Skyway 21: The Sadness and the Storm

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Skyway 21: The Sadness and the Storm

Copyright: © 2023 Christopher V. DeRobertis. All rights reserved.

This visual-and-text composition is a work of fiction; of imagination. Names, places, institutions, events, incidents, characters, persons, personas, locations, contexts, scenes, scenarios, symbols, glyphs, iconography, scientific-like elements, medical-like terms, psychological-like conditions, abstractions, imaginary/fake words, backronyms, institutions, organizations, pareidolia, visual literacy, visual interpretation, imagery, and/or random abstractionism either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Full Creative Writing Disclaimer.

A Better Shade of Gray

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Copyright 2018 Christopher V. DeRobertis. All rights reserved.

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

After the Rain, Life (Still)

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Copyright 2018 Christopher V. DeRobertis. All rights reserved.

The Reason in the Rain

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Copyright 2018 Christopher V. DeRobertis. All rights reserved.

Little Orange Monarch

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Copyright 2017 Christopher V. DeRobertis. All rights reserved.

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

Today's Tendril...

A handful of rain is better than a bottle full of lightning.

Copyright 2016 Christopher V. DeRobertis. All rights reserved.

Three Rumination Blocks for Today

	A bird in a cage must eat, drink, sleep, and expel waste. Now and then it moves. Sometimes it speaks. But most of the time, it dreams of flying.

	Too often we wonder, what is the other person thinking? Are they thinking about love? Loss? The meaning of life? Could they be thinking about me thinking about them? What we really should be thinking about is why we're so obsessed with what others are thinking. Aren't the voices in your head enough?

Raindrops are good for plants. Not so much for paper notes written in marker. Unless, of course, you're going for something that's one part dripping candle wax and one part Rorschach ink blot.

Copyright 2016 Christopher V. DeRobertis. All rights reserved.

Today's Tendril...

Sunrise intentions that emanate with super clarity (and positivity) become tears in the rain when a murder of crows turns the tranquil blue sky into an undulating mass of cacophonous black static.

Copyright 2016 Christopher V. DeRobertis. All rights reserved.

After the Rain

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Copyright 2014 Christopher V. DeRobertis. All rights reserved.

The Return

It's that time of year again, spring.

And with it comes the inevitable – the return of the gnats.

Gnats—the irritating specks that swarm about the head and face, and occasionally find their way into the nostrils, eyes, ears, and mouths.

Fact: Swatting gnats does as much good as trying to sidestep raindrops. It just doesn't work.

And no matter how many of them are squashed, or shooed, or swept away in the temporary air currents of flailing arms, their numbers never decrease. E-ver.

As for repellent, well that only keeps the other humans away.

To all those that say gnats are "the worst" at dusk, I ask you this: Is there really a best time for gnats?

Then again, perhaps a cloud of black flecks that silently and slowly work its way toward you, and threatens to swallow you whole, as if you were nothing more than a worm and it a ravenous bird, is "the worst" at dusk.

Copyright 2014 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.

Thinking of April

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Copyright 2014 Christopher V. DeRobertis. All rights reserved.

Three Tendrils for Today

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Copyright 2013 Christopher V. DeRobertis. All rights reserved.

Tweaked 2013.11.04

Today's Tendril...

Rains, west, ungodly.

Flowers fold willingly.

Placid sadness grows.


© Copyright 2013 Christopher V. DeRobertis. All rights reserved.

So Flows

Listening to the rhythms of the rain...

And with each beat,
A little more pain
Marches its way
To a pool
In my mind,
Fed by the rain,
And drowns.

Rain, rain, don't go away,
'Till my pain
Has lost its grey.

© Copyright 2012 Christopher V. DeRobertis. All rights reserved.

Pondered a Pumpkin

On a rain-swept night in late September, in a field farthest from the farm, a plump little pumpkin pondered its fate—

The hour draws nigh and I worry,
What will become of me?

Am I to be the pride of someone's porch,
Or smashed to bits on a sidewalk?

Will the punkin chunkers pick me for my perfect shape,
Or will malcontents on Mischief Night turn me into a weapon?

Will I be carved by a master's hand,
Or maimed by greedy little paws?

Perhaps I'll be the featured pie at dessert,
Or the favorite flavor in a seasonal muffin basket.

Oh, to be the figurehead on a Grand Marshal's float, now that would be great! Or the fiery companion of a headless horseman, whose monologue climaxes with:

"Hear me, costumed fools, the witching hour has begun, and you must answer for your depravity, your reverie, and your mockery of All Hallows' Evening. Know this, my trembling little meat sacks, I shall cleave you with great fanfare and draw your spirits into the groaning abyss of my fleshless body. Aha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-haaaa!"

