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Monthly Archives: April 2016
New Poem: Rare Love
Artist: Mark Alberto Yoder Nunez
Rare Love by Mark Alberto Yoder Nuñez
She looks into his liquid eyes
And feels the flow of mysteries
His hands so gentle on her body
She feels her soul and body melting
Her thoughts melt and all she knows
Is hot breathing and two hearts beating
There is the warmth and heat where their bodies are touching
All outside is cold and fleeting
From schoolboy’s crush to wild imagination
Romantic novels and burning fascinations
Never giving up despite the years
Holding on despite the fears
Dreams melt into waking life
As the schoolgirl becomes a wife
Many have lived and died in vain
For a love that is so elusive
They couldn’t know the fire in the rain
They thought it all was so exclusive
Holding out as no one else would dare
For a love that is so rare
Experiencing rare love such as this
In a moment is eternal bliss
It takes a lifetime of learning
Boys and girls learning from each other
Developing skill
Learning to trust each other beyond their will
Learning to care
A love so rare
From: The Spider Lady and Other Short Stories and Poetry
Now available on Noise Trade and Goodreads!
Free download of eBook for review!
The Spider Lady: Episode One
Description: “An older woman tries to cast a seduction spell on a young taxi driver who tries to break her spell with poetry in this creative non-fiction work of horror and mystery.”
The Spider Lady
I was a young cab driver, twenty-eight years old, and had been driving taxi for a year in town when I became acquainted with a woman of about fifty years of age. She was a taxi customer. She called for deliveries of beer and cigarettes. Invariably when I got this call it was in the late afternoon when I was first starting my shift and it was still sunny out. She would come to her open front door with the screen door closed which she pushed open. Then she would take the merchandise in the brown, paper bag. She had her check book handy and wrote out the check for the merchandise, delivery charge and a gratuity. Normally taxi drivers don’t take checks but the veteran cab drivers and dispatchers assured me that her checks were always good. I noticed that when I got the call and went to deliver the goods it was always still daylight but when I turned away from her front door to go back to my taxi the night had fallen and it was dark.
An older, sedan car was always in her driveway and except for the paint being slightly dull it seemed in almost mint condition. I would pull my taxi into the driveway behind the car. I walked up the three concrete steps and along the concrete slab, front porch that ran along the front of the house until it came to her front door under the overhanging roof with the trellises of vines along this narrow corridor.
She would appear at the screen door and open it to take the beer and cigarettes and pay me. One day when she appeared at the door and it was already getting slightly dark she stood facing me and she was wearing a see- through, sheer black top. She definitely looked about fifty years old and was a plain looking woman but her breasts looked surprisingly firm, big and good. When she opened the screen door with her checkbook and pen in her hand instead of putting the paper bag aside as usual she bent down very slowly in front of me to place the paper sack on the floor. She said so she could write her check. As she was bending down slowly in front of me her large, firm breasts hung down low behind the black sheer. She slowly rose to stand facing me again, a smile on her face. I smiled back at her. She wrote out the check for the merchandise and delivery fee. She obviously wanted me to look at her firm, large breasts. When she gave me the check she then bent down slowly in front of me to lift the bag up. Then she slowly stood back up in front of me. She seemed to want to keep talking to me but I thanked her and left. Once again it had grown quite dark out. As usual it was a warm evening. It was always a warm evening when I made these deliveries.
The next time I brought her delivery the events were exactly the same. I pulled into the driveway behind the car that never seemed to be moved from its spot. Yet it had no weeds growing beneath it, no cobwebs. It was never dirty and seemed well maintained. With the middle class, stucco home in a neighborhood where property values had greatly increased everything seemed quite respectable. Once again, as it seemed suddenly to start growing dark she was leaning over in front of me, breasts naked behind the black, sheer, bending down to lower the sack of goods with her large breasts hanging down in front of me. Then she slowly rose to face me to write out the check.
The next time I got this order things went differently. It was a little earlier in the afternoon. There wasn’t the feeling that it would get dark soon. When she came to the door she was dressed normally, average for her age and she seemed rather plain looking I thought. She invited me in to sit down on a couch that was beneath the front, living room window. It faced inward into the room and I waited while she went to get her checkbook. Sunshine seemed to be spilling everywhere from the front window and the back window of the living room opposite me that faced out into the garden in the back yard.
As I sat on the couch with its intricate woven pattern that was meant to have a gold and silver embroidered look to it and I saw other small couches and comfortable upholstered chairs about in the clutter of this living room I noticed the luxurious cushions all around me and about the room on couches and chairs. There was artwork and books and a small, dark brown piano directly in front of me with open sheet music that looked like classical music on the music stand of the piano. I was very aware that everything this woman was doing to me was meant to impress me.
Then I noticed the smell. At first I tried to ignore it and think positive thoughts but as I looked about the room with its artistic and intellectual pretentions and in the warmth and stuffiness the smell kept feeling more odious and I could not ignore it. I tried to think what this smell might be. All I could think of was that it smelled like Death. I had never smelled a smell like it before but the only way I could describe it was to say that it smelled like Death to me. Then she reappeared and wrote out the check with an included tip and things seemed normal again. As I walked along the front porch from her door I noticed that it was still light out but already near the horizon it seemed there was a trace of the purple of dusk. The sun had just dipped behind the adjacent neighbor’s garage.
