Beautiful Vieques PR

Beautiful Vieques PR

Thursday, March 31, 2011

Cold Flame

So cold.
Flames fill the night,
Yet I am so cold.

Sound of emergency
Screaming in the distance
Eager to end inferno,
As I wait in the cold

Remembering without regret.
State of shock?
Cold as ice,

Knowing matches
Ended abuse.
Burning home
That held no warmth

Opinions denied
By anger so cold..

Heroes rush to save him,
But too late
Life taken
Ending in ashes
Setting me free,

Yet I am so cold.

G.K.Bostic - 2011

Wednesday, March 30, 2011


Written for Carry on Tuesday

I see it in the mirror,
I see it in my face,
The calendar has carved
The passing of my days.

Reflected in the mirror
Are signs of years gone by,
But there behind reflection
A young girl lives inside.

I see it in the mirror
I see it in my eyes
A wisdom gained by trials
And experience and time.

I see it in the mirror
I see it in the lines
The marks of love and joy
That smiles have left behind.

I see it in the mirror
I see it in my face
The days and years gone by
A precious gift of grace.

G.K. Bostic - 2011

Wednesday, March 23, 2011


The Wednesday Poetry Prompt at Poetic Asides this week is to write a poem about spring. I am so anxious for it's arrival (not just on the calendar, but in the weather) that this is what I came up with.

Too long the icy grip of winter’s hand
Has held us prisoner with icy palm,
But soon the vernal equinox will free
Us from extended housebound discontent.

The charm of springtime calls us out to play,
To leave behind our manacles of fur,
And gone will be the blinding white of snow
Replaced by green and lavender and rose.

We’ll feast our eyes upon the gifts of spring,
Give thanks for life that’s been reborn again,
Let warmth of sun erase frostbitten minds
Awakening imagination’s songs.

Monday, March 21, 2011


Written for Poetry Potluck

lies cutting like knives
trust bleeds away marriage vows
heart and breath taken

to hard to forgive
death blow to relationship
love torn asunder

one careless mistake
lives undone by deception
splitting families

(...not autobiographical :)

Sunday, March 20, 2011

Her Story

This week's prompt for Carry on Tuesday:
asks us to use the first words from the final paragraph of
Crime And Punishment by Fyodor Dostoyevsky

"But that is the beginning of a new story"

Her story told
of a love so strong..
She reached, and he was gone.
No explanation
to fill the blanks..
just emptiness
where once he dwelt.

Heavy steps
trod through empty rooms,
gone their dance,
in a trance
of mystery,
"Where is he?"

Gentle knock upon the door..
mystery no more
as Uniformed face
can't hide demise.

Veil of gloom
hiding track of tears
through the years,
through the void..

Until his spirit
set her free from agony,
crossing threshold
to live again
looking in
eyes of a friend...

But that is the beginning
of a new story..

Friday, March 18, 2011

She Might Surprise You.....

(This is my first attempt at flash fiction.)

I was sitting on my front porch in my favorite rocker. What a beautiful spring day it was. This pleasant change brought a lovely warm breeze and the sound of birds singing sweetly, a sound I’d been waiting to hear all through those cold winter months. So I was just rocking, lost in memories of so many days that Martin and I had spent in this very spot enjoying our time together. For fifty-two years we lived and loved right here in this house until the angels took him away last year. I guess his ticker was just worn out. Oh but we had a good life together…

My thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a noisy commotion coming from the house next door. Such yelling and screaming like you wouldn’t believe. Well, I’m not one to eavesdrop, but there was no effort needed to hear what these two were saying to each other, and let me tell you, it wasn’t pretty!

The young couple had just moved in recently, and what with the bad weather and all, we hadn’t really had a chance to get to know each other so I hesitated to interfere. I remember when I took that pie over and met the Missus the day after they moved in, she seemed real sweet. She couldn’t have been more than about five feet tall, just a little bitty girl maybe in her early twenties. I hadn’t met the husband, but through the window I’d seen he was a pretty big guy….a good looking young man at that.

But listening to all that yelling, I was definitely getting the impression he might have kind of a mean streak. They had opened the windows to enjoy the breeze so I heard it all. He was yelling something about her doing as she was told. Humph! Well, as far as I understood, he was her husband, not her father…..but it sure did sound like he thought he was the lord and master.

I could hear her crying then, and she sort of yelled something back at him. It wasn’t a very loud yell, ‘cause I couldn’t hear what she said, but I sure heard what happened next. He must have given her a whack. It was loud enough that I heard it all the way out to where I was sitting. And worse than that, there was a crash that scared me right out of my rocker!

Well, I might be seventy-five years old, and I maybe move pretty slow most of the time these days, but I’m pretty sure I was going through their front door in seconds after hearing that little gal go crashing to the floor.

The poor child hadn’t even gotten up off of the kitchen floor; she was crumpled there with him standing over her. Then he heard me. Well, I saw his face go from menacing to shocked in a heartbeat. Yeah, he wasn’t expecting a little old lady to witness what a brute he was, and sure wasn’t expecting what happened next.

