Father's Day Tribute

I am posting a Father's Day tribute for a friend, Bennet Pomerantz, to his dad Thursday and Friday:

Father's Day

Writer’s notes
Its funny when I wrote this piece years ago, It echoed how I felt with the loss of my father David.
 I read this poem over my Father’s gravesite with family and friends present. My brother and I wanted to say something special to speak of our love for our father, who died four days after his 67th birthday. As a writer, I thought the best way to give him a tribute was a poem. Not to be rude to my brother, but I forgot what he said. I think it was the lines to Cats in a Cradle by Harry Chapin. I am unsure, I could be wrong


With the holiday of Father’s Day looming over me again, as It does every year. I have no children, so I feel very  empty. So this year for Father’s Day,  I wanted to share something about my father. Note this poem appears in  the collection Loving Hearts Live Forever.
 My heart go out to those whose parents are long gone, as my father is. Father’s day is a hard holiday to face for me. I hope your Father’s day is a happy one.
   Bennet


The Fisherman's Son
By Bennet Pomerantz

What I learned from my father . . .

People grow old, we all will die
and most of us truly never understand why.

Mysteries belong in novels.
Questioning why does not really help,
There are so many unanswered volumes,
which lay dormant upon the book shelf.
Death is for the living. Dying is the ages.
Blood isn't always thicker than water,
flowing like leaves from pages.

Promises are broken numerous times.
Too many opportunism are forsaken.
Work is power, money buys the finer things.
Life isn't forever and time is too quickly taken.

Day to day tends to become more morbid,
 so hard to comprehend.
You need to grown up fast, my son
and push as hard as you can.

I also learned is my father was a fisherman,
in both the land and the sea.
However his big catches were not fishes mounted on a wall,
but his family, friends and a wayward son, me.

I knew he wrestled and reeled in and out  the time with me,
casting, waiting, jostling with me all through my life . . .
Venturing boldly, many time with nothing gained,
sometimes day after day,  night after night

Love isn't measured in a teacup,
nor a saucepan, an eyedropper or a Swiss bank.
Riches are how you make them with the people in your life,
Good or bad, heartfelt or heartsank.

"Remember respect is earned, my son." my father said
"Learning is always done on a curve"
"Tomorrow's lessons you should learn today
by knowing what you are to watch, learn and observe."

I watched him leave on his boat, while I was sitting at the shore
he is still fishing without me as, I wait for the boat to dock today.
Watching the waves, hoping the boat Safari will come in soon,
as I sit perched myself  on the dock of Xanadu Bay

His boat still fishes upon the waters of his beloved Grand Bahamas.
knowing he is departed, awaiting for his return.
Time passes, his words still echo, some  hurtful and some wise.
Whereas I, the fisherman's son, still have so much to learn.

@Pen & Ink inc

TUESDAY TALES - FREE READS!

Tuesday Tales continue today. Join me and other Astraea Press authors as we write short stories to a word prompt. The prompt this week is "flowers". To read the full stories, click on the author's name. Scroll down for my story, "Mint Chip" . We hope you enjoy our stories.

J.F. Jenkins

Roses, and a card reading “Happy Birthday Mom” in rather fancy cursive. Someone is in town. I'm not sure how I feel about this. I mean, why now? Especially since this is the first time anyone has bothered to show up for five years?
(To read more, click on the author's name)

Kay Springsteen
Apparently she wasn't thrilled with being compared to a substitute anything, let alone a substitute some folks considered less satisfying than the real thing. "Not the root," he corrected. "The flower. Your eyes are the same blue as a chicory flower. It's what I first noticed. Out there on the road the other evening."
(To read more, click on the author's name)

J. GUNNAR GRAY

“Please tell me whatever you can,” Stoner said.

Mercer drew a deep breath. “We found her in the Dark.”

“Was it an accident?”

“No, sir.”

“Some wild beast?”

“A male one.”
(To read more, click on the author's name)

Chapters One - Three

MINT CHIP
Chapter Four

        Nina felt nervous as she walked up the steps to Clint’s rented house. She shook her head and laughed, which turned into a giggle when Clint opened the door.

            “Laughing already and I haven’t even given you a punch line,” he said, opening the door wide to let her in.

            His eyes widened to see her. She never looked as beautiful. The dress showed her shape to perfection. He liked the print, feminine but not obvious. The neckline was sufficiently low to give him a great view of her breasts and he couldn’t stop staring.

            “Did I spill something?” she said, looking down at the neckline of her dress.

            Clint’s face turned bright red. Then Nina figured out what he was looking at and she turned bright red, too. It had been a long time since a man stared at her breasts, she didn’t expect it. She was out of practice. How long has it been since a man made a pass at me? She smiled to herself. Can’t remember. Her blush faded to a soft, attractive pink and Clint’s smile widened.

