February 2007 Submissions

A Time for Forgiveness
 
Jordan Conran went to the desk to confirm her appointment with Dr. Hoyt.

 

"Dr. Hoyt isn't here today," said the nurse on duty. "His replacement, Dr. Clark, will see you shortly. Please be seated.

 

"But… when will Dr. Hoyt be back?"

 

"Not before the 25th, in two weeks' time; he's been sick with the flu."

 

"Dr. Clark," Jordan thought, "but I thought…" She went to sit in the darkest alcove of the large waiting room. "What on earth is he doing here; his speciality is not clinical medicine, it's clinical psychology." Dr. Clark was the very last person Jordan wanted to see. Not today, not ever. In fact, she thought she'd never see him again.  

 

It happened many years ago, when she was a psychology student and he was an assistant to her father, the well-known psychiatrist Dr. Anthony Conran. Dr. David Clark, originally from Edinburgh, Scotland, was on his way to becoming a name in behavioural psychology in New York. Jordan's main interest was in pediatric psychology; she was going to specialize in children's traumatic psychology. Naturally because he was always in contact with her father Jordan and David sympathized and became at one time even thought about marriage. When Jordan found she was pregnant, she waited for a very special moment to announce her wonderful news. That moment never came, for David was often called away to undertake difficult and time-consuming cases with law officers concerning psychopathic killers, and never seemed to be free. In time Jordan was eventually left behind and left more and more on her own to handle the circumstances of her condition.

 

Eventually Jordan just gave up. She found work as a clinical psychologist with UNESCO and went on short missions not too far from San Francisco, her home base. The stress and constant movement was so rude on her health that Jordan suffered a miscarriage. She was bitterly disappointed but in a way it appeared a bittersweet revenge. Now she was clean of all connection with David Clark in her life.

 

That was some twelve years ago. Jordan never heard from Dr. Clark or came across his  name since that time. So what was a specialist in behavioural psychology doing here in this particular hospital service?  

 

"Miss Conran, Miss Conran…" That voice, with its lilting Scots accent, was unmistakable. In spite of not having heard it for a long time, Jordan could recognize it anywhere. Looking up, she saw David's deep blue eyes peering down at her. As he reached to help her up, she quickly rose and crossed the waiting room to the open office door.

 

No doubt you're wondering what I'm doing here, apparently out of my own specialization. There was no one else to replace Dr. Hoyt, and as I happen to be available, waiting for the new psychiatric service to open, I was asked to take over this office this past week until a proper clinical replacement can be found. After all, I am a medical doctor, too.

 

"Let me tell you what happened to me ("As if I was interested…" thought Jordan). I spent many years working with law officers and the courts in New York then I returned to Edinburgh when I heard you had left New York for good.  There I worked with an imminent Professor of Medicine at the University of Edinburgh and married his daughter. But that didn't work, as she was more interested in my prestige and money than in me. The divorce became final a month ago and I came back to the States, but wanted to avoid New York so I came here to San Francisco. I've been here only a week when I heard a new psychiatric service was opening here in this hospital and needed an assistant behavioural psychologist.  

 

As I have been able to see by your medical records (Jordan quickly looked up and frowned. "What right did he have to look into my private life," she scowled to herself.) I was shocked to see what you've been through these past years. I'm so sorry. I…I was wondering if I wasn't the cause of it all. Before we talk about your medical exams, tell me…how have you really been all these years, have you seen your Dad?"

 

Jordan wanted to scream at him "So what do you want now…forgiveness, kiss and  forget about the past and all those special feelings?" Instead, she took a deep breath and said," It's not been easy, you know, being in the background and then just being dropped and forgotten like a leaf from a tree. You have no idea how I felt, how I felt completely abused and discarded, like an old garment. I've been able to take things stoically with time, and like the Buddhists would say, just let it wash over me and become unattached to the situation. Through my missions with UNESCO in Southeast Asia I've practically forgotten about it…it's the past and  over; gone into eternity. My work these past years has been the best therapy I could have ever wished for and it helped in a very considerable way get over the worse of everything."