I grabbed the first thing I came to when I charged into the kitchen. There just happened to be a big old frying pan sitting there on the counter as fate would have it. I guess the Good Lord above must’ve given me a little extra speed and a little extra strength that day, ‘cause I started swinging that pan, and he’s was backing away as fast as he could and yelling all the while. He was screaming things like, “Get outta here. Are you crazy? Leave me alone you crazy old lady!” He yelled the whole way out of his house and into his car. I could hear him still yelling as I stood in the driveway and watched him screech out of the drive and down the road.

Well, as you might imagine, I was pretty tired after that, but that sweet little gal, her name was Carol, helped me back into the house. After she got me some water and put a cold cloth on the side of her face, we talked awhile, and she finally agreed to call the police and report what happened.

I wasn’t sure what would happen after that, and I wasn’t sure what people might think of me charging into somebody else’s house like that, but if there’s one thing I won’t stand for it’s a bully picking on somebody smaller or weaker than them!

Oh, and Carol and I did become good friends in the months that followed. She’s almost like one of my own. And she got rid of that bum too! I didn’t think I’d see him again, but last week at the grocery store, I glanced back and he’d just come up behind me in the check-out line. I saw the surprise in his eyes when he recognized me, and I couldn’t help myself…..maybe the devil made me do it….but I just sort of made a sudden move toward him. Well, would you believe, he left his cart full of groceries right there and took off. I couldn’t help but chuckle as I watched him dash to his car.

Tuesday, March 15, 2011


Food in abundance
no more in ravaged Japan
razed by tsunami

g.k.bostic - 3/15/11

Sunday, March 13, 2011

Compassionate Counselor

Written for Writer's Island Prompt #11: Tribute

You listen,
but so much more.
You hear
without judgement.
You're open,
you care.

To the weak
you give strength.
To the frightened
you give courage.
To the lost
you give a compass..

You don't give pills
to mask the pain.
You don't dictate
the path to take.
You do not judge...
you counsel.

You are a therapist
because you care.

G.K.Bostic - 3/13/11

If I had...

This week's Carry on Tuesday prompt is to use the first line of a song by Clifford T Ward, "I could be a millionaire if I had the money" My little poem is as opposite as imaginable from the subject of the song. ;)

I could be a millionaire

If I had the money.

I could feed a million bears

If I had the honey.

I could get a lovely tan

If the sky was sunny.

I could be a circus clown

If I knew how to be funny.

But since there is no money,

I'll be rich in other ways,

And since I have no honey,

Bears will hunt throughout the day.

And since the skies aren't sunny,

I'll grab tanner from the shelf,

And since I'm not so funny,

I'll write rhymes to cheer myself!

Monday, March 7, 2011

Behind the Mask

For One Stop Poetry - A Triolet

What lies behind the lovely mask you wear?

You're broken, torn asunder, filled with pain?

You're angry? Are you you care?

What lies behind the lovely mask you wear?

You bear a heavy burden you can't share?

In chains of thought you're bound where madness reigns..

What lies behind the lovely mask you wear?

You're broken, torn asunder, filled with pain.....


There Was a Moment....

For Writer's Island Prompt #10 for 2011: Secret

There was a moment in my life
When the secret was told
And I was taken
From all that I knew.

Falling into a pit of loneliness,
Visions of terror spinning round my mind
Panic tapping at the door of sanity
I was lost.

In that moment I found sanctuary
In your care.
You believed
And in your believing
I began to heal.

Quiet moments; quiet voices
Gentle comfort slowly changed
Nights of despair
Into hope for bright tomorrows.

Perhaps in time my silenced spirit
Would emerge and sing once more
Because you gave me refuge in trust.
Did I ever thank you?

Sunday, March 6, 2011

So Long Ago

For Carry on Tuesday Prompt
from the last line of The Glass Menagerie:
"And that is how I remember them."

Days of childhood
little girl lost,
robbed by death,
yet safe and cherished,
by special love
in those eary years...

....and that is how I remember them.

Later childhood,
another place
family fitting
mold of the times..
days of normalcy...
school and play and fun

....yes, that is how I remember them.

Adolescence changes
secrets and shame
family never
to be the same
days of loneliness
unanswered prayers...

....for that is how I remember them.

Days as a victim
torture in the night
unable to escape
no rescue in sight
Days of living lost and alone...

.....and that is how I remember them.

g.k.bostic - 3/6/11

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

Beyond the Clouds

One Stop Poetry

As clouds above yield dreary days below
While high above the sunlight fills the sky
So just beyond the stormy clouds we fly
To places never seen our spirits go.

The brilliance of your love thou doth bestow
It carries passion's pleasures on a sigh
That speaks of secret answers owning why
The love that binds our hearts doth overflow.

Gone forever fear of hearts rejected,
For to lose such love would be a wretched curse,
So feel the heavenly rays from clouds reflected,
And drown me in your love, my heart immerse;
Two souls shall touch once more with warmth expected
And evoke the beauty of the universe.