See the
rings that are left behind?

Now they are
going, going, gone,”

“Just like
life’s fleeting ambitious dreams,

They’re here
for the moment but gone in a flash,

Goals that
you accomplish only for yourself,

forgotten after the splash,”

“But a
pebble you throw for someone else,

Becomes more
than a rock you fling,

It allows
them to rise above the pond,

And helps them
find their wings,”

“So as you
go to discover your destiny,

Remember the
pebbles tossed across the pond,

And the
ripples they leave behind,

If you want
to leave a mark you have to reach beyond,”

“And help
others become more than they are,

Allow them
to dream of love and things,

To escape
that which holds them down,

And fly with
new-found wings,”

He waved
goodbye as I started forth,

A purpose showing
in each step,

I promised
to help others fly above,

And it’s a
promise I have kept,

Now when I
look across a pond,

And see the
surface smooth as glass,

I feel
within me there is a skipping stone,

But calmly I
let the moment pass,

There are
opportunities to make my splash,

And I could
make my world, all about me,

But I’ve
chosen to lift others up,

That is my
chosen destiny.

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