 

"Dad is fine. I have been working with him until just a few weeks ago in New York, but I left because I found life there too artificial. I returned here the first of this month and have been looking for work since. In the meantime, I decided to go through my annual check ups in this hospital to pass the time."

 

David smiled, showing even white teeth. "Let's get down to your exams. You'll be very happy to know that they are all negative and you've been given a clean slate. You are now considered completely cured of your breast cancer. I wish you knew how much this news makes me feel so much better for you. I haven't been able to forgive myself for what I've done to you. I hope you'll not hate me for it."  

 

 "You know, I don't hate you now, David. I just don't have the ability to hate someone who, through no control of his own, was able, in letting me go, allowed me to find my true mission in life. I don't think I would have ever found it if I wasn't left out, if I had stayed with you. For me that was the most important thing in my life and it still is. It's take me some time to say this, but I'll say it now right in front of you: you're forgiven…let the past be gone."

            

"All right, let's let the past be gone. But what about the future? Will you still be willing to share it with me after all you've been through?"

 

Jordan thought for a moment, then said, "Let me think on it; I need first to concentrate on finding myself a stable job. After that, I'll know where
Joanne

~ The Writer's Block ~

Time is running out
though I'm overwhelmed by
the nature of the beast
that lays in wait
while I rush frantically
crying
trying
while inside dying....
I don't think I can make it
I've come so close
yet I still have so far
to go
Or so it seems....
My mind is filled with
emptiness
I've a blank
and I cannot think
While the paper in my hand
remains devoid of
Words
Heart
And soul....
While I've nothing to say
I simply cannot go on;
This path is complete
...though I am not....

© Christina

Love,,,,,,,,,
the hardest and yet easiest word to say
harder to grow
harder still to hold on to
 
Fragile, shattered without care
Solid gold burned of dross from trails of fire
 
Misspoken at times
held alone at others
painfully clung to
painfully let go
claimed for much more than a precious gem
 
Able to break you with a single word
first, last & forever
wreak, make or change you
hurt, raise or pain you
 
Often kept to self
for fear of rejection
 
It can bring you to tears
losing it take your life
waiting on it empower
or crush you to dust
 
May your love
be of crystal
shining out for all around
may it never leave when
when life comes around
 
Marie Kathryn Casalaspro
Feb 28, 2007
 

Romeo and Juliet, we all know the story

true love brought two lives together
bound together in death
well that's just a play
a pretty thing
for the world to see
brought to life
 
True love, does it even exist?
or is that too a dream?
a fantasy made up for telling
to make the masses dream
 
Or it it true
not just a flowery thing
but one made from something
far stronger than the stuff of fantasies
something that doesn't end with death
but goes on for years longer than mere mortals
 
I say true love exists
may we all know it's draw
 
Marie Kathryn Casalaspro
Feb 28, 2007

The Writer

Sitting here
pen in hand
blank paper before my eyes
 
words fall
gathering like snowflakes
snowballing on, they roll on
taking form as the hand moves
 
Thought become real
dreaming take flight
from the simple writing of the world on the page
 
Poured upon
over and over
do you see it
or just catch a glimpse
of the power behind them
just simmering to the surface
 
Worlds created by the stroke
of that same said pen
or take apart
by the mingling of words
 
the paper
just the canvas
for this new found wonder
 
the pen laid down
the paper full
the writer rises
to stop the whistling
of the kettle...till next time
 
Marie Kathryn Casalaspro
Feb 28. 2007

One

Small and alone
one am I
do you hear my voice
do you know the screams
that wreck my mind?
 
One
like a single gem
the jeweler forgot
or yet saved for something more precious
 
One
so alone at times
surrounded by those other ones
not knowing their innermost lives
not knowing if they share my pain
or are filled with ones of their own,
 
One
Aren't we all one
small and alone?
 
