Written for Ovi Poetry Challenge #70
Our inspiration word is “empty”
and this is my ovi,
Tag: Love
#9 Dream
Sometimes you see an image
and you know it’s perfect for your story.
This is Kevin’s pic from No Theme Thursday: 10.17.24
and here is my story.
Intoxicating Me
It’s Sunday and that means it’s time for Song Lyric Sunday!
This week Jim Adams has asked his readers in his post “Spirits”
to write about a song that mentions drinks or cocktails.
Theme suggested by Di at pensitivity101.wordpress.com. Here is my reply.
Pull up a stool and start running a tab, because we’re diving into a very popular topic in the music world: booze.
Drinking is practically a worldwide pastime. After all, Benjamin Franklin is credited with saying, “Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy.” Frank Sinatra once said, “Alcohol may be man’s worst enemy, but the Bible says to love your enemy.” And then, there’s the greatest quote about alcohol by the legendary comic actor W.C. Fields: “I spent half my money on gambling, alcohol and wild women. The other half I wasted”!
Whether it’s beer or wine or the hard stuff, there are countless songs about drinking. Some of these songs are upbeat, while others are dark. Some are joyous while others are sorrowful. Regardless, many have resonated with fans spanning multiple generations.
I’m not much of a drinker; while I do occasionally enjoy a glass of wine 🍷, a very dirty martini with extra olives🍸 , a spicy Bloody Mary 🍹 or an ice cold Stella Artois 🍺 on a hot summer day, more than one of any of those libations would wipe me out.
I took some time to explore songs about drinking through a variety of different lenses, from love ballads to cautionary tunes of heartache and everything in between. At the end of it all, when it comes to drinking, most people just want to unwind, have a good time and forget about whatever troubles they’re dealing with.
Not so my featured song today … a classic jazz number from 1938 called “You Go To My Head” which artfully compares the effects of love and drink. There are quite a few versions of the song and I’ve heard most of them; none, in my opinion, come close to Billie Holiday.
Born April 7, 1915 in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, Billie Holiday was a superstar of her day. She first rose to prominence in the 1930’s with a unique style that reinvented the conventions of modern singing and performance. More than 80 years after making her first recording, Billie’s legacy continues to embody what is elegant and cool in contemporary music. Billie’s complicated life and genre-defining autobiography “Lady Sings the Blues” made her a cultural icon. The evocative, soulful voice which she boldly put forth as a force for good, turned any song she sang into her own. Today, Billie Holiday is remembered for her musical masterpieces, her songwriting skills, creativity and courageous views on inequality and justice. To read more about the extraordinary life of Billie Holiday, please follow this link.
Three different recordings of “You Go to My Head” by J. Fred Coots and Haven Gillespie made the Top 20 list in 1938: Billie Holiday’s version was one of them. Written after a long night at a local speakeasy, the song’s melody can be played as bright and effervescent or as introspective and melancholy. The song has been featured in the movies Laura (1944) and The Big Sleep (1946).
I’ve been in love with “You Go To My Head” since the first time I heard it as a young teenager. It’s a sophisticated jazz piece about love and booze … a very unusual choice for a 13 or 14 year old girl who didn’t know anything about either subject. Somehow I knew this song was much more than a ditty about drinks and love. It’s also the first song with an adult theme which I memorized and practiced singing. I’m sure no matter how many times I performed this song later in life, I never sounded as cool and classy as Billie Holiday.
This is “You Go To My Head” by Billie Holiday
LYRICS
You go to my head
And you linger like a haunting refrain
And I find you spinning round in my brain
Like the bubbles in a glass of champagne
You go to my head
Like a sip of sparkling burgundy brew
And I find the very mention of you
Like the kicker in a julep or two
The thrill of the thought
That you might give a thought to my plea
Casts a spell over me
Still I say to myself, “Get a hold of yourself”
Can’t you see that it never can be?
You go to my head
With a smile that makes my temperature rise
Like a summer with a thousand Julys
You intoxicate my soul with your eyes
Though I’m certain that this heart of mine
Hasn’t a ghost of a chance in this crazy romance
You go to my head
You go to my head
Source: Musixmatch
Songwriters: J. Fred Coots/Haven Gillespie
You Go to My Head lyrics © Wb Music Corp., Toy Town Tunes Inc, Toy Town Tunes, Inc., John F. Coots Jr. Trust Music
Producer(s): John Hammond, Bernie Hanighen
Vocal: Billie Holiday
Composer, Lyricist: J.F. Coots/H. Gillespie
Guitar: Danny Barker
Drums: Cozy Cole
Re-Mastering Engineer(s): Seth Foster, Mark Wilder
Piano: Billy Kyle
Saxophone: Babe Russin
Clarinet: Buster Bailley
Trumpet: Charlie Shavers
Big thanks to Jim Adams for hosting another great Song Lyric Sunday this week and to Di for a terrific theme suggestion! Be sure to follow the links and check out their sites.
Thanks for stopping by. See you on the flip side. 😎
NAR©2024
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and is not for use by anyone without permission. NAR©2017-present.
Love Makes The World Go ‘Round
Written for Ovi Poetry Challenge #69;
our inspiration word is “spice”. Here is my ovi.
It’s said love makes the world go ‘round
A loving couple altar bound
Their forever love have they found
What a very happy day!
What is the special joy of life
A happy man, a happy wife
A recipe with lots of spice
Who could ask for more?
Keep fighting to a minimum
Lovemaking to a maximum
Your lives will never be humdrum
And you’ll smile all the while!
