Uvi Poznansky's Blog, page 167

#MothersDay #Gift: Dear, are you cheating on us?

Before I can go back to my writing, my other wife, Ahinoam of Jezreel, leans over my desk with her newborn baby. With motherly pride she bounces him this way and that in her arms. “You know me,” she says. “Unlike that other wife of yours I’m modest, much too modest to ask anything for myself.”“Thank goodness,” say I, with a sigh of relief.“But then again, what about your son, Amnon?”“What about him?”“He’s your first born, dear, the fruit of your loins,” she says, with a sudden blush.“I suppose he is,” say I. “So?”Ahinoam puts Amnon in my arms, wanting me to coo at him. “I don’t want to put any ideas in your head,” she says, “but—”“Then, don’t!”“But, but won’t he look adorable, and ever so princely, in a cute little purplish suit?”“I’m too busy for chitchat, don’t you see?” I tell her, trying to subdue the tone of complaint in my voice. “But—”“And,” I go on to say, “adorable as he may be, I’m not going to squander my hard earned booty, and on top of it let tens of thousands of sea snails be crushed into extinction, just for a trifle, for a baby suit, which he’ll soon outgrow.”“That would be such a waste,” says Abigail, nudging Ahinoam, ever so gently, away from me. “On the other hand, if you’d find it in your heart to buy your servant a new gown, I promise: I’m never going to outgrow it!”“Oh darling,” says Ahinoam, under her breath. “It would be quite a challenge to get any bigger than you already are.” Which Abigail pretends not to hear. Batting her eyelashes, she blows a little kiss in my direction and says, “The expense is well worth it, my lord. Really, it’s just like saving money.”Meanwhile, my new bride, Maacha, elbows her way between both of them. “Splurging is something I truly appreciate,” she says, “but why would you do it for simple women, women who don’t have a drop of royal blood flowing in their veins? They’re commoners. I’m not!”To which I say, “I have nothing against commoners. I’m one of them.”Abigail smiles. “Thank you, my lord.”At that, Maacha stamps her foot. “Did you hear that? She admits being a maid. I’m a princess!”And Ahinoam jeers at her, “Who cares? You’re not even one of us, are you?”“Enough already,” say I. “Take leave of me, all of you.”Instead, Maacha makes her way into my arms and from here, she hisses at the other two, long and hard, in a manner that is questionably regal.To placate her I try murmuring sweet nothings in her ear. “Your lips drop sweetness as the honeycomb, my bride, milk and honey are under your tongue. The fragrance of your garments is like the fragrance of Lebanon.”“Forget milk and honey,” she bristles at me. “And forgive me for saying so, I don’t care much for poetry, either.”“Really? You don’t? That,” I say, “is a problem. Any wife of mine must appreciate the finer things in life—”“What I really need right now is one thing,” says Maacha. “A purple veil for the upcoming wedding. I want to look mysterious.”I hesitate to refuse her, so she presses on. “Need I say the obvious? By marrying me, you’re about to gain an important political ally. My father, the honorable king Talmai of Geshur, will be ready to attack your enemies from their back when you face them in battle.”“My enemies,” say I, “are my brethren.”“Even so. Ours is a union of mutually calculated benefits. You give, I take.”“Is that how it works?”“It is,” she replies. “So why not treat me in the manner to which I’m accustomed? Spoil me, David, with your gifts, your little tokens of luxury.”I shake my head in dismay. “Why, no! I’m not going to ask for your father’s help to spill the blood of my brethren, just so you can dye your veil purple.” “Soldiers are expendable,” says Maacha, in a perfectly calm voice. “Not so us women.”“My lord,” says Abigail, “if you don’t treat us with proper care, we may start suspecting that the rumors are true.”Noting that the three of them are exchanging glances I take a step back. “Rumors?” “Dear,” says Ahinoam, “are you cheating on us?”“Who, me?”“Tell us the truth,” she demands. “Are you having an affair? Tongues are wagging all over town, about those two new girls next door, Abital and Eglah.”So what choice do I have but to swear, “In heaven’s name, what are you suggesting?”“I’m not suggesting,” says she. “I’m just saying.”“I would never betray my wives!” “Wouldn't you, dear?”I clap my hand over my heart, most earnestly, and in an offended tone I say, “Of course not! Which is why I’ve already proposed to both of them.”“I see,” says Maacha. Abigail giggles. “I can just imagine, my lord, what words you used.”“Yeah,” says Ahinoam, and with a hint of mockery in her tone she quotes the line I once whispered in her ear, and in the ear of any other girl I knew, “Your eyes behind your veil are doves. Your hair is like a flock of goats, descending from the hills of Gilead.”Taking a cue from her, Abigail goes on to quote my next line, “Your lips are like a scarlet ribbon. Your mouth is lovely. Your temples behind your veil are like the halves of a pomegranate.”
And Maacha says, “I don’t really care for all that agricultural talk. A purple veil is what I want. Give it to me and then, who cares? You can describe me as any kind of fruit you wish.” 
David in The David Chronicles

