We sat on our hill and she taught me a song

 

We sat on our hill and she taught me a song.

I remember her laugh when I got the words wrong,

I remember the way the grass tickled our feet,

And the flowers I tucked in her hair looked so sweet,

But I ruefully deem the dream as incomplete.

Though deep I have delved and long I have sought,

I cannot recall what she patiently taught.

 

 

 

 


The Darkest Season

 

I did something creative! My little wrung-out sponge of a brain managed to ooze a flash piece and three illustrations for my friend Chad Woody’s book, a collection of small horror stories, called The Darkest Season. Expect humor, horror, and Christmas rolled into one festive, grotesque, ungainly animal. It’s great fun.

https://www.lulu.com/en/us/shop/anne-almirall-and-cody-walker-and-eric-schaller-and-sarah-silvey/the-darkest-season/paperback/product-zzrk8m.html?page=1&pageSize=4

Merry Christmas!

 

 

 

 

Aoudads


Aoudads are enormous, proud, and graceful animals.
The largest have sweeping beards from chest to hoof,
thick horns curling behind them,
and a critical goaty gaze
which sees you from its perch
high in the desert rocks
and seems to say, “what low thing
squints up at my grandeur?”

Their strength prevails in a climate
where lesser breeds wither.
Every image on the net
is one of these proud ruminant gods,
dwarfing a human at their side,
head upright,
held aloft by the horns
by a smiling hunter.

Something there is about a god
which drives mankind to kill it.
We suffer nothing to live above us.











Tempered


fomented, divided, abandoned, regained
humbled
we are still children yet

what will tomorrow’s trials teach us?
who will fall?
who will flourish?
what pain will bear
what art?

life does not get easier.
we will have days even worse than this,
enough to tear our souls apart.
unquenchable anger.
unfathomable loss.
we will bend, burn, bellow
and
survive.

if we can listen we can learn

emerging
from each successive conflagration
never victorious
but wiser, truer
more grateful
aligned in the sudden extremes.











Free Space

 

amazing
in this tiny place
enormous emotions

the stimulation is small
home is all we are
where nothing can touch us
safe

still we twitch
wage battles
wound one another
cry hysterically

when the chaos butterfly
flaps its wings indoors
the storm concentrates,
inescapable.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

« Older Entries