 
Marie Kathryn Casalaspro
Feb 28, 2007
This is true, and it just happened about an hour ago.  I wrote about it immediately.  I am going to sit down and write a letter to her, please let me know what you think of this poem because I am thinking of sending it to her.  Critique and suggestions begged for.
 
Thank you
Meredith
 
---
 

Birth Mother Call

 

I met my birth mother today

I really didn’t know what to say.

It seemed she didn’t know as well

And we sat on the phone waiting to tell

Each other what was on our mind

But neither of us able to find

The right words to use

To say what we choose.

The written word we both felt

Is far better for how we dealt

With complex emotions.

We go through the motions

When speaking is needed

We both feel defeated

But written is better

We both are unfettered

And can speak with ease

For all of our needs.

What the letter will show

I am unable to know

But I hope that its part

Of a wonderful start

To a friendship that started

When we were parted.

Perceived

 
Things aren’t always what they seem
They aren’t always as we are lead to believe
The old adage says one man’s junk is treasure to someone else
Looking back maybe isn’t the best thing to do
Situations are not always as they are perceived

Genta

Blood Love
 
5/8/89
 
Slowly we drink
Our special red wine
From long-stemmed crystal glasses
A single drop floats gently
Gently down your chin
We glance up, our eyes meet
And we smile
Our long sharp fangs
Glisten in the moonlight
 Amy
THE EMPTY HALLWAY

The hallway was silent as I was the only one around. I was waiting
for my friend, Christine, to answer the door. I began to worry as
there was no answer. I dialled her number from my mobile phone and it
went straight to her answering machine, so I left a message. As I
began to worry about her even more, I heard footsteps coming from
behind me,

"Clare!!", a man's voice said. "Why are you here in this empty spooky
hallway?"

"How…………how do you know my name?" I asked as I turned around.

"I know many things, as I know you are worried about Christine. Don't
worry about her, she is safe and well." The man said.

"What have you done to Christine?" I asked in a frightened voice.

The strange man then grabbed me, so I screamed for help.

"It's no good shouting for Christine as she can't hear you!" the man
shouted. "No one can hear you scream, so SHUT UP!"

As I started screaming louder, the man puts his hand over my mouth. I
try and bite him but he is to strong.

Clare

The Weeping Rose
by
FlaIsleGirl@aol.com

the roses were weeping, it had been far too long,
once full of life, now brown and long gone,
I weeped as I watched, the last petal fall
dryness had come, to claim one and all

than, soft as a rose petal, it touched my cheek,
the first winds that blew, as clouds hovered so meek
looking, hoping, my chin lifted to see
what was crying, sighing, bringing breezes to me

a cloud filled with tears, gave a cloudburst of rain
my hands, shy and shaking, reach out with great thirst
I wanted to touch, to feel, this warm scented rain
scented as rose petals close to my face
and falling so sweetly to meet mother earth

storms can be angry, and tear at the sky
but there's rainbows within, and all storms will soon die
so when winds blow up harder, don't loose all your trust
just close your scared eyes, to keep out the dust

as winds cease to blow, look out of your room
for raindrops grow roses, and as storms brew the rain,
there is hope that the roses, will bloom brightly again

To watch you leave broke my heart.  I knew it was the last time I would ever see you.  That's why I called you back.  Remember that?  I called out to you, "Hey!"  You turned and I motioned for you to come back.  You walked back toward me and I could almost feel that you were afraid I might cry or do something that would make you feel bad or guilty for breaking my heart.  Instead, I smiled at you and said, "Don't ever forget that I love you and I will always be here for you.  Whatever you need, I'm here."  You smiled at me, sadly and playfully flicked the tip of my nose with your finger.  I saw the sparkle in your eyes, almost like before, but sad this time.

You turned and I stood in the doorway watching you walk away from me, out of my life, but not out of my heart.