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Volume III of the trilogy:The Edge of Revolt
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#MothersDay #Gift: she’ll kill you anyway!

Wading on foot through puddles and mud, the king starts leading his stallion, and me on its back, towards the path going down into the valley. With every step I can spot how his crown—so close at hand, at this moment—is dancing on his head.On our way we pass by a group of our soldiers. They are breaking bread. By its shape I recognize it: this is my mother’s signature loaf, which I have carried here earlier, and handed over to my brothers. Startled, they snap to attention at the sight of the king. Perhaps they are wondering about his companion. Who, they ask each other, is this mysterious stranger, riding so magnificently upon his stallion, with a shining armor and a hidden face? In a blink I spot my brother among them. He seems a bit confused. “Eliab,” I cry out. Yet, no one can guess that it has been a cry, because my voice comes out muffled.With a big show of servitude, he bows deeply before me, before the king, before me again, scraping the ground each and every time.By the expression on his face, he seems not recognize who I am, perhaps because of my ridiculous mask. But the sight of my clothes, peeking out under the bottom of the armor, must be familiar to him, and for some reason, it gives him the shivers. His jaw drops, bread crumbs and all, and he claps a hand over it. His eyes are bulging with dread. I sit stiff, caged in copper. I cannot signal to him, cannot even keep my eye slits on him, as the horse carries me forward. But this I know: Eliab is in shock—and burning here, in this metallic furnace, so am I. Somehow I know what he must be thinking at this moment. As a matter of habit, everyone here carries a bag full of loot, some of which has been lifted from the corpses of the enemy, and some—from the corpses of our own. Everyone here finds it justified, or at least necessary, to enjoy the plunder, and to accept the gifts of luck. Why? Because life is short, tough, and uncertain. So after every battle, they mend ill-fitting shirts, coats, and shoes that used to belong to others. They stuff their pockets full with coins inherited from the dead, which they, the dead, had inherited from others. Eliab has survived numerous skirmishes, and he brags, from time to time, about his collection of the spoils of war. Naturally, the clothes I am wearing on my back make him jump to the wrong conclusion. I hear his tearful voice from behind. “I’ll be damned,” he wails in astonishment. “The little rascal’s gone! Oh David, David... Why, why did you have to be such a smart ass, why did you dare come here, to the front... You should’ve stayed with mom...”And before I can think of a way to let him know I am still here, in the realm of the living, he goes on to moan, “Now it’s all my fault! What the hell shall I do, what shall I tell her?” I wish I could shout back, What’s the difference? No matter what you say, she’ll kill you anyway!
David in Rise to Power

★ Love giving gifts? Give The David Chronicles ★
The complete trilogy:The David Chronicles (Boxed Set) 
Ebook: Kindle ★ Apple ★ Nook ★ Kobo ★ Smashwords
Volume I of the trilogy: Rise to PowerEbook: Kindle ★ Nook ★ Apple ★ Kobo ★ SmashwordsPaperback: Amazon ★ Barnes&NobleAudiobook: iTunes ★ Amazon ★ Audible
Volume II of the trilogy:A Peek at Bathsheba
Ebook: Kindle ★ Nook ★ Apple ★ Kobo ★ SmashwordsPaperback: Amazon ★ Barnes&NobleAudiobook: iTunes ★ Amazon ★ Audible
Volume III of the trilogy:The Edge of Revolt
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#MothersDay #Gift: Strengthen me with raisins for I am faint with love