            “So where is that champagne you promised me?” she asked.

            Clint bounced out of his reverie and closed the door behind her.

            “Right in here,” he said, taking her elbow and leading her into the living room.

            She felt the warmth of his hand on her and it made her tingle in places that had not tingled in a long time. She blushed. Clint looked at her with a quizzical expression, as if he was wondering where her new blush came from, which made her blush more. Nina hid her face and walked through French doors out onto the deck. The sun was still bright and the garden beautiful with orange, pink and white summer flowers blooming .

            “I have a black thumb. Everything I plant dies,” she said.

            “Not true. You’ve made the play grow,” he said, following her.

            “The play is all yours,” she said.

            “It isn’t. Who gave it the name, ‘Happy Family’?”

            “You’re going to use that?”

            “It’s perfect and it’s yours.”

            Nina couldn’t hide her pleasure at his use of the title she created. She wanted to be part of this play…not just reading the part of Eve, the leading lady, but part of its production, part of whatever would keep her near Clint.

            “Now it’s yours.”

            “It’s …ours,” he said, slipping his arm around her shoulders. He balanced the bottle of champagne and two glasses in his other hand. They walked to the table on the deck and Clint put the bottle down. He popped the cork and pour out two flutes.

            “To you…” he said.

            “To you…” she said.

            “To us!”

            They clinked glasses and drank. The bubbles tickled her nose and Nina remembered how much she liked champagne and how Henry would ply her with champagne whenever he had bad news about a three week business trip or a late evening at work coming up…never for a celebration.  This was different. She looked at Clint’s eager, happy face and raised her glass for another toast.

            “To ‘Happy Family’, may it play for five years.”

            “Five? How about ten?”

            Again they drank, keeping eye contact. Nina recognized the hungry look on Clint’s face and felt amused it should be directed at her. Amusement turned to excitement when she realized it wasn’t something passing across the face of a man with two glasses of champagne under his belt, but something lingering in his eyes, his smile, the way he looked at her, like she was Little Red Riding Hood and he was the wolf. It gave her goosebumps and a chill ran up her spine.

            The heat she felt for him spilled out through her gaze…flirting came back so easily, like riding a bicycle. She looked right into his eyes. He stepped closer to her, eying her lips as she raised her chin to make eye contact, his mouth came down on hers, softly, gently, testing the way, waiting for her response.

            Nina could not believe the electricity traveling through her body at the touch of his lips. She grasped the table to steady herself but it was unnecessary as his arm snaked around her waist and held her fast, pulling her slowly up against him. Then he stepped back.

            “Nina…I…”

            She put her finger on his lips and he stopped talking. Her hands grasped the lapels of his shirt and pulled him down to her. She closed her eyes and his lips found hers again. A soft kiss progressed to a passionate kiss as she melted in his arms. He angled his head and deepened the kiss. Nina relaxed as his arms pulled her flush up against him, crushing her breasts into his chest. She drove all thought from her mind and allowed her senses to take over. He tasted like champagne and smelled woodsy. Her hands touched his neck and creeped up into his hair, the strands tickling her palms. His hands slid down over her behind and squeezed gently. She uttered a soft moan as her excitement grew. She wanted him, wanted him as she had not wanted a man in a long time.

            Clint broke from her and stood back. They stared at each other, waiting for their breathing to return to normal. Nina could see the fire in his eyes and knew hers matched his.

            “Dinner,” he said.

            “Must we?”

              Nina clapped her hand over her mouth, surprised at her aggressive suggestion. A wicked grin spread across his face.

            “You’re my guest. Choice is up to you…if you would like to start with dessert first, who am I to interfere…”

            She reached up and gently moved a lock of hair out of his eyes. She has mussed up his carefully combed hair so she felt responsible for righting it. He took her hand and kissed the palm.

            “The choice is yours, my lady.”

            “Am I?”

            “Are you what?”

            “Your lady?”

            “I hope so.”

            Keeping hold of her hand he slowly pulled her closer until she was in his arms again. She rested her cheek against his chest, listening to the rapid beat of his heart. He tilted her chin up for another kiss. No holding back.

            While their tongues danced, his hand circled her breast, feeling its weight, the fingers closing gently around the soft flesh. Nina gave a tiny gasp but didn’t change her position.  His fingers came up to caress the exposed top of her breast and she moaned at the contact. Her small hand unbuttoned one button of his shirt and slipped underneath to feel the hardness of his chest and the soft hair there. A groan escaped from his throat as his passion became evident to her.

            Feeling heat consuming her, Nina stepped back from Clint and took his hand.

            “Dessert first,” she said.

            He smiled at her and moved toward the stairs, keeping hold of her hand, pulling her gently along behind him.