Continued on:
https://markalbertoyodernunez.blog/2016/05/12/the-spider-lady-episode-two/
Also, on Scribd!
The Dreamers: New Poem
We were sad, restless dreamers in a restless age
In innocence and wonder we gazed at the beauty of the world
While all the world around us rushed blindly on
in waste and self destructiveness
We took the time to watch the sun go down
Now all these years have come and gone
And I sit here alone on a magic night
The wind is warm and dry
The dusk is purple
And the innermost longings of my soul
Wash over me slowly in a gentle wave
Warming me and soothing me and reminding me
of the child who dreamed of love
The child who is the real me
Who always was
Yes, we are just friends
But the machinations of the greedy world tore us apart!
Expectations, lust and fame
But all those things were for nothing
Just beautiful sunsets that were missed
As we hurried and fretted our young lives away
“All I want is a place in the sun!” I cried!
And the world mockingly laughed like a sorry, old crone in
reply
We were sad, restless dreamers in a restless age
In innocence and wonder we gazed at the beauty of the world
To hear the poet reciting his own poetry: Poetry Readings
If you are interested in this eBook: Amazon or My Book Page
The Dream: A Tale of Horror
I was sitting on an old-fashioned, wooden, park bench under
a shady tree on a green, grassy hillock with my old, long,
black, cotton raincoat bundled up next to me on the dark,
wooden slats of the bench. I felt in a state of relaxation and
wanted to lie down on the lawn of the college underneath the
tree. And so I laid the long, black coat on the green grass to lie
upon it, the green grass and buildings of the college ahead of
me in the sunshine under the blue, afternoon skies.
As I did so a middle-aged bum, younger than myself, with
shaggy, black hair and beard and wide-open, wild-looking,
coal black eyes, dressed all in black with a long, black raincoat
who was looking into my eyes and stroking his beard came up
to me, talking to me and making no sense. I crooked myself up
on my elbows. He was barefoot. I said nothing in reply to
him. He retreated to lie down ahead of me and slightly to the
right on the grass and fell asleep.
Young adults began gathering to sit on the grass and
socialize. Young men gathered to the right of me where the
green lawn rolled down into a crease between the hillocks. It
was a drainage that in turn rolled downward behind myself and
the tree. The young people kept gathering on the lawns. At
that moment I knew there was to be a concert in front of the
buildings ahead of me which there was no sign of as of yet.
My older brother appeared, standing at my left side, as I
reclined with the upper part of my body propped up from my
elbows on the ground. We talked and then he said he was
going to watch the concert from his car in the parking lot
below. He walked down the hill behind the tree. I turned to
look over my left shoulder below to see him start his car and
move it to the closest, inner circle of the parking lot to watch
the concert from there.
Meanwhile the young men to my right, some sitting, some
standing, were beginning to have a lively conversation. Three
more young men arrived from down the hill and were standing
with their backs to me. They engaged in the conversation. The
conversation was lively and all the young men were smiling
and in a good mood. I stood up and walked to the right a few
steps, to face the young men who were several feet away.
The young men had begun to talk about having illnesses
and the drugs they were using to treat themselves. They
mentioned pharmaceutical sounding names of drugs that I had
never heard of. One young man who was standing and facing
me was wearing a tight tee shirt and straight leg, blue jeans.
He had very short, light colored hair. He said he was taking a
drug called Biopronyl. I looked at him and at his stomach in
amazement because he had mentioned that he had an
abdominal illness. He was muscular and in good shape. His
face was a little round and chubby so that his eyes were like
cheerful, little slits because of his big, closed mouth smile. He
was looking into my eyes. The young men talked with
enthusiasm like college students about technical subjects with
their pharmaceutical terms.
I walked back up the hillock to stand where I had previously
been lying down. Then two, huge vultures appeared flying low
toward us! They were straight ahead of me and a little to the
right with their black and dark grey, dirty, shaggy, huge
feathers, with their pink-red, long, curved necks and bald heads
with yellow-pale, big, hooked beaks with crooked mouths that
almost seemed to have little smiles. They had piercing but
evasive, dark eyes.
They were among us, one circling counter clockwise, the
other circling clockwise. One was flying to the right in front of
me. Another one to my right seemed to be veering straight
towards me. Then it veered away to continue its circle. Then it
came around again and was flying towards me. It veered to the
right again and was passing very close to me. I got angry. I
punched at it with my fists, the first punch being almost solid
against its sickly, dark feathers, the next two punches glancing.
It flew away, never veering from its path, and circled again.
Then I knew they weren’t interested in any of us and as it
veered directly in front of me again all I could do was watch. I
was now curious. It landed on the ground in front of me. The
other vulture was already on the ground beyond him. The huge
vultures advanced on the lawn in front of me. Then I realized
what they were interested in. “So that’s what they’re interested
in”, I thought. It was the bum lying on the ground who I
thought was asleep.