Just this morning I woke up to a surprise: Bathsheba slipped into my bed, wearing a soft, silky robe that glided, ever so smoothly, off her shoulders. I knew she was in a playful mood—if you know what I mean—because of her sudden cravings. “Strengthen me with raisins,” she murmured in my ear. “Refresh me with apples, for I am faint with love.”I rushed to bring her a tray of ripe fruit. Then I put my arm around her and could not wait until she was done eating. Between one little nibble and another she told me, in her most delicious voice, to slow down. “Do not arouse or awaken love,” she said, “until it so desires.”In place of an answer I reclined back on the bed, and pointed at the blanket. I do not want to brag about it, but the fabric was stretching to a peak over me, tenting my arousal.Just then I thought I heard someone tiptoeing just outside the chamber, in the corridor. I leapt off the bed and was surprised to find little Solomon there, his ear to the door and his hand tucked behind him, hiding something from me. “Show me what you’ve got there,” I said.The kid shook his head till his freckles nearly flew of his nose. “No,” he said, with a stubborn tone.So I warned him, “I know what you’ve done.” His eyes widened. “You do?”“Oh yes,” said I. “You’ve listened to every word we said, and worse: you’ve written it.”“So?” He shrugs. “Is that a crime?”“Only if you publish it.” “Not going to.”“Promise?”“Promise.”“All the same,” I insisted, “show me your hand.”Solomon raised his hand to my eyes. And just as I had expected, the palm of it was covered with minute, inky characters, spelling out the sentence, “Do not arouse or awaken love, until it so desires.”I peered into his innocent eyes. “You have any idea what that means?”“Nope,” said the kid. “But I’m going to figure it out. It must become clear, if I look at it long enough. Then I’ll recite it out loud, before everyone—”I cried, “You what?”The kid smiled, and pulled his hand back. “I’ll tell them things like, ‘Strengthen me with raisins. Refresh me with apples, for I am faint with love.’ People find me adorable when they hear me say such words.”“They what?”“They say it’s pure poetry. They say I take after you, daddy! So it doesn’t really matter, does it, if I don’t get what exactly it all means—they will!”“But, but,” I stammer, “these aren’t your words! They belong to your mom and me!”“Don’t worry,” said Solomon. “I won’t tell them that.”Straddling between anger and an undeniable sense of amusement I wagged my finger at him. “Go wash your hand at once,” I said. “What we talk about, your mom and I, isn’t meant for your ears. It’s private.” “Nope,” he said. “Once I write it down, it’s mine.”  “Isn’t,” said I.
David in The Edge of Revolt

★ Love giving gifts? Give The David Chronicles ★
The complete trilogy:The David Chronicles (Boxed Set) 
Ebook: Kindle ★ Apple ★ Nook ★ Kobo ★ Smashwords
Volume I of the trilogy: Rise to PowerEbook: Kindle ★ Nook ★ Apple ★ Kobo ★ SmashwordsPaperback: Amazon ★ Barnes&NobleAudiobook: iTunes ★ Amazon ★ Audible
Volume II of the trilogy:A Peek at Bathsheba
Ebook: Kindle ★ Nook ★ Apple ★ Kobo ★ SmashwordsPaperback: Amazon ★ Barnes&NobleAudiobook: iTunes ★ Amazon ★ Audible
Volume III of the trilogy:The Edge of Revolt
Ebook: Kindle ★ Nook ★ Apple ★ Kobo ★ SmashwordsPaperback Amazon ★ Barnes&Noble

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Let me introduce you to my author friends

My author friends have joined forces with me!Just ahead of the Mother's daywe bring you amazing stories, with characters who are thinking of mom.Click the profile image or the name of each one of us to learn about our work.
Then go to   Mom And join to win!
Uvi Poznansky
"I paint with my pen, and write with my paintbrush"@UviPoznansky
Donna Fasano
"Romance that warms the heart"@DonnaFaz
Barbara Silkstone
"There is no second chance at first love."@barbsilkstone
Stacy Juba
"Mystery, Romance, and YA featuring Characters at a Crossroads"@stacyjuba
Janet MorrisBestselling author of novels from historical to fantastical.
@uvmchristinePerseidSacred Band
Seb Kirby"Author of thrillers exploring crime, conspiracy and duplicity."
@Seb_Kirby
James DiBenedetto
"What would you do if you could see other people's dreams?"@JJDiBenedetto
Ruth Cardello
"Saving the world one billionaire at a time"@RuthieCardello
Sheryl Lynn Christian"Essentially a teacher, my strengths are compassion, clarity, openness, and creativity."
@SeekWholeness
David P. Perlmutter
@davepperlmutter
Sloan Johnson

Looking for a #MothersDay gift? Join us!

