Entries Written By JoeCundiff
The Falling Rain
The pitter, the patter the constant clatter the drone of the drowning rain The birds, their banter now silent and somber still safe and serene subdued by the canter of continuous rain My coat uncloaked now hooked and hung on high the drip of endless drops the dripping of the rain The …
Huckleberry Dreams
<One of my favorite things to do while living in Memphis was to drive to Shelby Forest, a magical place north of the city. It was only a short trip but upon entering the towering trees and winding roads, it was worlds away from the chaos of the city, and mystical in its serenity. There I …
Of Pride and Passion
There are games we play and there is passion It is perhaps America’s pastime that merely passes the time until the tumble of Autumn leaves ushers in the rumble of the band the roar of the crowd and that first whistle blast It is more than mere game It is the …
Truth’s Toil
The piercing sounds of truth the subtle sting or voluminous blow rather each or either shall unbridle the burdensome soul Perplexed by one’s own perspective oft hidden well within walls of shimmering armour and the afterglow of self Caste beneath shields and buried still deeper still aligned majestically the curse of perception fueled and funneled …
The First Last Dance – At Last
her life she lived by choice to live humbly within the hills and hollows of the only place ever she called home a life lived long and a long life lived upon the land she labored and the home she made with such love and though life at times was not so kind in kind …
G-Men Pride – We Wear It Still
We came from Across the Tracks and Between the Bridges. Places with names like Springville, Falls Mills, Sedgewood, West Graham and Pine Hill Park. We came from in town and out in the country and we gathered at the Double Gates. Why? To become men. To become G-Men. The day the dream began. Some …
Ali
Like him or not, agree or disagree, his words and his actions made us think, and for that we are better. Greater perhaps.
Sergeant Riley’s Absence
Windswept leaves dance across the Wild Meadow Cemetery in a random swirl and suddenly all is calm. Perhaps the end was that sudden nearly seventy-two years ago when Sergeant Mark Herman Riley breathed his last breath on a battlefield in New Guinea. It was July 1944. Little is known of that fateful day. A letter …
In The Shadows of Angels
Reflections of the MS Weekend Escape – Brian Mason Respite Camp at Smith Mountain Lake In the shadows of angels there is a spirit and that spirit longs to dance. That spirit stirs restlessly within us all. A spirit born in our childhood that ran and played free of care, unaware that the world might …
The List
It had rained earlier and the table top was still wet. Heavy fog held the moisture and warmth in the air but it was a perfect afternoon to sit outside the café and drink my coffee. With the extra napkins, I cleared a spot for my journal and began writing. It seemed odd to …