Layers of brushstrokes and rough edges in one's imagination of a lovely dream where each stroke is a poetic stanza a breath of expression softly released beyond the futon of memory sticks with recycled art seen through the eyes in one's imagination of a lovely dream

...in the faces on the old bark on backroads of memories of musings, doings and lucid dreams of red clay down by the feet of my shadow where Mama now rests surrounded by nature's postcards in the faces on the old bark

Sir Oswald had left the room to see Lord Duckham to his coach, after his Lordship had inspected the new stables and made a very surprising presentation to Jack. So surprising, such a shock that, as Becky pressed against him, he was still wrestling with the problem of how to approach what it was now imperative for him to admit. Then he heard the sounds of the coach pulling away. As the room door began to open, they jumped...

I must have been lonely. I have a distinct memory of sitting in a park, in where I think is Sudbury, Ontario, my back against the trunk of a large tree, listening to Bruce Springsteen. Specifically, I was listening to the end of “I’m on Fire” off Springsteen’s Born in the USA, and marveling at the plaintive high lonesome “woo-hoo-ooo” trailing off, as the narrator of the song expresses his longing for the girl, his desire...

Jack Wetherley walked slowly, morosely, along the front of the new stables. Not since the death of his father six years earlier, had he ever felt so low. Passing the open-gated front of the twenty, as yet, unused stalls, he was asking himself whether his months of intimacy, with Becky, the niece of Sir Oswald Brandling, were about to tear them apart. They had both been aware of the risks they were taking in prolonging the...

The crowd is getting anxious – then the lights begin to dim, and in the spotlight’s capture, they can see – it’s really him! A true iconic rocker – one that everybody knows, with a fanbase he’s collected from a thousand prior shows. The instruments are waking up, as the players take the stage and try to sound the same as when they’re played by Jimmy Page. He saunters to the microphone amidst the cheering fans, and makes a...

For everyone on the Brandling Estate, the three months after their Newmarket triumph became the most chaotic, the most worrying, the most exciting, the most definitive months they would ever know. After Trafalgar’s massive success as a three-year-old, Jack Wetherley, and chief ostler, Alf Winter, took the advice of the local vet, Victor Lazenby, not to risk their champion in the prestigious Epsom Derby. Victor had indicat...

Sophisticated shadow in silhouette seen through the windowless pane dressed in nothing but moonlight draped over the midnight hour pale as a white rose petal clouding the leaf smiling on the flower sophisticated shadow in silhouette

He sits on top of my cupboard just staring into space a layer of dust covering his body a slight smile upon his face. But I tend to think if he were real he'd be out chasing bees eating ants and berries and climbing large pine trees. He'd be swimming in Lake Pend Oreille stealing apples from our trees catching trout in the creeks taking naps whenever he pleased. But his jointed body never moves no one ever plays with him...

I was walking on a forest path one cool autumn evening when I heard a fluttering sound worth investigating. I peeked into a small clearing amazed by what I could see thousands of Monarch butterflies clinging to the trees. Wings of orange and black fluttering in the air amongst the pine tree branches so captivating and rare. I could not believe my eyes such a surprising sight it was thousands of Monarch butterflies then sc...

Now, here they were, as the horses broke their circling and began moving down the course towards the one-mile starting post. They had followed their usual betting ploy but had managed no better than three to one for Trafalgar. Jack noticed that no one wished to divulge how much they had risked. He wondered if the twenty pounds he had wagered had anything to do with the trembling in his chest but knew it was much more than...

The Two Thousand Guineas. At last! Jack Wetherley’s heart pounded, as the eleven horses trotted out onto the course. The bright silks of the jockeys added to the extra colour provided by the glamorous gowns worn by the lady spectators and the maroon, purple and vivid blues of the men’s jackets. The excited buzz of the massed crowds all around them, and the sunlight gifted for this early May festival heightened Jack’s alre...

With sleeves of leaves in nature's vest the winds blow mellow upon the dew as I sit composing silently musing the loveliest of dawn's twilight reminiscing a budding seed to leaf a flower

Maybe when you're alone you think of me, because I was your wife-to-be. Maybe you tried but could not see, that I needed you in my life especially. Maybe time will tell if you were right, that I don't need you in the night. Maybe you don't need me in your life, but you wanted me to be your wife. Maybe I should try to let you go, but I really don't know. Maybe you were all I ever needed, but your love gradually receded. Ma...

With Alf still joyous at his winning wager, he and Jack left the others and headed for the stables to prepare Trafalgar for his next big test. Reaching the stall where their thoroughbred stood. ‘Much cooler and calmer than I am,’ Jack thought. They soon heard the hoofbeats of the horses going out for the second race. Alf checked Trafalgar’s hooves, ensuring the four shoes were firmly in place. Trying to convince himself t...