NAR©2024
This is “Love Makes The World Go ‘Round” by Deon Jackson
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.
Chills and Fever
Written for Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt #385.
The challenge is to write a poem or a piece of prose
in exactly 85 words using the word “vertigo”. Here’s mine.
What is this sudden disequilibrium?
I feel like I could fall flat on my bum!
Tummy’s flipping and I’m gonna be sick
Somebody get me some Pepto quick!
Ears are ringing, I’ve got a headache
Doctor, please! I need a break!
First a fever and now the chills
Pass me some of those magic pills!
My heart is racing like an SST
Give it to me straight, Doc. What’s wrong with me?
What’s that you say? It’s love vertigo?
There’s no cure? Well, whaddya know!
NAR©2024
85 Words
From 1964, this is “Chills and Fever” featuring a 24 year old Tom Jones and his group, The Senators.
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.
Love Lost
Written for Sadje’s What Do You See # 257,
this is my free verse response.
In the 58 years since my birth, we were never close … just one of those sadly unfulfilled relationships between mother and daughter.
If she ever loved me, she didn’t show it. And, God forgive me, I did not love her.
Yet here I was visiting her at the nursing home.
Why? Was I driven by misplaced guilt?
Was I still seeking her approval?
Invisible. That’s the only word that came to mind when my mother turned to look at me.
Her eyes were blank, her expression impassive.
And when she reached for my hand, I couldn’t stop my tears.
NAR©2024
#WDYS
This is “Mother” by John Lennon
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.
Desert Sky
Written for The New, Unofficial, On-Line Writer’s Guild.
This week the three prompts for OLWG #368 – We Both Know
are (1) an old Patti Smith song, (2) need more blue in the shadows
and (3) when I left El Paso. Here is my first story for OLWG.
Jenna pulled off the long empty stretch of highway and killed the engine. The view of the desert skyline was too stunning for words. She stepped out of the car and leaned against the door, the hot sun beating down on her face and shoulders. The late afternoon sky was intense, deeply saturated with shades of cerulean, and Jenna smiled. As a fledgling artist, she always found fault with her own artwork, declaring the colors “lackluster”; she was more at home with a camera than a paint brush. Nature’s palette didn’t need more blue in the shadows cast by the sun or more green in the desert grass. It was perfection.
Easing her way back into the driver’s seat, Jenna caught a glimpse of herself in the rearview. The delicate gold chain with the heart from Miguel was dazzling in the desert sun. Jenna lifted the heart to lips and closed her eyes.
Reaching for her cell phone, Jenna snapped a photo of the desert and sent it to Miguel; then she called him. After three rings, her call went to voice mail. Jenna didn’t care; the time was right. She left a message:
“Hey, babe! Can you guess where I am from the photo I sent? In an hour I’ll be home. Home. Just saying the word fills my heart with joy. When I left El Paso, I had no idea the photo shoot would keep me away so long. I miss you so much, mi amor. I can’t wait to be in your arms once again! I love you, papi.”
Jenna pushed the engine button and started heading home. About ten minutes into her drive, she hear the familiar strains of an old Patti Smith song coming from her phone … Miguel’s personal ringtone. She pulled over to read the message:
“Jenna, mi amor! I’ve waited this long. What’s another hour? Te amo!”
Smiling at the sight of the desert sky in her rearview, Jenna hurried home … home to Miguel.
NAR©2024
This is “Dancing Barefoot” by Patti Smith
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.
1968: A Dectina Refrain
Written for dVerse Poetics: Fall (in) Love,
this is my Dectina Refrain.
I
met him
in the fall,
tanned from summer.
He was a bronzed god,
hair as gold as the sun,
eyes like burnished copper glowed.
He warmed the chill from out my bones,
thawed the late Autumn frost in my heart.
I met him in the fall tanned from summer.
NAR©2024
Happy Birthday to my husband Bill. We met in the fall of 1968. 🤎
This is “Bill” from Showboat performed by the Rebecca Trehearn
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.
Tears Come Easy
Written for Weekend Writing Prompt #380 and
Weekly Prompts Colour Challenge where the required words
are ‘auction’ and ‘lilac’. In exactly 78 words, here is my story.
My husband came home from grocery shopping and after putting away the ice cream said to me, “I stopped by the Chatsworth Auction House. Look what I found.”
He handed me a small box; inside were vintage lilac gemstone and silver filigree earrings.
I started to cry … tears come easy … and he asked “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. They’re perfect” I sobbed. “Just like the ones I lost years ago.”
“I remember” he whispered and kissed my head.
NAR©2024
78 Words
This is “I Remember You” by Frank Ifield
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.
Sign Language
Written for Friday Fictioneers where Rochelle asks us to
get creative in 100 words or less. Making every word count
and using Dale’s photo below as inspiration, here is my flash.
Since we was kids it was just me and Roxie. Nobody wanted us but we didn’t care. We was crazy in love, wild about each other. We didn’t need nobody stickin’ their noses in our beeswax.
Long as we was together, nothin’ else much mattered, y’know?
We got a gig flippin’ flapjacks, a tin roof over our heads, a bed, and a hi-fi for spinnin’ tunes.
We do our jobs each day, make mad love every night, and dance in the glittery moonlight.
We’re happy and there’s no hidin’ the signs. The whole shack shimmies.
That’s more than most folks got.
NAR©2024
100 Words
This is “Love Shack” by The B-52’s
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.
