THE SAND POET

December 14th, 2014 by George Martorano

The Sand Poet

The candles light, moved its flame from side to side as they spoke. The two attractive people had just become intense lovers just a short time ago. Their meeting occurred at a warm spot, actually, a small town near a vast desert somewhere in southeastern California, named Cadiz. She had driven there mostly crying, in fact, tears were rolling down her cheeks when Tom approached her.

“Bad day?” was all he addressed, then sitting across from her. Kelly wore a light gray dress that day. Her blond hair passed her shoulders and with one hand wiping the tears from her eyes as the other held a cool glass of scotch, many scotches…..
Tom looked around the room a couple of times, then reached over for one of her empty glasses of melting ice.

“I’m crying and don’t give a damn,” she finally said as she pushed back a lock of her hair. Tom let an ice cube bounce around in his mouth, then popped it back into the glass…..”Well, you sat here, say something,” she spoke but her voice did not rise. “What can I say when you’re hurting, it was a man, wasn’t it?” “Yes, you’re all no good.” She reached over and poured some of her drink into his, “since you’re not buying, here.” “I think you should eat something.”

“What?”

“Your stomach needs food not booze,” Tom said pointing to her mid-section. He also looked at her shapely legs.

“You like?”

“Yes, I like, but what the fellow did, he did, it’s over. You look fit, you’re not drunk yet, so eat something.”

Kelly didn’t know why, but she didn’t say a word when this attractive stranger ordered food, food for only her. He didn’t drink anymore either, just sat there watching her, speaking now and then about nothing and watched.

“You’re not a nut or something, gonna’ strangle me later,” she said. “You’re pretty and walked into this run down bar. You truly shine more than the rest “.

“Shine?” Kelly looked around the bar, it’s outside patio, some others. Mostly worn out people from worn out walks of life. The owner and bartender was an ex-con, a heavy set woman named May. Kelly had learned from Tom that he lived in a cottage on May’s property.

“What do you do?” Kelly finished her coffee that Tom had made her in his cottage, where they were after leaving the bar. Kelly didn’t mind it, for it was small and very clean. In the new light of his place, Tom’s face was more handsome and fresh, she didn’t know why she was with him. Maybe it was because the married man she was in love with before, the one whom for four years has promised to leave his wife and kids, but didn’t. And it all came to an end shortly before meeting Tom.

Now for days she’d been wearing Tom’s clothes; she took nothing with her when racing away from L.A.

They had made love the second day and had done so three times a day. There was something about Tom, something strange, life a man from an understanding world, a soft sweet world. Yet he hadn’t really told her what he did for work. He just spoke of far away places and the desert.

“Well, you see, I write,” he spoke looking off into her eyes as they laid naked on the bed.

“Write?”

“Yes, out there,” pointing out an open door. An opening to barren land, and a star filled sky. His cottage being a good distance from May’s roadside place…..and at the edge of vast terra firma…..Kelly let her eyes absorb the desert as they grew heavy…..she slept.

When she awoke, he was gone, she waited.

When the sun was high she stepped out through that open door, and noticed some tracks that she began to follow, his tracks…..

In time, Kelly came to a large patch of sand surrounded by tall desert weeds of a harsh sun beaten place. She stood there on a small rise looking for Tom. That’s when she noticed the words, writing etched in the sand. It puzzled her so, his tracks seemed to disappear, leaving only the words all across the sand.

She read the message, some cryptic writing of a sort. The words were easy, soft and kind. She wanted to read more but she would of had to step on it. The message was narrowly spaced apart, yet there wasn’t any foot prints, tracks anywhere. She looked around nervously in all directions…..but Tom was no where to be found.

Kelly began to feel the heat of the sun, glancing down, noticing she had forgot to put on her shoes, the sand was hot as she walked around to where she thought the writing began. Finding it, she bent her body, arching it so. She even got down on all fours as far as she could see…..The words were lovely, she wanted more. She stepped so gently between the lines of sentences and read on…..

The soft words melted through her, making her heart pound and seemingly forgetting the world around her. Her troubles of late, even the new handsome Tom…..

In time, a long time, she finished. She began weeping at the very end of it. Not of sorrow but for some kind of new meaning to life, her life. This time as her palms wiped away her tears, she knew the past was gone. This day was a new beginning for her. The words in the sand were about her, meant for her.

She sat there a long time, not wanting to leave her verses…..then a warm breeze began and a gust of wind, wind not from the north, south, east, or west, but from straight above her. She looked up…..then across the written sand. At the start of the words she saw the breeze swirl and twist gently, it began erasing the lines one at a time. She stood up frightened, standing still but didn’t run and waited till’ the soft wind was with her at the very end, erasing and even touching her feet. The touch of it brought a glow to her soul, when the last word was all gone, the wind suddenly stopped. She believed it rose, up, up and away. Getting nervous again, she quickly ran for the cottage…..it wasn’t there. She ran on to May’s…..