~Corina Carrasco

I started out with the 'write about Valentine's Day without using these words' and it kinda turned into an anti-Valentine's rant.  lol  I've posted it to Ali's blog because I never realized I had such hostile feelings towards Valentine's Day.  lol  But, seriously, this is how I feel.  A  lot of people get way too wrapped up in it.  And 90% it's people in long-term relationships.  My husband loves me and I love him.  We have a good marriage and are good FRIENDS above all else.  Why should he have to spend $100 on flowers?  Seriously.  But, I digress... Here's my multi-tasking challenge.  lol
 

 

And for those who don't know who Sam Beckett is, he was Scott Bakula's character on Quantum Leap all those years ago.  Sam's catch-phrase was 'Oh boy' and every time he used it, you just knew he was in deep doo-doo.  lol

 

Enjoy!

 

Oh boy.  *she says in her best Sam Beckett voice*

 

It’s that time of year again.  You know what I mean.  That holiday that turns every woman into a gibbering idiot and gives the men a reason to act like one?  Little fat cherubs with blushing pink cheeks flying around causing trouble, shooting arrows and crap?

 

Yeah.  That day.

 

Now, I’m not a scrooge, bah-humbug-get-outta-my-face kind of girl, but then, I’m not Aphrodite either.

 

Why should your man have to prove to you on one particular day that he cares?  Shouldn’t this be an ongoing, daily thing?  Or at least weekly?  I’d like to think so.  I know that if my cowboy doesn’t at least call to say hi every now and then, he gets his butt whupped.  But then, he’s another story.  This is what kills me…

 

Why is it that you’ve been seeing this man for eighteen months or so and he often calls just to see how your day is going.  Other times, he surprises you with a CD by your favorite artist or a new book you’ve been meaning to buy.  And then other times he treats you to a night out or something else equally special.  Never anything major, but always enough. 

 

So, why is it you go ballistic when he forgets that one holiday?  Or, he does remember but doesn’t go whole hog like your friend’s boyfriend?  You just got a card and a nice home-cooked mea that, for once, you didn’t have to clean up.  She got diamond earrings and a night on the town.

 

What you conveniently forget is that her boyfriend never calls.  She is the one to plan all their dates.  She is the one waiting on him all the time.  He remembers her only three times a year – those three events where he’s required to: birthday, Christmas, and this dreaded one.

 

So, why are you whining?

 

It’s started here already.  People pairing up, or attempting to.  The whispers, the secrets, the planning.  I hate that my Blake isn’t going to be around, but that’s how it works.  At least he won’t feel pressured into competing with these dopes around here, each trying to outdo the other for the sake of one night of fun.  We can celebrate later on.  Maybe in March.  Yeah, that sounds good to me. 

 

But then, he loves to surprise me. 

 

I guess we’ll have to wait and see.  Either way, I know how he feels about me and I’ve made my feelings more than clear.  He knows that a simple call means more than diamonds or gold.  Although, chocolate is always a nice supplement…

 

*cough*

 

Sorry.  Mind wandered there a bit.  But seriously, when you know and he knows why does it matter so much?  Should it?  Not to me, it doesn’t.  I have my man; he cares, and lets me know it.  Do I need all the hype?  No.  Are presents nice?  Hell yeah, but they’re not needed.  I’d rather see that look in his eyes when we’ve been apart for too long.  Or the smile on his face after an afternoon walking in the park.

 

That’s what it’s all about. 

 Amy


He Was Empty
He was empty.  The sweet, loving, sensitive man was gone.  His eyes were cold.  He was quiet.  He missed the cues, saying nothing.  He did not feel anything any more.  He was a different person.  He was going through the motions.  For the first time in years, she was scared.

Her Purpose

As the airplane left the runway she was overcome by an incredible sadness.  She wasn't able to stop the tears that left her right eye and stained her makeup.  Then it hit her... her purpose.  She realized that she was put on Earth to make others happy, not to be happy.

Corina


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