Yes, what a wonderful moment that would be.

But one thing that I try not to consider, though it's with me always, like a demon that cannot be exorcised, is this: If no one wants me, then what thoughts will consume me as I slowly rot in a muddy field?

 

About

This work is part of the Leftover Candy collection, which is a set of works inspired by the 2011 Halloween season.

© Copyright 2011 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.

Repine

      It was an unusually warm and dry Fall, and the scarecrow in the cornfield was sweating up a storm.

      "What I wouldn't give for a little rain, or a cool breeze, or even a cold rolling fog," said the scarecrow in a sad, soft voice.

      "My straw is baked and brittle, my colorful patches are cracked and dull, and my hat is covered with stalagmites of crow pooh.

      "Rain, oh, rain, why have you forsaken me? WHY???"

      A heartbeat later, the clear blue sky turned a deep green-gray, angry anvil clouds appeared out of thin air, and a bellowing twister, as black as coal with tendrils of lightning, touched down...right on top of the scarecrow.

      After a few moments of swirling fury, the storm streaked into the horizon, and disappeared.

      As tranquil blue reclaimed the sky, a murder of crows surveyed the cornfield for damage.

      To their surprise, the only damage that could be seen was a small, bare patch of earth where the scarecrow had been staked.

      The End

© Copyright 2011 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.

Today's Tendril...

Sin is like rain.

Sometimes it's a slow, steady drizzle.

Sometimes it's a raging downpour.

Sometimes, well, sometimes it's only "cloudy with a chance."

And that's the kind of rain that requires the most vigilance — the kind that looms and threatens.

© Copyright 2011 Christopher V. DeRobertis. All rights reserved.

The Golden Ratio (ASCII Face)

 

Tendrils

There are times when the path from idea to artwork takes you down rat holes, tumbling through rabbit holes, and into black holes.

 

The artist and the scientist know too well the meaning of begat.

 

Sure, an umbrella keeps the rain off of you, but what does it matter when you choose to play in the rain?

 

Simplicity is a tadpole that becomes a frog (or a toad).

 

Simplicity is a rat hole, if you let it.

 

For artists, engineers, and scientists alike, keeping it simple is easier said than done.

 

If balance and equilibrium were states of perfection, then we'd never know the wonders of frost or the jewels of dew.

 

Complexity is a Frankenstein stitched from the fabric of simplicity.

 

Chasing the possibilities can be a lot like chasing windmills.

 

At some point you have to accept that you're stuck in the quagmire of choice, especially when you're reaching for the clouds.

 

It's amazing how this, 8^), can cause so much consternation.

 

Soul Star (Surviving the Darkness)

 

About

What started out as a simple ASCII image (complete with tagline) turned into a tree with many branches.

The seed that became the tree:



© Copyright 2010 Christopher V. DeRobertis. All rights reserved.

Tension in the Toy Box

    Tension in the toy box between the scarecrow and the teddy bear had been mounting since mid September. This always seemed to happen in the weeks leading up to Halloween.

    The teddy bear with his happy-go-lucky attitude, furry friendliness, and always-on smile, were at odds with the scarecrow's surly demeanor, melancholy manner, and perpetual frown.

    Every toy box denizen knew that these two would fight at the drop of a hat, so it was best to steer clear of them whenever (and however) possible.

    Unfortunately, the toy box tension came to a head one rainy afternoon in late October, at a time and in a place that no one could avoid: The mandatory toy box "town meeting" (on the old checkerboard at the center of the box); the one place where all toys gathered on a regular basis to give their who-played-with-me peer reports.

    Out-of-the-blue, and for no apparent reason, the scarecrow turned to the teddy bear and said, rather harshly, "It's all just cupcakes and creampuffs to you, isn't it, Mr. Oh-so-soft-and-cuddly!"

    The collective gasp was instantaneous; the chilling silence that followed was unsettling.

    A dark umbrella of anticipation covered them all, waiting to see how the kindly teddy bear would react to this senseless provocation.

    After a few long moments in eternity, it finally came.

    "That may be true," said the smiling teddy bear, "but at least I don't have a stick up my ass."

    And as all eyes shifted back to the scarecrow, who was now in a state of stunned silence, the action figure at the back of the box shouted, "Amen to that, brother!"

    The toy box erupted with tremendous laughter, except for the scarecrow, who just sulked — on his stick.

    The End

© 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.

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.