Two Sentence Tuesday #50

            As aspirations go, some people strive to plant their flags upon the mountaintops while others won’t rest until they’ve reached out and touched the stars. For Harry, he was winning at life if he could afford a victory dance on the knoll across the street.

Two Sentence Tuesday #45

“What the hell am I doing with my life,” I groaned, driving away from my latest disappointment.

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” a voice whispered from the backseat.

I've Seen This One Before

I've Seen This One Before

Hazy memories,

Projecting in my mind’s eye

Through sentimental filters,

Are nothing but a

Bogus Capra-fication

Of underwhelming events.

Everybody has

Cinematic reflections;

More compelling, I suppose,

But what, then, is real

In our art-house memories…

And can “genuine” compare? 

Life in Technicolor - II

Life in Technicolor – Part II

By Brandon Palzkill

Clanging, breaking, clamorous bellowing;

the still night silence is shattered,

ripping a girl from her uncertain dreams.

An all too familiar disturbance

echoes down the shadowy hallway…

he’s come back, again.

Night after night, he returns,

after hiding away in a darkened tavern,

in the raucous companionship

of his buddies, Jack, Jose, and Jim.

Full of wild turkey and fiery blood,

he storms through the front door,

eager to blame someone

for all his failings and shortcomings.

Roaring torrents of shouts

ripple through the shivering walls,

the little girl quakes with fear beneath

their savagery.

She peers intently down the hall;

silhouettes flicker

against the yellow aura

radiating from the kitchen.

They dance the terrorizing tango

of the drunken husband

and the defeated wife,

to a symphony of broken glass

and crashing pans.

Heavy footsteps draw nearer,

compelling the girl to cower

beneath her beaten pillows,

pretending to be invisible.

“Please no, please no,” she prays, horrified,

“not tonight… go away,”

and she buries her face

in her mattress;

if she doesn’t see him, he’s not there.

She waits with eyes clenched tightly shut;

seconds pass… minutes;

the anticipation

brings frantic tears streaming down…

nothing;

the stumbling footsteps have

retreated beyond the darkened veil

and unsteady security is restored.

The little girl closes her eyes

and takes a breath,

her wary ears diligently

listening for his return.

She can’t resume her troubled slumber,

but lies there, waiting…

Life in Technicolor - I

Life in Technicolor – Part I

By Brandon Palzkill

A cold, clinical room sits

at the end of a sterile hallway,

within an unremarkable hospital.

Buzzing fluorescent tubes

cast their soft white glow

over a whirlwind of commotion,

as doctors and nurses work diligently

around a struggling woman;

the center of all attention.

Unimaginable pains rend her;

eyes clamped shut in agony,

she heaves and shrieks to the heavens,

until her blinding torture

reaches its ultimate climax;

a virginal cry splits the air.

The woman finally breathes; rests;

lost in delirious euphoria,

gazing at the miracle before her…

the newborn daughter in her arms.

Form Follows Function

Form Follows Function

By Brandon Palzkill

Feeding my imagination,

unearthed ideas reveal themselves;

narratives screaming out to be

cast into shining creation.

Tempered, my chosen words become;

I paint a rich poetic picture

of intricately textured  imagery,

neatly interweaved with

fuliginous subtext.

Over time, I’ll breathe

refreshing life into my efforts;

my words exist, at long last.