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Tuesday, October 18, 2016

Remembering Halloween-A Poem

Halloween (‘60’s era)
Eve Gaal

Whence we were little goblins-
groovy lithe witches
and rascally cowboys—
nothing wicked mind you,
perchance slightly mischievous-
waiting to run down the street--
giggling from house to house--
proudly shouting trick or treat.

Plans devised for a soulful celebration
powered behind glued on sequins--
the hubris of green felt--- pink ribbons.
Boasting about goals
to fill giant sacs-
we snickered behind our plastic masks--
zooming with super powers-
our hearts charged with wonder.

Beaming at our bounty of sugary fun--
spread like treasure on the breakfast table:
Golden wrapped toffees—
Mr. Goodbars even Bazooka gum.
Black and orange wrapped peanut taffy-
a caramel apple lovingly made by a granny next door-
perhaps a box of Crackerjacks with a small green whistle
you still keep in a drawer-
to remind you of a distant magic--
when shadows cast swirling leaves--
as frolicking ghosts in rustling trees
announced it’s

Hallow’s eve.

Monday, October 10, 2016

Abundant Anniversary

The smoke alarm had to go off on our Anniversary and that’s one of those things that frighten the
collars off our dogs. And while we usually walk together hand in hand with a Chihuahua on each leash, this Columbus day and tenth day of the tenth month under what felt like tropical breezes and warm cloudy skies, I took the short walk around the block myself with Pinky.  (Someone had to change the batteries immediately.)

Pinky takes the lead
Every day, even on a short walk, there are things to see but this time I was duly rewarded with long tall shadows, flowering shrubs and hummingbirds.

The shadows fall
Crossing the street

Do you see the chirpy hummingbird?

The flag in our park
Please ignore the trash on the ground.
Non-locals like to sneak into our park and act like boars.
There's a trash can across from this bench. 

 Join me on this special day by having a seat in our one-acre community park where gratitude flowed from my heart as well as inspiration for a poem for my beloved I had to jot down when I reached our now peaceful home.

Happy Anniversary
Thank you Steve for coming into my life 24 years ago—
the man who changed my life.
The spring in my step when I walk our dogs—
the flowering scent along my path.
Your eyes the morning light—
your smile the California sun.
Thank you for being an angel
when I need spoiling.
Thank you for being disciplined and wise
when I need to grow up.
A warm and wonderful shoulder to cry on when I’m sad—
a solid rock of reassurance and a gift from God--

the one who broke the mold—my Steve.

Nature inspires me. How about you? 

Sunday, October 2, 2016

Tale O' Miniature Tail

Welcome to my universe. I’m a rescue.
Mom says she’s a rescue too.
Dad says-- mom rescued him but I think there’s more to that story.
The main thing is this: We all need humans.
Tall or stinky,
Young or frumpy
Peeps are important.
They all matter.

And man can they can make a difference in your life.
Take this ordinary suburban yard for example:
Every petal and piece of mulch is mine, (even though there’s another rescued dog around here.)
I am fearless and safe back here.
The mailman is on the other side of the house and
the vacuum cleaner never comes outside.
Sunshine follows me throughout the day.
This is my element.

I prowl around and sniff the grass.
Sometimes I'm thorny like a rose. 
The scent of invaders
such as rabbits and squirrels delights me
especially because they know better
 than to stay on our side of the fence.
I can bark,
yelp and even cry.
I can sleep on the lounge chair
pretending I’m queen.
I am Fiona and if you need rescuing--
 find a human today!

Tuesday, September 27, 2016

Photo Blog of The Fifth Commandment

Peter's Denial, Carl Heinrich Bloch (1834-1890 Danish),
 National History Museum, Frederiksborg Castle

Thought I'd share a few photos about my newest short work titled The Fifth Commandment.

Wikipedia-(New Panama City)

Much of my story is a recollection of old Panama in Central America, which touched my heart as a family friendly, peaceful but humble town across from new Panama City which is full of skyscrapers, restaurants and fast cars.

This breathtaking altar has quite a story
 of it's own involving a Welsh pirate.

 Huge bridges, highways and giant expanses of water separate the old from the new and it almost seems like there’s a time warp of a hundred years between the two areas. 

My pictures are from the old section as described by my character, Christina. 

I loved the serenity in the French Plaza
If you like faith-based stories then click here now.

Even my own dishes inspired me....
but most of the story came to me in my dreams.

Have you ever denied someone you loved?

Wednesday, September 21, 2016

Will My Character believe Christina's Story?