A select group of authors has joined forces with meto bring you amazing storiesnarrated by great voice actors Just ahead of Mother’s Day.Looking for a special gift? Come listen to voice clips from our audiobooks You may win one of them!
Don't miss this opportunity! Click this link and join: Mom
Uvi Poznansky A Peek at Bathsheba Rise to Power Apart from Love A Favorite Son Donna Fasano A n Accidental FamilyTake me, I’m Yours Barbara Silkstone Mister Darcy’s Christmas Mister Marcy’s Dog
Zo White and the Seven Morphs
Stacy Juba Dark before Dawn
Janet Morris Mage Blood The Sacred Band Seb Kirby Take No  More
James DiBenedetto Dream Child Betty and Howard’s Excellent Adventure Ruth Cardello Come Away with Me
Sheryl Lynn Christian 12 Steps to Inner Peace
David P. Perlmutter Wrong Place Wrong Time
Sloan Johnson Dance with Destiny

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Volume III of the trilogy:The Edge of Revolt
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In the spirit of spring: The air smelled of dusk and night-blooming flowers

Coming out of so long a trance, oft-repeated formulae took over.  He told himself that when he woke he would be totally refreshed, and remember everything valuable that had transpired.  He told himself that he would be stronger, quicker in body and mind, than he had been before he ventured to his rest-place.  He told himself that only good would come of what he’d learned there.Then he counted to three, opened his eyes, and sat up abruptly.There before him, nothing had changed except shadows.  These had grown shorter, then long again, as he and the adept had labored.  Outside his cabin’s window, the sun was setting.  The air smelled of dusk and night-blooming flowers, and carried the sounds of nocturnal insects.For an instant he thought he was alone, that the adept had disappeared.  But then he heard the old man’s voice, wispy and somehow weaker than it had been in his rest-place.And saw the old one clearly, where he had not seen the man before.  Still in a cross-legged position, the adept said:  “Niko, my legs have fallen asleep.  Can you help me?”
It was a touch the teacher was asking for – not ‘death touch,’ but ‘life touch.’ Niko had not used such a touch since his early training.  But he did now.  He swung his own legs off his pallet and knelt before the old man.  He held his own palm out, toward the other’s body, and slowly extended it until he felt heat, and a current, a tide as if he had touched the sea.
Excerpt from a novel byJanet Morris included in At Odds with Destiny

Ten amazing novels in one boxed setOpen it at your own risk:
At Odds with Destiny★ Kindle ★ Nook ★ Apple ★★ Kobo ★ Smashwords ★ 
"An attention grabbing collection of books. Each compelling in their own right."

Haven’t you just come from a military campaign?

