ASCII Frankenstein Monster

ASCII Frankenstein Monster (Can't Leave Well Enough Alone Version - Advanced Text Formatting)

ASCII Frankenstein Monster (Original Version - Basic Text Formatting)

© Copyright 2009 Christopher V. DeRobertis. All rights reserved.

Writing to Dissolve

I'm tossing and turning in bed.
Can't get comfortable.

Trying to quiet a restless mind.
But there's no off switch.

Outside it's raining, again; steadily.
On the inside, too (of me).

The darkness is a mental lens,
Through which each thought becomes a scene.
                                        (Becomes a seen.)

Where's the Sandman when you need him most?
A grain or two would surely do.
Maybe he stayed home due to rain.

Adjusting pillows for the hundredth time.
There's no fit to this feathery puzzle.

Keep checking the clock,
As if reminding myself how late it (still) is will suddenly induce slumber.
It doesn't.
It never does.
Time marches on,
       and I'm awake to see it go by.

I decide to crawl into the pages of a notebook,
And write until I see
       a parade of words
              dissolve
                     behind
                            closing eyes…

© Copyright 2009 Christopher V. DeRobertis. All rights reserved.

Today's Tendril...

Discontent in others doesn't worry me. We all experience discontent, in varying degrees of severity and duration, at various points in our lives. Simply put, discontent is part of human nature. It happens.

What worries me are those that cross the line from run-of-the-mill discontent to focused, targeted discontent, because they're just one step away from disgruntled — and dangerous.

© Copyright 2009 Christopher V. DeRobertis. All rights reserved.

Today's Tendril...

    An acquaintance once said to me, "I never had a dream I didn't like."

    I replied, "Really? What about nightmares?"

    The disbelief in my voice and on my face was obvious, because he returned proudly, and quite matter-of-factly, "I never have nightmares."

    "How sad for you," I said. Then I turned and walked away, wondering about a life devoid of nightmares and how empty that must be.

© Copyright 2009 Christopher V. DeRobertis. All rights reserved.

This text composition is a work of fiction. Names, places, institutions, events, incidents, characters, persons, locations, and/or organizations either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Full Creative Writing Disclaimer.

Fallen (Blue Serenity)

 

About

Leaves, ice, and nightlight, all colored by the imagination.

Tranquility found in the solitude beneath the moonbeams of a cold winter night.

© Copyright 2009 Christopher V. DeRobertis. All rights reserved.

Today's Tendril...

The snow drifts of memory block the path ahead, and the way home has blown away with the passing of the clouds — and the closing of the mind.

© Copyright 2009 Christopher V. DeRobertis. All rights reserved.

Today's Tendril...

Thankful: When you've been pushed to the edge, teetering on it, glimpsing the black void below, and then, out of nowhere, a mighty gust of wind comes along and blows you back to safety. Some call this chance. Others call it luck. I prefer to call it the breath of God.

Dedicated to my Notebook Brother.

© Copyright 2009 Christopher V. DeRobertis. All rights reserved.

Today's Tendril...

Ever have one of those days when you feel like you're walking through mud, with an agitated monkey on your back, a black cloud above your head, sand in your eyes, and dumbbells for hands? Yeah, me, too.

© Copyright 2009 Christopher V. DeRobertis. All rights reserved.

An Afternoon at the Lake

Sitting on a beach chair,
  by a modest lake,
    on a seasonably mild summer day,
      writing this…

Clouds slowly spread like vines,
  growing across the powder-blue sky.

Ripples on the water –
  concentric circles of happiness,
    emanating from so many points of splashiness.

In the sand, all around me
—surrounding me—
  lines,
    and footprints,
      and dunes in miniature.

Bodies of all shapes,
  and sizes,
    and colors,
      and ages,
        and degrees of swimsuit coverage,
          mill about,
            with unseen purpose,
              like weekend ants.

A circling hawk.
  Speeding sparrows.
    A lone crow perched on the longest limb of a dead tree,
      on the opposite shore,
        surveys (stoically) the peculiar little wet things
          romping about in the dark blue expanse below.

Something hornet-like hovers in place for a few moments,
  a few inches above one particular patch of sand,
    then zips away,
      then returns,
        and repeats the cycle
          about a dozen times.

Now and then a cool breeze caresses and cools the sun bathers,
  while the water lilies shiver and chuckle in place.

Paperback books pepper the sandscape.
  Some are held in laps, like precious little things.
    Others hug them like teddy bears,
      while Zzz-Zzzs dissolve above their heads.
        And there are those lost in the pages of the moment,
          wondering what the next turn will bring.

A continuous mix of voices rises and falls,
  constantly stirring the conversation stew.
    Bits and pieces of daily lives arrive out context to my ears,
      becoming the characters and stories in my mind.

And what must they think of me?
    The sunglassed man in a beach chair,
        with paper and pen,
          writing intermittently (though intently),
            with a wry smile.

© Copyright 2009 Christopher V. DeRobertis. All rights reserved.

Self Portrait (Abstract)

© Copyright 2009 Christopher V. DeRobertis. All rights reserved.