“Where’s the cottage, where’s Tom!” cried Kelly.

Kelly stood in front of the bar, the place was empty.

“Honey, is that your car out front?”

Kelly didn’t want to hear about her damn car.

“The small cottage back there, it was blue and Tom the nice looking guy who rents it?” Kelly inquired of May.

The bartender gazed out the small window behind the register and looked at the ……emptiness, only sun and desert.

“Maybe you better have some water”, as May began to pour some in a glass.

Kelly ran to the backdoor again….. so searching with her eyes. Then, not knowing why….. went to her car and drove away.

[to be continued]

By: George Martorano
Copyright:12973
12/12/14

Letter To some forgotten God

December 9th, 2014 by George Martorano


Dear forgotten God,

As always I write thee. As always seasons escape me; of which I can never catch. Yet, I have learned a good dream always comes and displays itself the middle of next year.

My but we are a selfness….. Aren’t we, you and I forgotten God. For I am caged-living and at the same time, you a fading-praise! Just two adrift with the wrong currents….. Going on and on. Spotted now and then as if some flower pinned to a stranger’s breast. The first thing to see….. The last thing to believe.
For humans against our reason once mounted and mounted, as a horde they came for us, came as if flies upon a dead lion; leaving only its’ still eyes to bring deep thought. Now picture such a scene of death, forgotten God, with in a vast plain of sand. And if ever you could stroke a brush to canvas painting would cause anyone to stop and just stare, stare…..
Geez, forgotten God, lately we forget only to remember. We truly thirst for freedom’s moonlight. May and whence beneath such a silver glow, shall only love once, and you only to witness a very last to kneel to worship thee .Then for both, nay and no more.
Ooh, and to you, your moving world, envied world, you have much romance and we two not!…..
Alas, your golden image stolen away and I forever a prisoner. Tis hard, tis surely hard for us to exist just so soft stories can be created from the dim reflections of our very souls.
Now here, at this very bend, the lowly and long untoward. There be’th nothing to lose, there be’th no more to give of us…..Feeling like that flower pinned to a stranger’s breast…..The first thing to see…..the last thing to believe.
Well, I guess I shall close with this forgotten God. Just simply do try to seek out something that brings you joy. As you go afar if you come across someone special, do whisper so in her scented hair….. “Let me make all your dreams come true “.
Ah, thus farewell for now, forgotten God….. Just I, old friend, just I.

By: George Martorano
Copyright: 12973
12/5/14

HOPE

November 16th, 2014 by George Martorano


Well, to all and all….. We are almost there. There is still much happening, smart and good. So all stay with me for I shall lead thee true!

And lets all understand, hope; it has always existed, yet is owned by no one; it comes upon you on the “journey”; if you can master life’s unforeseeable miles…..
You see, one must be amble to travel amidst rainbow, or desert; have nay fear, and now and then….. kiss some one, close and dear…..

thy George Martorano, always
11/11/14

***I choose the picture above due to the fact that I just said to George last week, you will be free, the lawyers will leave no stone unturned… and one of them WILL say “FREEDOM” on it!!!!!….JF

A LONG DAY

November 10th, 2014 by George Martorano

Well, to all and all, long day for all of us. For me, I kept busy, classes, mentoring, threw in 1000 push-ups, 500 squats, etc… What I am saying -is- relax take care of thyself 1st…. And all please stay strong and surely best to just, smile…

Also, tonight I had an amazing class with “Fathers Behind Bars”. Where some students told of situations with their children. That, for me, brought tears. Yet, most important made other students “feel” as fathers again.

So, who are we to worry deep of me. When there are little ones suffering from this land of mass incarceration.

As long as I will be remembered in and of this world in good standing, a man of words that may have touched one’s heart, actions that try so to help… I, we, have already “won”.

So, love to all and all,
thy George Martorano, always

11/10/2014

A VERY IMPORTANT POEM

November 8th, 2014 by George Martorano

November, of Prayer or Prey

Through my fault…..through my fault…..Me, never de-crying fellow man.
My God, for I have raced at the four walls for decades on…..Always strong, always alone…..There, before still and stone.

And world! I have jailed my heart out…..Heeded all before my very eyes. In doing thus and thus; I have placed a cape of gray-honor upon my numbered soul.

Yet, alas alas, even with freedom’s waiting-kiss…..My dreams will always come to cruise within the damn of the cell…..

And world, oh world…..All I can do, tis vision your early morn, to so bring’th that “wonder”; I have breath’d….. for so very long.

By: George Martorano
copyright: 12973
11/10/14