In A Groove
Written for dVerse Poets Quadrille #207 Spin Cycle
Hold my hand, honey
and take me for a spin
Twirl me ‘round the dance floor
I’m loving the spin I’m in
Whisper those sweet nothings, baby
send shivers up my spine
and make my head spin, lover
tonight I’m gonna make you mine
NAR©2024
44 Words
This is “That Old Black Magic” by Louis Prima and Keely Smith, the Heppest of the Hep!
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.
Calm and Choppy Waters
Written for Stream of Consciousness Saturday
where the theme is ‘ship’. This is my stream.
Sometimes in life you make a connection with another person and you know right away it’s special. That happened to me 40 years ago on the day we moved into our new house.
We weren’t moving very far – just about a quarter mile from where we were living. That’s the wonderful thing about this little town; no one wants to leave! It’s quaint, friendly, clean and quiet with it’s beautiful harbor full of ships bobbing peacefully on small waves.
Moving day arrived and the crew was busy getting our boxes loaded for shipping to the new house. My husband stayed behind making sure all went smoothly while I headed over to the new house with our two small sons to wait for the moving vans.
We were sitting on the floor of our empty house playing a game when someone knocked on the door. It was our new neighbor, Debby, who came over to introduce herself. When she saw us sitting on the floor, she insisted we go over to her place which was right next door. When I explained that I was waiting for the moving vans to arrive, Debby said I’d have a clear view of my house from her comfortable sofa. I didn’t need any more convincing and agreed to go over.
When we walked into Debby’s house, the first thing I noticed were the numerous framed photos of large fishing ships, most of them with her husband grinning and displaying a huge fish. I thought how nice it would be for my husband to have a fellow fisherman living next door.
Debby and I started talking and it was as easy and natural as rain. We had so much in common, it felt like we’d known each other all our lives. She also had two young sons and my boys had instant friends. We talked non-stop while I waited for the movers to show up; by the time the vans arrived, a great friendship had been formed and is still going strong. We’ve been through bad hair days, secrets, laughs, tears, vacations, runs to the emergency room, weddings, flooded basements, missing cats, birthdays, Covid, lots of wine, illness, school fairs, Christmases and devastating deaths.
It’s so nice when you have neighbors you get along with; it’s priceless when you have a great relationship like mine and Debby’s. We’re very close and so much alike, people think we’re sisters. If I need to cry or share a laugh, Deb’s the first one I call. The same is true for her. We are each others best friend, two women lucky to have this amazing “soulship” to carry us through the calm and choppy waters of life.
NAR©2024
This is “Wooden Ships” by Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.
Identical Grief: A Haibun
Written for dVerse Poetics: Picking Up The Pieces
where today we are sharing grief. This is my haibun.
Tomorrow will be 4 months since my husband’s identical twin brother died suddenly. His wife returned home from a walk and found him on the bedroom floor; she said he was still warm. The news felt like an arrow ripped through our hearts. Jim was dead. How was my sister-in-law ever again going to walk into her bedroom without picturing her husband’s body? How was my husband Bill going to face the rest of his life as the lone twin? At one time there were three brothers; now there is only Bill. This is the most difficult trial for him. My husband lost a piece of himself that day. We are numb, disbelieving, questioning, dazed, numb, numb, so unbelievably numb.
You know how people say that time flies? Not when it comes to Jim; time has stopped for us. Logically we know he’s dead but our hearts cannot accept it. It’s unbelievable, inconceivable for us. It doesn’t feel possible. We function normally every day, do the same old crap, talk and eat and laugh. We watch movies, go shopping, pay bills, gab on the phone, babysit. We live the same lives we lived before Jim died except he’s not here to share them and we cannot wrap our heads around that. It just doesn’t feel like he’s dead. He should be here. It’s not right that he’s not here. It’s like someone has played the cruelest joke on us.
Now, when my sister-in-law looks at Bill, it’s Jim’s face she sees. And sometimes when I look at my husband, I see Jim and I find myself pondering why Jim was the twin who was taken.
I am Bill’s wife but Jim was his other half.
save them in your heart
golden summer memories
for when winter comes
No idea who’s who!
NAR©2024
This is “Comfortably Numb” by Pink Floyd
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.
Wordle: Shadow Man
Written for Sunday Whirl Wordle 665
where we are to turn the word salad shown below
into a story or poem. Here is my story.
SHADOW MAN
It was a sense rather than actually seeing … his unmistakable silhouette inching closer to the back of my room. I used to have dreams where I would find myself stuck in a deep well and I would call out to anyone up on the surface for help. He would run to the well and drop a rope over the edge. I would climb up, elated to be rescued! My windswept hair was in a tangle and I reached out to pull him closer, to have him take me into his arms and trail warm kisses down my neck … but he was only a shadow and not a real man. I would awaken, saddened by the thought that my dreams would never come true. But tonight, as I recline on my bed tracing sketches of him on the sheet with my finger, I feel his presence in flesh and blood; I am eager to embrace my mysterious shadow man.
NAR©2024
This is “Golden Years” by David Bowie
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.
Driving All Night
Today at Song Lyric Sunday the theme is to choose a song beginning
with the same letter as my last name, which is R. Here is my feature.
Before you could send a text or call someone in their car, there was no way to communicate with a driver unless you had a certain telepathic love that could convey from a distance your desire to be with that person, something you might call – oh, I don’t know – maybe something like radar love.
