poets sit on a lotus flower and get comfortable to watch the world... - 2

.

poetry is a magnifier

revealing lines

you might have never noticed 

the path that you should take

may be lost 

in the humdrum of daily life

you live

but you're not alive

.

ace of night, part 4: the wind and the rain

by horace p sternwall

illustrated by roy dismas

for previous episode, click here

to begin at the beginning, click here

there were no messages for me when i got inside the hotel. not that i was expecting any, but i always check. just like i always look both ways and behind me when i cross the street. you got to gamble, but you can't be too careful. i walked up the three flights of stairs to my room. i don't like elevators. did i ever tell you what happened to me in an elevator in budapest in 1944? but that is another story. i walked down the corridors. one thing about the place, it was quiet. i stood outside the door of the hotel room. how many doors outside how many rooms in how many hotels in how many cities in how many continents had i stood like this - my sixth sense told me everything was all right. i still wished i had a gun. i needed a lot of things - that was high on the list. i put the key in the door and opened it and went in. i switched on the light. nothing. just like i expected. my powers of prediction were still working pretty good. good enough, anyway. i needed some sleep but i knew i wasn't going to get any. i had gotten pretty wet, so i got my suitcase out and changed my clothes. i could hear the wind and rain outside. i couldn't stop thinking about the dame in the cab - what did she call herself? miss lost lamb. i went and looked out the window, it was raining harder than ever. i hoped miss lost lamb hadn't gotten too wet getting out of the cab. she was right across the street. so close, so close. i could say, she might as well be a million miles away. but i know better. fate has a way of stepping in. especially if you know how to handle it. i got a cigarette out of my pack and started to light it with my lighter. then i remembered the matchbook. davenport 7 - 5297. i went over and sat on the bed and picked up the phone. the line was dead. not too surprising, in a dump like this. but now i was curious. and i wasn't going to sleep anyway. i didn't feel like going back out in the rain. i figured i'd go down to the front desk, use the phone down there. yeah, that is what i'd do. davenport 7 -5297 it had a certain ring to it. 5. carla

poets sit on a lotus flower and get comfortable to watch the world... - 1

.

poetry is a frame 

imprisoning a reality

in the mind's eye perception

not all lions are predators

some trot over to you

to say hello

when you open a door

or switch on the light

in the dark

.

a comment made by dear friend and poet, mark, on one of my works inspired the title of this series which is dedicated to a dear anonymous friend who's got a thousand and one heads... and one big heart... 

tales of the hotel st crispian, chapter 98: "important guests"

by horace p sternwall

illustrated by konrad kraus, danny delacroix and eddie el greco

editorial consultant: Prof. Dan Leo


for complete episode, click here

the fourteenth princess, chapter 10: the losers

by emily de villaincourt

illustrated by rhoda penmarq, roy dismas , and konrad kraus

"can i ask a question?" ameline asked miss prue suddenly. she was seated in the center of the table, on dorine's left, with two empty spaces between them. "yes, please do." "have you ever done anything like this before?" "excuse me?" "have you ever -um - conducted - or supervised anything like this whole procedure before ? i mean, maybe during the war?" miss prue laughed. "oh, my dear! what a question!" "i am serious," ameline persisted. "of course you don't have to answer -" "oh, no, it's a good question. an excellent question. it is just that - such an idea never crossed my mind." miss prue laughed again. "i can assure you this is all as strange to me as it must be to all of you. even stranger, as i am older and my brain is not so flexible." "the thought just flashed on me," ameline said. "it just - it just flashed on me." "where would i have done such a thing? i mean - i was on the losing side. as we all were. none of us would be here if we were not, would we?" helga and some of the other guards exchanged amused glances, but none of them spoke. "i suppose," ameline answered. "you suppose?" suddenly celine entered the conversation. "what do you suppose, sweetie? we are all here, aren't we? none of us went down in flames with knives between our teeth, did we?" "well," ameline answered, looking around the table, " some of them might have been a bit young -" " 'them' is right. did you spend the war in a convent?" "no." "nor did i." dorine was more startled by celine's outburst than ameline had been. she did not understand what had caused it. "well," said miss prue, "i hope i answered your question." "yes, " ameline answered mildly. "i did not mean to upset anyone."

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l'amour, part 39

by gabrielle-jeanette perfidy

illustrated by rhoda penmarq

part thirty-nine of seventy-eight

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part 40

tales of the hotel st crispian, chapter 97: "done wrong"

by horace p sternwall and manfred skyline

illustrated by konrad kraus, roy dismas and eddie el greco

editorial consultant: Prof. Dan Leo


for complete episode, click here