Poetry · Writing

Raider

The thrill of the hunt bites

the heart and never lets go. Bleed

down the forest and disrupt

tranquility. Bundle of roses for the beauty

and a bow for the hunter. Two breathes

before onyx eyes and the 60’s forest dissolves

on your tongue and your shaky palms dive

into your own life festering on the rooted earth-

you’ll see the great adventure.

 

Fiction · Writing

Trainer Orange Ep. 13

The bundled group of trainers by the exit halted and stared at Max and Franklin. Max walked closer to Franklin,

“Who are you? I’ve never seen you before at a contest, gym, or ever. Is a rookie calling me out?”

Max’s olive eyes peered down into Franklin’s and then down at his clutched fist.

“Are you angry kid? What is your name?”

“I’m Franklin, and I am going to win this tournament.” Max took a step back and started to walk away, “I hope we get the chance to battle Frank. I’d love to be the one to send you home and a little advice, Frank, shouldn’t pick on the pros.”

Max walked towards another group of trainers and blended in. The large group at the exit separated.

“Hey, Franklin, right?” A young lass extended her hand, “I’m Vanessa and this is my brother and sister Tyler and Daisy.”

“Yeah i’m Franklin, it’s nice to meet you guys,” Franklin said reaching for her hand.

“This is your first time here right? I’ve never seen you before and I know most of the trainers here from other tournaments and contests. It’s okay, this is also Tyler’s and Daisy’s first as well.”

“Yeah its my first tournament. I just caught my first Pokemon yesterday.”

“Wow! Can we see it,” Daisy said as she held a Pokeball in her hand.

Franklin stared at the tiles, “I… don’t have her with me. She is in the Pokemon center.”

Vanessa put her hand on Franklin’s shoulder, “Hey, its okay Daisy don’t make that face. I came over here to say thank you. Max is not a terrible guy but he picks on the newbies. Hey, Tyler and Daisy, why don’t you show Franklin your first Pokemon.”

Poetry · Writing

I know you had a busy day but

We’ve been here before. The same

culdesac were your grandparents lived.

We held hands at there funerals and sang

Tiny Dancer. It was their song. Now its our

song. Whisper into my ear that you’ll hold me

closer. Dance on the pavement and count the head-

lights on highway. I’ll be your Tiny dancer and will live

here

at

your

grand-

parents

home until the lights go out.

Fiction · Writing

Trainer Orange Ep. 12

“In one hour, the pairings will begin and the tournament will begin! Stay tuned participants,” Ivy’s assistant said over the intercom.

The lobby was filled with trainers.  Cold chills exited from the core of the lobby. Silence passes over like Pidgeys in the sky. A small group of trainers huddled around in a tight circle.

“Thanks for comings boys and girls and I enjoy that there are so many hopeful you faces here. You can go home now. This tournament is mine to win, I’m Psychic Max, the best trainer on this island.”

Whispers from the crowd carried over, “I’ve heard of Max, he already beat Senta. I’ve heard his Kadabra is a tough one.” “Wow he is that Max? Maybe we should drop out.” The two boys talking walked out of the lobby heads hanging low.

Max continued his rant, “Oh you silly trainers. This is for professionals only, your just wasting your time here. Save yourself the time and energy and leave, enjoy the beautiful island and enjoy watching me, battle from the stands.”

Others trainers had a similar conversation and began heading towards the exit. Franklin watched Max drive others towards quitting. Max had short blonde hair and purple glasses hanging from his black tee-shirt.

“What are you looking at, kid,” Max said. Max stood arms length firm with fire in his eyes. “What are you looking at?”

Franklin looked at all the trainers, like himself, wanting to quit. Franklin’s fist balled, “Looking at you Max. Watching you run your mouth before I get to take you out of this tournament.”

Poetry · Writing

Brother Nature

I’ve hugged the ocean before.

Being swept away into the unknown

bearing nothing but the bear minimum.

I brought a camera.

No one knows what you look like

under your big blues

beating lashes under fore waves before beating hearts.

I caught you smiling:

have it wash on a shore

in between the sand

me and blue smiling back

to you.

Fiction · Writing

Trainer Orange Ep. 11

“Okay, Franklin, i’ll run you through the basics,”  Ivy’s assistant said. A tall woman wore a similar professors coat, long brown hair, and a Pokeball necklace with jade earrings.

“First thing you need to know about battle, each Pokemon has there own attacks and abilities. They won’t act unless you know them and call them out. Here, i’ll show you.”

The assistant took a blue Pokeball out from her satchel and threw it out onto the battle arena, “go Poliwhirl!” Poliwhirl erupted from the ball and stood in front of the assistant. Poliwhirl was an aqua blue with full eyes and a white belly with a thin black swirl.

The arena was empty as she gave her instructions, thousand of seats, idle. The lack of people drew the eyes of Franklin as he gazed around.

“Franklin? Hey, Franklin, stay with me. Poliwhirl is a water type Pokemon. They are popular here on the Islands. Types of Pokemon depend on the geographic settings, an Island more water Pokemon, in the forest bug and grass type Pokemon, and in the mountains you will find rock and ground type Pokemon. Each type of Pokemon has strengths and weaknesses depending on type ,this is knowledge of an experienced trainer. For now, i’ll get back to the basics.”

“Knowledge of attacks will come over time so pay attention, study, and you’ll develop with more experience.” The assistant turned away from Franklin and looked towards Poliwhirl, “Poliwhirl, Water Gun!”

Poetry · Writing

Ode to Love

Your all I’ve ever wanted

now and back then.

My mama said I should

write you letters.

We never spoke the same

never speaking.

My mama said I should

write love letters.

I’ll write them now-

babe it’s too late.

She has a kid and

a nice guy.

I’ll write them now-

for me.

Poetry · Writing

Ghost Ship

Blind minds find

shelter

under criticism. Critical

mass solution to blind peers paired

pairing hope and loss.

It wasn’t supposed to blow. Row slow-

ly down towards the solution. Black

sea ~tainted ~drowning

past pairs peeling away

 

until you reach the end.

A greeting sign that reads

“Free yourself”