In the song “Radar Love”, the MC has been driving all night but keeps pushing the pedal because he just knows that his baby wants him home. In his rush to be with her, he drives recklessly and dies in a car accident. Tragic, isn’t it? But perhaps all is not lost, as the song suggests …. the MC and his lover continue to have a radar love connection in the afterlife.
“Radar Love” was written in 1973 by the Dutch group, Golden Earring. Members at the time were lead vocalist Barry Hay, bass and keyboardist Rinus Gerritsen, Cesar Zuiderwijk on drums & percussion and George Kooymans, vocals and lead guitar. The single version reached #9 on the Record World chart, #10 on Cash Box and #13 on Billboard in the US. It hit the Top 10 in many countries, including the UK, Canada, Australia, Canada, Germany, and Spain.
Like other famous songs of the era such as “Bohemian Rhapsody” and “Stairway To Heaven”, “Radar Love” was composed as a suite with several distinctive and quite different sections. According to radar-love.net, the song has been covered more than 500 times.
This is “Radar Love” by Golden Earring
LYRICS
I’ve been drivin’ all night, my hand’s wet on the wheel
There’s a voice in my head that drives my heel
It’s my baby callin’, says I need you here
And it’s a half past four and I’m shiftin’ gear
When she is lonely and the longing gets too much
She sends a cable comin’ in from above
Don’t need no phone at all
We’ve got a thing that’s called radar love
We’ve got a wave in the air, radar love
The radio is playing some forgotten song
Brenda Lee’s “Coming On Strong”
The road has got me hypnotized
And I’m speedin’ into a new sunrise
When I get lonely and I’m sure I’ve had enough
She sends her comfort comin’ in from above
We don’t need no letter at all
We’ve got a thing that’s called radar love
We’ve got a light in the sky, radar love
No more speed, I’m almost there
Gotta keep cool now, gotta take care
Last car to pass, here I go
And the line of cars drove down real slow
And the radio played that forgotten song
Brenda Lee’s “Coming On Strong”
And the newsman sang his same song
Oh one more radar lover gone
When I get lonely and I’m sure I’ve had enough
She sends her comfort comin’ in from above
We don’t need no letter at all
We’ve got a thing that’s called radar love
We’ve got a light in the sky
We’ve got a thing that’s called radar love
We’ve got a thing that’s called radar love
Writers: Barry Hay, George Kooymans
Publishers: Lyrics©Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Big thanks to Jim Adams for hosting another great Song Lyric Sunday this week. Be sure to check out Jim’s site.
Thanks for stopping by. See you on the flip side. 😎
NAR©2024
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and is not for use by anyone without permission. NAR©2017-present.
My Baby’s Baby: A Dectina Refrain
It’s
really
amazing
how time flies by.
People say ‘don’t blink’;
where did fifteen years go?
She is my baby’s baby,
his first child and my first grandchild;
our world changed the instant she was born.
It’s really amazing how time flies by.
This is my beautiful granddaughter Mckenna; she’s funny and fun to be with. At one time she wanted to be a writer; now she’s hoping to become a professional musician in an orchestra. Her instrument of choice is the baritone sax … a powerhouse! She just finished her freshman year of high school and was accepted into the National Honor Society. She’s been a member of her school’s swim team for the last couple of years and today she will start her first job as a lifeguard for her town’s public pool. She really wanted that job and is psyched she passed the test. So are we! Congratulations, Mckenna! We’re so proud of you!
NAR©2024
This is “Don’t Blink” by Kenny Chesney
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.
A Daughter’s Memory
The idea of Father’s Day was first conceived by Sonora Smart Dodd, a loving daughter from Spokane, Washington. It was also inspired by Mother’s Day as Dodd wanted a day to honor her father as well. William Jackson Smart was a Civil War veteran and single-handedly raised Sonora and her siblings after the death of their mother.
My dad was a Sicilian immigrant who came to the US by boat in 1930 at the age of 15. He arrived with his father and two brothers … one older and the other younger. His mother and sister remained in Sicily for another few years; according to my grandfather, “America is no place for a woman”.
None of them spoke a word of English.
My father was an apprentice shoemaker in Sicily who took up barbering after getting settled in Brooklyn, NY. His good looks and charm endeared him to many people and he was liked by everyone.
It was my dad’s boss at the barbershop who gave him a brilliant piece of advice. As was his habit, my father bought the Italian newspaper every day to read during his down time at work. One day the boss said to him in Italian “Hey, Vito! If you ever hope to speak English, do yourself a favor and start buying the New York Times every day and read it from front to back.” My father realized the importance of that advice and started buying the NY Times the very next day. With the added help of his English-speaking customers, he became fluent in English and lost his accent with no formal schooling. One of the proudest moments in his life was completing the NY Times crossword puzzle … in ink!
Dad became a US citizen and eventually landed a job with the post office. He was a US Army veteran who drove a jeep throughout Europe during WWII without ever having earned a driver’s license. He never did get his license and never drove again after his stint in the army.
My father loved music, especially opera, and I was exposed to classical music and opera at a very early age. The basics in life were Dad’s tenets … family, God, country, his job, providing a roof over our heads, food on the table and a good education. He was also the fun-loving one, with Mom always busy “cleaning up his messes”.
Dad loved people and entertaining in our home. He would often invite people for dinner without clearing it with Mom first. No wonder she was always pissed off! Dad was often in trouble for that and I found that devilish quality one of his most endearing traits. He truly meant no harm. He was a good and decent man who loved and was loved in return. And in the end can any of us want more than that?
Happy Father’s Day to all my guys on WordPress. I hope your day is as special as you are.
