Things That Go Bump in the Night
Zero One Fifty-one, that’s what the clock shows. I am still gasping for air and shivering from the cold air that is blowing across even colder sweat. I’m afraid to close my eyes again. A nightmare of being in a cave with an unknown, unseen gas causing me to gulp even more of the poisonous substance as the world fades to black. It is a familiar dream, I have yet to figure what triggers it, perhaps it is my impending session with anesthesia. Me ...and anesthesia have never gotten along. I have often tried to interpret the dream but that usually causes even more vivid dreams of being crushed, either in a cave-in or under a destroyed building unable to breathe. I’m always alone in these dreams, much like in life. I just noticed my throbbing right hand and skinned knuckles; sometimes while sleeping I hit something…hard. After the dream, I always wonder what I’m fighting for, why I don’t give up.
Questions without answers, too much time to think, maybe that’s why I don’t like to sleep, maybe that’s why I multi-task to keep my mind on other things; maybe, maybe, maybe. Time to meditate on the blackness and let it envelop me…temporarily, for now.

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Love’s Paradox
He’d led a life that many would envy. He’d traveled the world, served his Country, all to prove himself worthy of being loved. Over the years he’d built up an image of his lover in his mind, this image had kept him going. He had been with many women hoping to find one the one he had lost through his own stupidity so many years before, but these liaisons all failed. Gradually over the years he became hardened to emotions preferring the fantasy in his mind to th...e reality.
Late in life he suffered some physical problems and was forced to quit his adrenaline filled way of life. He became more isolated and introspective, but he was always dreaming of that special lady. Over the years he became acquainted with a few possibilities but they were committed to someone else. He lived by a strict code of conduct and part of that code was never to come between a husband and a wife. He wasn’t content alone but he was at peace. By isolating himself from the world at large he was able to continue his existence. He built his walls tall and strong, believing that they would never crumble or be penetrated.
He’d known her for almost two decades but she’d been one of those that even though he was interested he had labeled her off limits due to her marital status. He’d found her easy to talk to and they had a lot in common, but he also knew she was way out of his class. She was one of those classic beauties who turned men’s heads where ever she went. They had infrequently run into each other over the years and she had always taken his breath away, but he had always suppressed his feelings and remained outwardly stolid.
He had prepared himself to quietly depart this mortal coil alone, leaving behind no progeny, a few friends, and some family. He was in no hurry to die for he was still hopeful that one day he might discover true love. Then they ran into each other again, but this time was different; she was no longer in a committed relationship. His heart lept, but he still kept his stolid composure. She had become his paradigm of the ideal woman. Gradually over the months and years, she helped him open up his walls until they had finally freed him to speak openly about his feelings. She acknowledged that the feelings were reciprocated. They made plans, both had a lot of baggage that needed to be cast aside.
He became addicted to her. He could sit for hours just listening, and watching her. Then she disappeared leaving a cryptic message, “I could no longer be your friend. I love you”.
He sat there staring at the message unable to fathom life without her. Ten words destroyed his world, demolished his dreams, and took away his hope. He no longer could see a purpose in life. He knew he would continue to exist, but there would be no joy. His only hope was that she was happy.
He existed for love, but in the end, it always eluded him.

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I have 99 poems posted at Author's Den. I am thinking of publishing some of them, about 50 as a chap book with notes as to why they were written and what I was thinking. Please drop by Author's Den and read them then return here and post your five favorites. Thank you, I would appreciate it.…

Poetry written by R. Steven Reynolds

The Things That Go Through My Mind

The days are short and the nights endless. I know not the date or day. Is this the descent into madness that others have written about? The voices come to me in the night, some familiar some unknown. The dreams often awake me, causing me to start another day and then the fatigue overtakes me and I start another short or will it be a long night. For years I was at peace and alone, and then I let down my barriers. I believed once again in that... elusive love.
Once again, I was disappointed but this time there was more. Despair took a hold of my heart. I had thought that my years of rejection and loneliness had inured my heart from further harm, but I was wrong. I had opened myself up wider and deeper than ever before. Secrets, dreams, thoughts and fears, I had shared them all. I had been brutally honest. I communicated everything, so her unexplained disappearance started a crumbling of my soul that spread to my very foundation and as I crumbled so did the world around me.
Forces of evil, forces that I had spent a lifetime fighting attacked my way of life. People became irrational, rabid animals concerned about only petty things, only themselves and the current moment. They have become blind to the past and to the future, but am I any better?

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Freedom's Fireworks, The crowd sees the pretty colored rockets in the night <span style=

The Playground of Life

Life is like the playground
The carousel goes round and round
The wooden horses go up and down...
Constantly moving never gaining ground.
The prize a shining ring of gold
Out of reach except for the bold
A tempting illusion of love untold
That tarnishes when you grab hold

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Winter (Response to Taylor Trenton's Challenge), Pieces of white crystalline lace drifting down <FONT

My message for the New Year.

It’s said that only two things are certain, death and taxes. I learned about death early from my pet goldfish to my four-legged friends. I have noticed that the subject of death today for the youn…

I keep forgetting to link this to my blog.

Like many men in their youth, my thoughts revolved around fishing. I read everything I could on the subject. I perused all the magazines, studying the various techniques. I had a little luck and ca…

I'm considering publishing a small book of my poetry and I'm interested in finding out: How many people would be interested? Which poems are your favorites? What format would you consider purchasing (printed or e-book)?

For a detailed list of the poems -…


There he is in repose on his bier
Now it is the time for all to fear
To live he had to spread his seed...
In places where there was a need
Requiring blood, sweat and tears
Without that he just disappears
But too few were willing to give
To give in order for him to live
Selfishly saying never me not I
The I’s persisted so it’s now bye
Too soon the lamenting will begin
Because we will all be slaves again
Freedom isn't and was never free
Try thinking of us or we not I or me

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What was...
What Is...
Will Be!
What will be;...
Are Dreams!

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Here is an exercise in alliteration (and lexicography).


Pugnacious personable prophets preaching peril ...
Paid party pundits promoting pandemonium
Professional prostitute pawns preying on people
Pathetic patricians parting paupers from pennies
Paunchy preening parasites posing for press pictures
Puppet peacocks performing polemic productions
Prevaricators polluting public polling places
Phony parliamentarians plundering pockets
Promisors pursuing personal prosperity
Pimps pretending piousness practicing perjury

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Occasionally here on FB I post or link to one of my poems. I never know who reads them all I get is a counter so I know very few bother. One of the reasons I have basically quit writing poetry is because it seems very few read, appreciate, or even critique it.

For those of you who have read the book I am interested in some feedback Questions, or comments either are welcome.

R. Steven Reynolds - Ghost Ranger updated their profile picture.
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