            Nina thought of all the things she should say, the excuses about her body and what breast feeding does to ones breasts and how ten more years of gravity pulls things down…but she held her tongue. After all, this was Clint. He knew all that and she saw by the heat of his gaze he didn’t care. She was his lady and he wanted to make love to her.

            So she shut her mouth, smiled and followed him up the stairs.

Six Sentence Sunday, a taste of "Sunny Days, Moonlit Nights"

It's Six Sentence Sunday Again. A bit about this snippet...Sunny spent the evening listening to the Mike and the band practice as well as joining Mike on a few Neil Diamond songs. They all shared pasta at Sunny's cabin. After the guys left, Mike and Sunny shared coffee and moonlight on the deck...

“I don’t know when I’ve had so much fun. Thanks,” she said,
looking up at the half moon shining above.
“Me, too. You have a great voice. Draws, paints and sings. A
Renaissance woman,” he said, smiling into her eyes.
“You guys are amazing. I can’t sing a cappella like that.”
“Have you tried? Don’t know till you try,” he said, watching
the moonbeams catch the glow of her hair.
“No, I haven’t. There are so many things I haven’t tried yet…”
she sighed.
“Here’s one you can take off the list,” he said, leaning over
and kissing her.


Return to: Six Sentence Sunday

Click any of these links to buy "Sunny Days, Moonlit Nights":

Amazon
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FAMOUS MOVIE LINES QUIZ WITH HOMER

Homer, my pug, asked me to post a quiz today (yes, he knows the word "post") and who am I to refuse a creature with this wonderful face? 

Can you come up with the names of AFI's top 100 movies these lines came from?


1.   "You talkin' to me?"

2.   "What we've got here is a failure to communicate."

3.   "I'm mad as hell and I'm not going to take this anymore!"

4.   "After all, tomorrow is another day."

5.   "There's no place like home."

6.   "You're gonna need a bigger boat."

7.   "It's alive! It's Alive"

8.   "A boy's best friend is his mother."

9.   "Mrs. Robinson, you're trying to seduce me...aren't you?"

10.  "You had me at 'hello.'"

11.  "Houston, we have a problem."

12.  "Yo, Adrian."



ANSWERS
1.   Taxi Driver
2.   Cool Hand Luke
3.   Network
4.   Gone with the Wind
5.   The Wizard of Oz
6.   Jaws
7.   Frankenstein
8.   Psycho
9.   The Graduate
10.  Jerry Maguire
11.  Apollo 13
12.  Rocky
Source: AFI's top 100 films wikipedia.

Any ideas for a quiz you'd like to see? Leave your ideas as
comment.

LOOKIING FOR MORE FAMOUS MOVIE LINES?
CONTINUE THE QUIZ WITH KAY SPRINGSTEEN
(click on her name to get to her blog and another quiz!)

SHORT STORIES TODAY - FREE READS!

Confessions and Lies Wednesday has been cancelled. Excerpts from works-in-progress, quizzes, Homer's Corner, and other mayhem will be substituted instead.

We're continuing the free reads today. Several Astraea Press authors write short stories to word prompts. So far we have used ice cream and post office. This week the word prompt is chignon. Read the snippets and click on the author's name to get to the rest of the story.  We'd love it if you left a comment, tell us if you like the stories or should we post something else?

FELICIA ROGERS

 Jack struggled to focus on the machine.  Just a few months before Jack urged the Jasper and Myrtle to purchase a new register.  The one they had was ancient and bad need of repair.  This was the brand new machine.  What could be wrong with it?

(To read the rest of this story, click on the author's name) 

 KAY SPRINGSTEEN

Kevin opened the refrigerator, unsurprised when he found regiments of food stored there. Soda bottles lined the wall on the right; in front of those, cans of soda. On the other side, two rows of yogurt containers held the line with a carton of milk. It looked a bit like a chess game being played between health food and junk food.

(To read the rest of this story, click on the author's name)

J.F. JENKINS

I wake up to the sound of feet running along the floor above me. My room is in the basement, so everything happening anywhere on the main floor? I hear it. 

(To read the rest of this story, click on the author's name)

J. GUNNAR GREY

"Congealed blood blackened Aunt Edith’s silk blouse. Its underlying color was unrecognizable. I only knew it was supposed to be green because she wore it during our unfriendly dinner the previous evening and I remembered."

(To read the rest of this story, click on the author's name)

JEAN JOACHIM

To read earlier chapters, click on links and scroll down.