NAR©2024
This is “O mio babbino caro” (“Oh my dear daddy”) performed by Renée Fleming
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.
On The Rocks – Part 3: In The Beginning
Written for The Unicorn Challenge where we are
encouraged to write a story in 250 words or less
using this photo as our inspiration. Here is my story.
Handsome Nigel Forsythe taught history at the university where Camilla Saunders was the librarian. His penchant for crime novels brought him to Camilla’s desk every week. She was a mousy thing with dull hair and thin lips but splendid breasts for which Nigel had a hankering.
When he asked her out for coffee, she accepted. Getting to know one another was excruciating but Nigel persevered, no doubt spurred on by the thought of getting into Camilla’s blouse.
On their fourth coffee date, Nigel suggested they do “something different”; Camilla was apprehensive but went along. They drove to a secluded park with meandering pathways and steps that seemingly led to nowhere.
“Aren’t the flowers lovely, Camilla?” Nigel asked and was rewarded with a thunderous sneeze.
“Allergies” Camilla complained.
“Watch the ivy, Camilla. We wouldn’t want you getting your heels caught up in it.”
“Nigel, this looks like poison ivy. I’m allergic and don’t have my EpiPen! Why did you insist on bringing me to this horrible jungle?”
“It’s hardly a jungle, Camilla, and the view from the top is to die for.”
With each step Camilla’s breathing became more labored until she was near collapse.
Camilla turned. Nigel was stunned to see her blouse soaked with sweat and clinging to her heaving breasts. He grabbed her shoulders, planting a hungry kiss on her cadaverous lips.
Camilla broke away, slapped Nigel and ran down the steps to the car. They drove back to the university in stony silence.
Nigel was not deterred.
NAR©2024
250 Words
This is “Love Bites” by Def Leppard with the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.
Come Softly: Dectina Refrain & Haiku
Written for Jim’s Thursday Inspiration #231 –
“Come Softly To Me”. Here is my piece,
a Dectina Refrain followed by a haiku.
Do
You hear
Me tapping
On your window
Come softly darling
Sit right here beside me
Kiss my trembling fingertips
Take me in your arms and hold me
Tell me you will never let me go
Do you hear me tapping on your window
A petal soft kiss
Fluttering cherry blossoms
Love’s gentle breezes
NAR©2024
The Dectina Refrain is written as follows:
1st line is 1 syllable,
2nd line is 2 syllables,
3rd line is 3 syllables, and so on for 9 lines;
the 10th line is comprised of the first four lines
and written as one stand-alone line.
This is “Come Softly To Me” by the Fleetwoods
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.
Love Happens
Written for Weekend Writing Prompt #367 using the required
word “party” in exactly 88 words; Weekly Prompts Weekend Challenge,
with the required word “peak” and Weekly Prompts Wednesday
Challenge using the required word “sunset“. Here’s my flash.
Yesterday was our anniversary, wed 52 years. No party necessary.
None of our friends who married around the same time are still together. How sad is that?
People have asked “What’s the secret to a long and happy marriage?” For us it’s pretty simple: respect, communication, honesty, having a sense of humor.
When you combine those ingredients, love happens. You can manage the lows and celebrate the peaks, watch the dawns and the sunsets, walk hand-in-hand through the ordinary and make it extraordinary.
That’s us. Uncomplicated. Happy together.
NAR©2024
88 Words
This is “Happy Together” by the Turtles.
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.
The Root Of The Problem
Written for Stream of Consciousness Saturday where we are asked
to start our piece with a question. Bonus points have been hinted at
if we also end our piece with a question. Here is my questionable
stream based on a conversation I had with my husband.
“What would you say if I decided to let my hair go natural? You know, go grey?”
“I’d have to ask why you would want to do that. You always take great pride in looking younger than you are. Wouldn’t grey hair make you look older?”
“Well, I’m not sure we can toss a blanket over all women with grey hair and say they look older. There are other factors that come into play. I’ve always had great skin. Won’t I still have great skin if I go grey? How can I just arbitrarily assume I will look older?”
“Ok, I’ll give you that much. You can’t assume you will definitely look older. You’ve told me how much you like the color of your hair. I’m surprised you’re suddenly considering changing it. Where is this coming from?”
“Honestly, I’ve been thinking about it for a while. It would be so much easier not having to color my hair and get highlights every couple of months. Besides, when we were at your sister’s house the other day, I was the only woman who still colors her hair.”
“And you were the best looking one at the table!”
“You have to say that; I’m your wife! Your sister’s grey hair looks gorgeous. I know women who’d kill to have her color.”
“But there’s no guarantee you’ll end up with the same color, is there?”
“Well, no …. I suppose not. But my colorist is so talented, I just know she’d do a great job transitioning my hair.”
“Now I’m confused. If you want to stop coloring your hair, what does your colorist have to do with any of this?”
“My colorist will add some grey to my hair …. like getting highlights only they’d be grey instead of blonde. She’d gradually add more until my hair is completely grey, then I can naturally let my grey roots grow out.”
“Seem’s like an awful lot of work to me. Why not just stop coloring your hair and let nature take it’s course?”
“That’s a terrible idea! It’ll take forever and look awful growing out!”
“Well, if you’re convinced this is what you want, I’m not going to stop you.”
“I’m not at all convinced this is what I want; that’s why I asked you in the first place.”
“Ok, then my answer to your question is ‘Don’t go gray. I love your hair color the way it is.”