    My nervous character, Father Joe, suddenly feels insecure around two well-known and honorable men of the cloth affiliated with the Basilica in Chicago. They arrived on his invitation to deal with a young girl named Christina who could potentially cause trouble. All of it is giving him nightmares! Here's an excerpt taking place as Father Joe picks them up at the station:
From Chapter 10 of The Fifth Commandment
On sale September 24th thru the 30th

 “Hey, how was the trip?” Father Joe started the car. It was a beige Volvo with 259,000 miles on the odometer. 
     “Fine, except we were a bit rushed due to traffic.” Trying to keep their anxious excitement to a minimum, they continued with small talk about the weather and the train amenities. “How about you?  Anything new since last night?”
   He chocked the vision of Jesus on the side of the church to shadows playing with his mind—but later that evening he had a powerful dream. “Not really, but I’m feeling strange about this whole thing. Our little parish can’t handle the publicity. Imagine what would happen if this leaked out?” He turned on the blinkers and turned into the church parking lot. “Don’t you remember what happened in Medugorje?  Thousands flocked to the tiny village….”
     “Yeah, we remember, Joe” Father George interrupted. “I’ve been there.”
     Father Andrew laughed, “Heck people even pay big money on EBAY for granola clusters shaped like Moses holding stone tablets.”
     “I guess I’m just worried about my generous parishioners. I don’t want anyone taking advantage of their kindness,” Father Joe said as he led the way into his office. “Besides, I had a horrible dream last night.”
“You saw St. Peter?” Andrew quipped.
Father George laughed. “No,” Father Joe explained. “It was us in purgatory. Sadly, I think Christina was there too.”
“Oooh, tell us more,” they smiled and followed each other inside.
“I will, but hold on for a second. There’s a lot going on.”
     “Well, to be perfectly honest with you Joe, I’m kind of excited.” Father Andrew said, searching the room for a plug for his tape-recorder. “Don’t worry, this won’t be another Fatima for goodness sake, have some faith. This is probably the most exciting thing to happen in Normal, Illinois. It could be the economic boost this area needs right now.”
     The office lights were off. Father Joe went to the window first, opening the blinds. It was ten minutes after four. Then he stood up, walked back towards the door and turned on the overhead lights before sitting down at his desk.
“Now, tell us about your dream, Joe.” Father Andrew always loved tales of intrigue.
     “Wasn’t she supposed to be here at four?” Father George asked, as he took his place on the foldout chair.

     “Don’t worry, any teenager wanting as much attention as she does will be here.” He shuffled more bulletins and decided to tell them about his dream while waiting. “Drink anyone?” Father Joe needed one, but waited for them to gently decline. He enjoyed their company, but thought they were a wee bit pedantic. The scholars he knew weren’t as serious as these two and all his friends in school drank wine and scotch like giant beluga whales being released from captivity. They were bigger actors than Christina--all a bunch of phonies. Didn’t they see this hoax for what it really was? He took it to be a young girl’s desperate cry for attention. Why did they need to drag this out for almost a week now? Didn’t they have better things to do than hang out in his parish?

Will Father Joe come to believe Christina's unusual story?
Want to hear about his dream?
Then click here to order your copy of The Fifth Commandment today!

Friday, September 9, 2016

A Rescued Pooch Poem

If I Were a Dog
Eve Gaal

If I were a dog
I’d forget about yesterday
and forgive you today.
I’d remind you to cuddle,
implore you to play.
I’d wait all day until you came home
 ‘til you read the mail and put down your phone.
I’d hold you in the highest esteem--
you and me...
other family members--
the greatest of teams.

If I were a dog,
I’d sleep while you’re away,
anticipating your arrival,
ears perked against rivals,
Fiona's in charge
half awake,
I’d probably bark a lot,
worried you were caught-
held in a cage,
next to stinky mongrels filled with rage.
I’d imagine the smell
Of wet matted hair
strangers that tried to care
for unfortunate beasts carrying disease.
In my nightmares,
I’d remember fleas
landing on my fur--
the unforgettable stench of urine everywhere.

If I were a dog,
Pinky's eyes....
I’d lick your face.
Not to taste,
but only to kiss
the person who understood my heart.
The one who saw into my eyes,
had me leaping off the charts.
I’d have to wag my tail to convince you—
throwing myself at your feet for a belly rub--
my love is unconditional and true.
I’m sure you’d beg to agree--

our lives are better rescued me.

Fiona with a rare smile
Pinky wagging

Saturday, September 3, 2016

Lapdog Required--Black Coffee Optional

I thought I'd put a small note here for those who prefer print books. 
Some of you might remember that Penniless Hearts used to have a delightful
blue cover  with a picture of the beach but my publisher has decided to change
even this rather somber one to something that echoes the humor inside.
 Can't wait to see it!

Both novels and most of my poems are available in print format from Amazon or directly through me. I'd say Amazon might be a better deal because they have free shipping when you buy a certain amount of stuff. This week I purchased two regular priced copies of an anthology that contain a couple poems and one of my stories.Even though the book came out almost a year ago, I have to say it's one of my favorite anthologies. Anyway, instead of free shipping, they sent me a tea infuser shaped like a dog as a kind of bonus. Might make a great gift for one of my tea-drinking, cat loving friends.
My poem Homeless Hearts made third place in the PnP Author Anthology titled,
Our Treasured Stories & Poems
I rarely enter contests and even third place is an honor.
Here's the back of the anthology.

I noticed this book doesn't have any reviews yet.
Don't you want to leave the first one?
Congratulations to all the winners!

What's your favorite way to read? Do you prefer a Kindle with a kitten in your lap or a print book with a dog? Vice versa? Coffee? Tea?