The huge vultures advanced towards the bare feet of the
bum and began quickly picking away at the grey and pink,
unhealthy looking flesh of the bum’s feet. Then the young
man in the tight tee shirt and blue jeans walked up to the left
foot of the sleeping bum on the ground displacing the vultures
that backed away. Then the young man proceeded to pull out
the toes of one of the feet. The toes came out in long, red-pink
shafts. He poked one of these back into the sickly, soft flesh of
the bum’s foot where it stuck out like a long, thin, raw, pork
rib. Then he jammed all the other shaft like toes back into the
soft, sickly flesh of the foot so they were sticking out in all
directions. He stepped away and let the vultures do their work.
The vultures went directly to the feet again and continued from
there.
I was then standing on the next, grassy hillock to the right
on higher ground. Someone , a gentleman I had been
conversing with, was standing next to me. He was about my
age. Like me he was wearing wire rim glasses. He had a
round, chubby face. He was clean shaven, with very short hair.
He was wearing a pull over sweater and he was, also, wearing
a long, black, cotton rain coat. It was a bright, sunny morning.
All of the people were gone. I looked down at the green
hillock below me where it had all happened. There were no
people. Not a sign of anything that had transpired. Only the
two, huge vultures walking about on the green, grassy mound.
This is a work of creative non-fiction. It may seem surreal and fantastic but it is exact reportage of a dream I had. What do you think this dream means?
To hear the poet reciting his own poetry: Poetry Readings
If you are interested in this eBook: Amazon or My Book Page
The Lonely Bird: A poem by Mark Alberto Yoder Nuñez
The night is perilous, dark and cold
The lonely bird sits perched on his roost up above in the
highest branches of the Tree
Keeping still, trying to stay warm
Eyes sometimes closed, sometimes opened very narrowly
Alert, wary of the slithering or gentle padding
The rustling that is not the gentle, night breeze
The anxious breath held in check of creeping, predatory night
creatures
The feline stealth, the restless serpent tongue
The night so dark and ominous as it were Eternal and never
again the glad sight of familiar Day to be seen
The chill, morning dew oppressing the Spirit
But at last the slowly growing light of the Dawn
The bird feels rested, the Spirit renewed, as the fingers of
darkness and chill retreat Optimism returns
He shakes the dew from body and wings, his heart soars with
gladness at the prospect of a New Day
Then what notion is this? He’s already begun to sing
A joyful but lonely song peculiar only to him
The same song but the song is never exactly the same
And he can’t help but praise himself for the unique beauty of
his own song
Soon he hears another song and another and another
Soon he is but one voice among choruses of songs
Different melodies but with brilliant counterpoint
As the Morning grows brighter and warmer
The humming and buzzing of insects joins the orchestra
But the clever bird is the master musician, varying his song to
each nuance of the symphony
He freely improvises across his vast accompaniment
Sometimes in the foreground, sometimes diminishing
Allowing a dramatic pause then rejoicing with renewed
exuberance and vigor
His joyful but lonely song is true, an Inspiration
Then the Music has built to its crescendo, spiritual fulfillment
achieved
The Song begins to rest
Some birds still chirp, crows caw, another Day
The lonely bird takes to the Freedom of Flight
He does not know what the New Day will bring
But he knows before the Day is ended he must fly high
Feel free to add some forum comments on My Amazon Page!
Also, on Scribd!
Untitled Poem
I walk along the street in the shade of the trees
Bits of light and shadow dance on walls and sidewalk
I should cross over to the sunny side of the street
But I feel like tarrying longer in the cool of the shadows
On the other side of the street is Life
When I cross over
Soon I will be warm and sweaty but feeling so alive
So I tarry awhile longer among the shadows
Where everything seems so lucid
Read the entire book with a 14 day free trial on Scribd!
Now on Amazon!
Also, on My Book Page!
New Poem: Between LA and SF
So why are you so heaven blessed?
Every day is sun caressed
Every day you find fulfillment
But you ask yourself, “What alternative?”
To live a life that’s meaningless?
Days filled with emptiness
Is that the way you would leave your book
On your last day when life is through?
Links:
My Collection of Short Stories and Poetry eBook
Untitled
I tossed a stone into the Sea
To see what it would do for me
And the ripples went out
And became ocean waves
To return to the Sea inside of me
From: My first published, collection of short stories, poetry, aphorisms and humor is now available in eBook formats of ePub For Apple iPad/iBooks, Nook, Sony Reader, and Kobo. mobi For Kindle devices and Kindle apps. PDF Good for reading on a computer or for home printing. This is on Book Shop of the Book Baby website. You can purchase as a guest and do not have to set up an account. Book Baby is the distributor and the eBook will be available for sale on all of the major retailers’ websites within weeks. However sales directly from the distributor, Book Baby, means I get 85% of the sale price! If you want to help support an itinerant poet and writer I don’t think you will be disappointed with your choice!
My Book Shop Page Click on this if you are interested. There is a short bio on me. I will be publishing more updates soon!
Mark Alberto Yoder Nunez 