“Well, I’ll have to give that more thought. What do you think about me cutting my hair?”
“Seriously?”
NAR©2024
#SoCS
This is “The Girl I Love She Got Long Black Wavy Hair” by Led Zeppelin
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.
The Apartment: The Continuing Story of Harvey and Fiona
Written for The Unicorn Challenge where we are encouraged
to get creative in 250 words or less using the photo prompt
as inspiration. This is my 2nd story of Harvey and Fiona.
For another look at the 1st installment, click here.
Harvey and Fiona were as different as a gorilla and a swan but they had an undeniable chemistry and started falling in love. No one was more surprised than Fiona .… except her parents.
There was a major obstacle her parents couldn’t overlook – Harvey was Jewish. Fiona’s very Irish-Catholic father hated Harvey, calling him ‘Christ killer’ and ‘kike’. Her mother was crushed. “Jesus, Mary and Joseph! Can’t you see he’s no good for you? I don’t trust him, Fina girl!” she warned, crying into her apron. Fiona would not be dissuaded; with a heavy heart she closed the door of her childhood home behind her and never looked back.
Harvey and Fiona were married in city hall, the judge and his clerk their only guests and witnesses. After a weekend honeymoon in Niagara Falls, the couple settled into Harvey’s tiny apartment – a walk-up on the fifth floor with a depressing view of factories and government buildings.
Harvey worked the graveyard shift as a printer at the local newspaper, seven days a week from midnight till 8:00 AM. His fingernails were perpetually stained with black ink. The first morning he came home from work and saw the newly decorated apartment, he yelled furiously at Fiona for spending his money on unnecessary things. Uncaring, he left ink stains on the new bedspread when he sat down to remove his shoes.
Fiona cried silently in the kitchen. Harvey sidled up behind her, kissed a spot below her ear and she leaned into him.
NAR©2024
250 Words
This is “Love With The Proper Stranger” by Jack Jones
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.
Forever Home
Sadje is asking us What Do You See – #241
Here is my response.
It’s 8AM at the humane society and all the residents are enjoying their freshly cleaned digs, and that means nice crisp newspapers lining the floor, just in case. Accidents happen, you know!
Today they’re in for a special treat; the papers are opened to the birth announcements page!
All the pups are besotted by the photo of a beautiful baby with big blue eyes. Sure looks like a playful and happy little tyke! They stare longingly at the baby’s photo, wistfully talking among themselves about the greatest thing that could happen to them, the one thing that would change their lonely doggie lives …. to be adopted and to find themselves in a new forever home with a special friend to play with and grow up with …. just like this little guy.
“It sure would be swell, wouldn’t it?” they ask each other, visions of blankets, chew toys and bouncy rubber balls swirling in their heads. “Maybe today will be our lucky day!”
At 9AM the humane society opens its doors to the public and a few families start streaming in. Most of the parents are being tugged by eager kids hoping to find a best friend to share their home and their lives. Everyone is optimistic and excited.
Today is a big day …. maybe it will be their lucky day!
NAR©2024
#WDYS
Shelter dogs react to being adopted. Don’t shop …. adopt!
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.
Getting Kookie On The Beach
Written for Six Sentence Story where Denise
encourages us to get creative in just six sentences
incorporating the word “engagement”. Here’s my six.
The idea of my parents chaperoning me to the beach that night was mortifying but I figured I had to suck it up if there was a ghost of a chance of having any fun during this vacation in Surf City, so that night my mother, father and I went for a stroll on the beach, me hanging back about ten feet or so hoping the cool bonfire kids would think I was by myself; music was playing and marshmallows were roasting on long sticks …. everyone was tan and blonde and beautiful …. and that’s when I saw him …. he looked just like Edd ‘Kookie’ Byrnes from ’77 Sunset Strip’ and when he glanced up as we walked by and smiled, I fell hopelessly in love.
Thankfully, my parents quietly observed the group without their usual compulsion to make conversation and, satisfied what they saw wasn’t a remake of “Reefer Madness”, sat for a while high on a dune delighting in the reflection of the moon on the water; when it was time to go, the three of us walked back to the beach house …. but not before I had a chance to look over my shoulder and give Edd a little wave; he grinned and waved back (I was in heaven) and I knew I had to go to the next bonfire – alone.
I guess being out in the sun all day must have fried my parent’s brains because, when I nonchalantly asked them the next night if I could walk down to the bonfire by myself for a little while, they actually agreed; all I could think about was seeing Edd again and how relieved I felt that my older sister considered herself “too mature for a teeny-bopper beach party” and didn’t want to tag along.
The group was friendly and waved me over so, as casually as possible, I headed straight for Edd and sat down next to him and someone handed me a cold beer …. my first ever .… which I liked quite a bit; the kids were into Jan and Dean and The Beach Boys …. I was a Beatles girl but I wasn’t going to let that get in the way …. and by the end of the night, Edd and I were holding hands and agreed to meet again the following night.
That was the most blissful week of my young life …. lots of kissing and petting …. professions of love …. an “engagement ring” fashioned from a Bud Lite pull tab …. but we didn’t go beyond 2nd base; in all my 16 years, I’d never been as happy or excited to be with someone as I was with Edd.
At the end of the week we exchanged phone numbers and promised to call each other but that didn’t happened and it’s ok …. I never really thought it would …. I’m content with the memory; one thing I’m sure of is none of my friends will ever be able to say they spent a week making out on the beach with Edd ‘Kookie’ Byrnes.
