Word Painter's Blog – September 2014 Archive (8)

Courage

© Vickey Stamps

Half wolf and some other mixture, mangy and nearly dead, the cattle drive boss had found him. He was hungry, half out of his head.

He’d taken him home on his saddle. He’d figured the pup wouldn’t

live through the night; but he’d rescued a real good scrapper who

had the know how to fight.

Ben gave him the name of ‘Courage.’ He still didn’t think he’d stay long.

A trail herds no place…

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OLD SPARKY AND JOE





Cowboy Joe and his old horse

both were now growing old;

They’d rode on many a path

They were curious and bold

But they’d known fun days of yesterday

but it weren’t the same today

Joe sure loved Old Sparky;

“Good friend” you’d hear him say



Old Sparky had been wild,

trained ‘a twisting bronc’ for cowpokes to ride

But old Joe… Continue

SARA SAID ....

(Life and death from the viewpoint of a dog, as barked to her lady-person Vickey Stamps)

Foreword:

It is not quite two in the morning. I am talking to my neighborhood friend. (Just a little barking) My master disagrees and yells “Shut that up, Sara!” He makes more noise then I did. Oh well, he is a people and those kind have to be humored. I say to him “Don’t get yourself in an uproar!” and go back inside my dog apartment. My name is Sara. As you have most likely…

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THE FIDDLER

Vickey Stamps 8/20/09



The old man cradled his violin across and over his heart, the rosined strings

to the bow freshly applied. Now he stepped down as gently as he could upon his arthritic legs, grateful there were only a few steps to the sidewalk. The home was older than he was and he thought perhaps that was enough to say about it.



It was the deep dusk just after sunset and before the dark of true night. He had finished up a brief performance with a… Continue

CHRISTMAS WITH THE ALDER WOOD

© Vickey Stamps 12/4/09…. 9:30 a.m.

It was an old tree and if one were there at the right time and year, it might be seen to tug at its roots, limbering up its limbs and branches in a tall stretch. After all, even a tree such as this one, with its whitish-gray bark, could stand just so long over its many years with stillness. Granted of course were the times when the winds blew upon and against it, when…

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Murmers Of The Heart

© Vickey Stamps 3/4/14

Her parents had wanted her to be a boy child. Obviously that hadn’t happened, so the Matthew they’d decided on... for a Matthew, Sr., had become Mattie instead. They’d grown to love this only child with all their hearts.

She stood now in front of the closet she had shared with her husband all these long years. Two ‘Sunday go to meeting’ shirts hung there that they had indulged in for Mark, at the local mercantile. The rest of the…

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The Slave Ship © Vickey Stamps 8:30 p.m. (3/16/10)

The water was beyond choppy. No small strike and retreat type violent waves, but instead tall strong waves, rising up as if in battle against the huge ship. Within its hull and in its depth sat one soul across from another and row upon row from front to back with only a narrow opening to walk along.…

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THE FOXHOLE

© Vickey Stamps Written, 12/12/09 11: 15 a.m.

It is Christmas Time, thinks the young soldier, not yet out of his teens, as he lies quietly in a shallow foxhole built from desert sand. He remains alert, but is unable to keep his entire thought from traveling to a place called home. He sees the family far away. He can almost smell the ham with its covering of cloves and pineapple slices secured to its surface. He pictures it pulled forth from the oven, steam and aroma…

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