As Uriah is summoned back to the court I ask myself, why is he so obstinate, so determined not to visit his wife? It is possible that a hint, a rumor of his her adultery has already reached his ears? If so, is there any course of action open to him? I mean, what can a soldier do to defy a king? When he comes before me I ask him, “Haven’t you just come from a military campaign? Why don’t you go home?”Uriah the Hittite says to me, “Your majesty, the Ark of God is staying in a tent.”“What? Have you become Jewish all of a sudden?” I ask. “I mean, what is it to you, where the Ark stays? You can go to your house and have a merry good time, and forget living in a tent just because God does.”“How can I forget?” he asks. “My commander Joav and my lord’s men are camped out there, outside Rabbah, in the open country. How can I go to my house to eat and drink and make love to my wife? As surely as you live I’ll not do such a thing!”Then he grows exceedingly quiet. By the look in his eyes I see what he thinks. The only way open to him is silent resistance.I feel for him, because I know how it feels to be in his shoes, simply by remembering my years in the court of my predecessor, king Saul. With a shriek, his spear would come singing straight at me. 
I remember: depending on how close it came I would catch the thing—or else dodge it, letting it hit the wall. It would hit hard, then fall bouncing to the stone floor. The entire space would fill with echoes of it, ringing.“Here,” I said, picking it up, returning it dutifully to Saul. “Boy,” said the king, watching me with a crazed look in his eye, as I went back to my place behind him. “What would a king do without his jester.”
Now, even without hurtling a spear, I am the one using Uriah for my jester. I decide to give him one more chance to redeem himself in my eyes before I give up on him, before I begin to despair of my own redemption. So I tell him, “Stay here one more day, and tomorrow I’ll send you back.” He remains in Jerusalem that day and the next. I invite him to eat and drink with me, which allows me to take a stab at trying to make him drunk. I slap him on his shoulder with a fine sense of camaraderie. I even give him my goblet. I fill it for him so it is overflowing with beer. He gulps it down dutifully. One keg after another is brought in. Meanwhile I discuss how it is flavored with hops, which add a hint of bitterness, and act as a natural preservative, and how during the process of fermentation, herbs may be added to one keg and fruit to another, for no better reason than achieving variety in taste. By the end of the evening I am exhausted by all this talk, and so, I think, is he.  After all this effort on my part I am astounded to learn that nothing, nothing at all comes of it. Uriah goes out in the evening to sleep on his mat among my servants. He is steadfast in refusing to go home. Perhaps he fails to understand that being stubborn may cost him dearly.
David in A Peek at Bathsheba
My writing is greatly inspired by art of all ages. Here is an unusual painting which I love because of its overlay of painting techniques )splashing paint, scratching it out) and because of its overlay of modern and ancient references. It is titled David gets Uriah drunk by Ivan Schwebel. After a year travelling in Europe, a love affair with an Israeli brought the artist to Israel in 1963. The love affair ended, but he stayed. Schwebel had a passion for the bible and Jewish and Israeli history. He delved into all of it for his subject matter, bringing together characters and narratives regardless of time, and setting them in modern- day Tel Aviv or Jerusalem, the Judean hills, or New York City. He liked to play with ideas, and thoroughly mixed his visual metaphors. He showed David and Bat-Sheva next to a Nazi deportation train, and Job despairing over his relationship with the Palestinians. Here, he presents David and Uriah in Ben-Yehudah street in Jerusalem.

★ Love giving gifts? Give The David Chronicles ★
The complete trilogy:The David Chronicles (Boxed Set) 
Ebook: Kindle ★ Apple ★ Nook ★ Kobo ★ Smashwords
Volume I of the trilogy: Rise to PowerEbook: Kindle ★ Nook ★ Apple ★ Kobo ★ SmashwordsPaperback: Amazon ★ Barnes&NobleAudiobook: iTunes ★ Amazon ★ Audible

Volume II of the trilogy:A Peek at Bathsheba
Ebook: Kindle ★ Nook ★ Apple ★ Kobo ★ SmashwordsPaperback: Amazon ★ Barnes&NobleAudiobook: iTunes ★ Amazon ★ Audible
Volume III of the trilogy:The Edge of Revolt
Ebook: Kindle ★ Nook ★ Apple ★ Kobo ★ SmashwordsPaperback Amazon ★ Barnes&Noble

In the spirit of spring: the rich exotic scent of flowers and coconut oil permeated the air

Slade led them through a narrow hall and up a flight of stairs. At the top, a door opened on a darkened room that appeared to be a storage closet. Another door waited on the opposite wall. Slade threw it back, and light flooded through to sear Gabriel’s gloom-accustomed eyes. He stumbled after his captor into a hotel lobby furnished in extravagance. The small, round light fixtures recessed into the ceiling were almost invisible, and the cream-colored walls seemed to cast a glow of their own. Clusters of velvet couches, overstuffed chairs and low, burnished maple coffee tables lent the impression of an upscale coffee house or a sitting room in a mansion. Opulence and wealth surrounded him. The deep carpet felt plush on his bare feet, the rich exotic scent of flowers and coconut oil permeated the air. But he noted only the windows and doors, trying to remember possible escape routes. Slade slowed his pace. 
Excerpt from S.W. Vaughn's novel, included in At Odds with Destiny

Ten amazing novels in one boxed setOpen it at your own risk:
At Odds with Destiny★ Kindle ★ Nook ★ Apple ★★ Kobo ★ Smashwords ★ 
"An attention grabbing collection of books. Each compelling in their own right."