NAR©2024
This is a really awful song called “Like, I Love You” by Edd ‘Kookie’ Byrnes and Joanie Sommers.
Here’s the theme song for the TV show, “77 Sunset Strip”.
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.
Perfect Day For Planting
Written for Six Sentence Story where we are asked
to be creative in no more than six sentences
using the word “light”. This is my story.
We got a late start with spring cleaning in our yard, especially along the side of the house where our attached garage is located; even though the gardeners had cleared a lot of old shrubbery away for some new plants and bushes, it was just not meant to be after we were derailed by the sudden death of my husband’s twin brother on April 2 and me being sidelined since the first week of May by a major sinus infection (the heavy-duty antibiotics have left me “out of commission” and able to eat only extremely light meals or, at times, nothing at all).
In mid-May, we put in a couple of small white azaleas, relocated a baby rhododendron which wasn’t doing well in the far back corner of the yard and planted a bit of Blue Bugle and Lilies of the Valley for light ground cover (along the side of the house, not visible in this pic), but that’s as far as our broken spirits and depleted bodies would allow us go.
When Colette is here with us (Tuesdays, Thursdays and the occasional Saturday or Sunday) and the weather is good, she wants to be outside; hell, even if the weather isn’t good, she wants to be outside – a phenomenon about most children that escapes me as they (well, she definitely) seem to be impervious to heat or cold or rain or snow or wind – all the elements, times when Bill and I would prefer being inside nestled in our recliners with a lightweight blanket.
Speaking of nestled, we discovered that sparrows had made their nest in an old watering can in the corner of Colette’s playhouse; the mama and papa birds are very resourceful, building the new home in a location almost invisible to us, one which I discovered quite by accident when I heard a faint chirping noise coming from the playhouse and …. with my trusty flashlight in hand …. I went to take a peek but was immediately dive-bombed by a wildly protective kamikaze sparrow which, when it sped just inches by my head, had me believing it was a small bat …. terrifying!
Tuesday the temps soared to a scorching 86ºF – a leap from the mild low-70s of just the day before – so it was, according to Colette, the “perfect day for planting!” …. a concept I did not agree with thinking it was too hot and we would be in direct blazing sunlight for the entire time …. but I did not object (mainly because the child could not be dissuaded and it was far less taxing than yet another round of the Disney edition of Monopoly); armed with our faithful spades, Bill with his macho shovel and pitchfork, we planted another azalea along the side of the house, then Colette and I pulled all the weeds and detritus from the two ancient cement planters on either side of the bench you see in the above photo, replacing all of what was growing in them as haphazardly as Albert Einstein’s hair with two bright pink kalanchoe plants, then stood back to proudly bask in the glory of our gardening prowess.
Of course, manual labor such as that demands a reward and certainly not a monetary one which would be looked upon with disdain and confusion by a 4-year-old whose idea of recompense consists solely of instant gratification in the form of ice cream – the I-don’t-give-a-hoot-how-messy-I-get kind – and after getting Colette situated in her pink fairy chair, pinning up her waist-length hair and snapping on the 15-year-old bib we originally used for our first grandchild, Mckenna, I disappeared into the kitchen and returned with fudge-covered vanilla ice cream pops for Colette and Bill and a lemon ice for me; judging by the look on her face and the twinkling, totally satisfied light in her eyes (photo below), Colette was over the moon with her sweet, sloppy treat and …. you know …. she was right after all about it being the “perfect day for planting!”
NAR©2024
This is “Let It Grow” by Eric Clapton
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not for use by anyone without permission. NAR©2017-present.
Moonspell: A Haibun
Written for Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Photo Challenge #513,
Weekly Prompts Colour Challenge (orange), Moonwashed Weekly
Prompt (hazy moon) & Weekly Prompts Wednesday Challenge (regret)
I was lost, a bit frightened and filled with regret for not making a note of the address. A hazy moon began to make her appearance in the evening sky, leaving the tiny Palermo street awash in a warm orange glow. Squinting in the darkness, I saw what appeared to be a tunnel at the end of the street; there was no way I was going to walk into the black unknown. Slowly I inched closer and discovered the tunnel was actually a stairway. Just as I quickened my pace, an arm shot out of a hidden doorway and pulled me inside, pinning me against a wall. A deep voice I knew intimately whispered in honeyed Sicilian tones “Picchì ci haiu misu tantu tempu, amuri miu? Ti vogghiu beni!”º Passionate kisses drifted down my neck. Breathless, I murmured “I’m here now, my love. Show me.”
Kiss me now, my love,
In the warm glow of the moon
You possess my heart
NAR©2024
º“What took you so long, my love? I am burning for you.”
This is the Flamingos with “I Only Have Eyes For You”
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and is not for use by anyone without permission. NAR©2017-present.
Lovesick: A Six Sentence Ovi
Written for Three Things Challenge #M681
and Six Sentence Story using the words
level, shudder, shake and quiver
Come on baby, for goodness sake
Give me some of that shimmy shake
With lips as sweet as birthday cake
I got it bad and it’s so good.
Listen now, I’m on the level
I’ve been stung by the love devil
What you’ve got is kind of special
It’s something I just can’t explain.
In your arms I melt like butter
You can really make me shudder
Then I stammer and I stutter
Sounds like I’m losing control.
First my body starts to quiver
From my head down to my liver
Then up my spine runs a shiver
What the hell is going on?
Legs and feet are very chilly
Arms and hands go willy nilly
Now I’m feeling downright silly
Maybe I should call the doctor.