Mint Chip - Chapter One

Mint Chip - Chapter Two

MINT CHIP

CHAPTER THREE 

       Standing in front of the full length mirror, Nina applied her lipstick. She was wearing a tiny flower print cotton sundress in pink, tangerine and white. The scoop-neck bodice fit snugly and the skirt was full, making her waist appear narrower than it was. She applied the dark pink translucent lipstick and admired herself in the mirror, glancing at the picture taken of her five years earlier, taped on the mirror by Henry. Her long hair in a chignon, fifteen pounds heavier, wearing a dowdy dress, she looked matronly.
        She was amazed at the transformation her friendship with Clint accomplished. She was glowing, appearing years younger, even to her own critical eye. Of course the slimmer figure and more flattering hairstyle didn’t hurt. But she knew Clint’s attention had much to do with her reinvention.
        “Come tonight for a celebratory dinner. I’m barbecuing. We’re halfway with the play. Uncorking the champagne at 6,” was the message on her answering machine this morning.

For the past ten days she had spent every day working with Clint on his play. They sat around talking, arguing, reciting, writing, crossing out, erasing, sitting with nothing to say and then interrupting each other constantly. The creative process.

        Clint wrote the words and Nina recited them. She encouraged him with every look, every word. The supportive environment they created was healing…for her, too. She couldn’t stop smiling, even the man at the grocery store noticed.
         They were together night and day, finding excuses to stay for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

“I’m trying a new recipe for French beef stew tonight, won’t you come by?” she asked.

“I’ve got to use up these sausages. I’m grilling them for lunch but there are too many for me alone. Won’t you stay?” he said.

The creation of the play was progressing rapidly and Nina was falling in love with Clint. She didn’t mean to, didn’t want to, but couldn’t help it. Sharing the play with him, something she could never share with Henry, created a bond, a connection she couldn’t deny. He was filling a place in her heart, a spot that had been empty for years.

        “I know, Fran, I know. I’m not in love with him…a little crush maybe. He’s attractive…like…yes, yes…you know. I’m sure he doesn’t feel the same way, we’re just friends. I’m not going to get hurt…how can I? No, no expectations, but…I can’t help it,” she confided to her best friend.
        She took great care getting dressed and applying makeup to look like she wasn’t wearing any. At six o’clock she tucked her lipstick into a small purse and walked out the back door of her house.

****

When he was with Nina, Clint wasn’t shy or uncertain, he forged ahead with his story, writing quickly, waiting to hear her read what he wrote. He was stimulated, not discouraged. The intensity between them was palpable and it was the driving force behind the creation of the play.

        At four o’clock, Clint shaved for the first time in two days and put on aftershave. That stuff always made him feel sexy.
        I’m kissing her tonight.
        He felt strangely nervous, like he was picking up his first date for a dance. But Nina was far from a first date. She was an experienced woman. He smiled. Making love to a much younger woman could be a drag.
        Older women knew more, he figured. They knew their own bodies and knew his body, too. Or they should! The idea made his pulse quicken. It would be his first time making love to a woman so much older than he, still, it excited him.
        “Okay, Dan. I get it. I know how old she is, so what? She acts like she’s thirty…and she’s built. Yeah. I know. Look I only told you because you bugged me, so shut up, okay? Have you ever had an older woman? Then how do you know?”
        He best friend was snide…implying Nina was hard up. But someone who looked like her…acted like her…could never be hard up. He wasn’t sure she would sleep with him, but he was hoping. He had a crush on her from the first night they met. Working with her every day made keeping his hands to himself almost impossible. The strain…if he didn’t have the play to distract him…well, this would have happened a while ago…if she was willing.
        “No, Joanne, look, I’m not a baby, just your baby brother. Yes. No. The intensity is amazing…she is amazing. You’d love her. You don’t need to tell me…I know what I’m…let me finish a sentence…Joanne? Calm down. I’m not getting married, I’m making her dinner. That’s right. Don’t ask me that…it’s none of your business. I know…I love you, too. Bye.”
        Clint put a short sleeve button down shirt over his broad shoulders while thinking about her. When they were together, he drank in Nina’s support, gulping it down as fast as she could pour it out. He knew she captured a small piece of his heart…the only piece left undamaged by his divorce, though he wouldn’t admit it to his friend or his sister.

He thought he saw a twinkle in her eye once or twice but he wasn’t sure. Was it there because he wanted it to be or was it real? Their chemistry was real. He felt it like a bolt of lightning every time he was with her, standing next to her, sitting on the sofa together, thighs brushing…and tonight he was going to find out if this fantasy of his could become real.

(to be continued next Tuesday)

****

A little bit about Sunny Days, Moonlit Nights 

Do you have someone in your past you would like to reconnect with?  Caroline Davis White wasn't looking for Mickey, now Mike Foster, her childhood crush, she was fleeing her philandering husband, seeking peace and quiet, time to reflect on changing her life. But there was Mike, saving her from a mishap...again, bigger than life and even more handsome. 

A well-known artist, Sunny thought she could escape, disappear back to the cabin where she spent her summers as a child. But she was wrong. Her husband refused to let her go. There hadn't been a divorce in Brad White's family...ever! And he wasn't about to start breaking the tradition now.  Could Caroline shake him loose and what about Mike? Where did he fit into her life?

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