I hope I don’t sound shallow
Or come across as callow
But I love a sweet marshmallow
Come here sugar, lets make S’mores.
NAR©2024
#TTC
This is Patsy Cline with “Lovesick Blues”
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and is not for use by anyone without permission. NAR©2017-present.
It’s All Going To Be OK
Written for Six Sentence Story ~ “tonic” and
Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Sunday Confessionals ~ “sweet”
It doesn’t happen very often but last Sunday was a rare babysitting day for us; our usual days to watch our 4-year-old granddaughter Colette are Tuesday and Thursday but both our son and daughter-in-law (Colette’s mom & dad) had to work over the weekend. That was a rarity for them as well, but one is a librarian and the other a doctor and with both the library and the hospital open every day of the week, they sometimes pull a weekend shift but seldom do their rotations coincide as they did last Sunday.
My husband Bill has been having good and bad days this month, thinking about and missing his twin brother who died suddenly on April 2, so our son has been extra considerate, asking if watching Colette at this time is too much of an imposition; we answer without hesitation “Not at all …. in fact, just the opposite!”
Colette is always fun to be with but recently she has been a true blessing and a much-needed distraction …. a tonic, a balm for our sad and broken hearts, a healing magical concoction of love, joy, sunshine and humor blended with a combination of innocent wisdom and an intuitive nature that defies her tender age.
We were looking through some old photo albums with Colette …. snapshots of Bill and his brother as babies, as kids growing up on City Island, our wedding photos …. and even though Colette knew Bill’s brother and saw them together many times, seeing those photos left an impression on her, especially the ones of Bill and Jim when they were babies; it’s true, you know, that when our kids and grandkids are little and they look at us, they only see us as we are and have no idea we were ever any younger than we are right now.
One particularly sweet photo of Bill and Jim brought tears to my husband’s eyes and though he tried to hide his tears, they spilled through his fingers causing Colette to ask why he was so sad and we explained that Uncle Jim was gone, that he had left us to be with God in heaven; she thought for a second, put her little hand on Bill’s and said “Well, that’s ok, Grampy; don’t worry because God will take good care of him and it’s all going to be ok.”
NAR©2024
This is Stevie Wonder with “You Are The Sunshine Of My Life”
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and is not for use by anyone without permission. NAR©2017-present.
The Floor Lamp
Written for Six Sentence Story
where the prompt word is “present”
When little Summer was just a few days old, her mother Laura started the tradition of sitting with her in the nursery to read stories before bed; in the corner of the nursery was an old floor lamp that used to belong to Laura’s grandparents, Momma and Poppy, and it filled the nursery with a soft, soothing glow.
As a little girl, Laura spent a lot of time with Momma and Poppy and the three of them developed a deep and loving bond so when Momma and Poppy passed away, the one thing Laura asked for was the floor lamp which was in the bedroom of their house where little Laura napped; now, each night Laura would tell baby Summer all about her beloved Momma and Poppy.
This one particular night as Laura and Summer were sitting in the nursery, the glow from the floor lamp caught the baby’s attention and she was captivated by it, something Laura thought was a sweet connection, especially since the lamp originally belonged to Momma and Poppy, Summer’s great-grandparents, but then Laura noticed a pattern developing, a pattern that would repeat two or three times most nights at Summer’s bedtime where the baby would gaze calmly and quietly at the lamp, then slowly begin to coo, gurgle and giggle for a few minutes before becoming animated – smiling, eyes glowing, arms waving, laughing and babbling loudly – then back again to quietness but still very much attracted to and aware of the lamp …. even when the floor lamp was off, Summer was attracted to it.
One afternoon when Summer was around 3 years old, Laura heard her talking and laughing, just like she did when playing with her stuffed animals, and when Laura peeked into Summer’s room expecting to find her little girl on the bed, she was surprised to see her in the big over-stuffed chair where Laura read bedtime stories; the floor lamp was lit and Summer appeared to be having a happy and lively conversation – not with her stuffed animals but with the lamp.
When Laura asked Summer who she was so happily talking to, the little girl was quick to reply “Momma and Poppy, of course; can’t you see them, Mommy?”
Laura caught her breath for a moment but she was not completely shocked for she knew Momma and Poppy’s lamp was special – the very reason Laura wanted it in her own home, but she didn’t realize how special it was; Laura never tried to stop Summer from talking to the lamp for she truly believed the spirits of Momma and Poppy were present and Summer’s conversations with them were real …. and who are we to say they weren’t. 🪽
NAR©2024
This is “Guardian Angels” performed by John McLaughlin, Larry Coryell and Paco De Lucia
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and is not for use by anyone without permission. NAR©2017-present.
Anticipation: Dectina Refrain
Written for Quadrille Monday dVerse Poets Pub; De Jackson is
asking us to create a 44-word poem using the word “Friday”.
My poem is a Dectina Refrain:
1st line is 1 syllable, 2nd line is 2 syllables
3rd line is 3 syllables, and so on for 9 lines;
the 10th line is comprised of the first four lines
as one stand-alone sentence.
Our
Friday
night dinner
we wait all week
to sit on the couch
and eat sexy pizza
with cheese like hot melted love,
gooey and deliciously good,
and we drink tall glasses of red wine.
Our Friday night dinner we wait all week
NAR©2024
44 Words
#TGIF
This is “Makin’ Whoopee” by Dr. John and Rickie Lee Jones
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and is not for use by anyone without permission. NAR©2017-present.
The Elephant's Trunk 