Quent Cordair's Blog, page 12
June 8, 2016
First Bite
“You shall have no other gods before me. You shall not worship the creations of man,” said the creation of man—as told by the man who had created him.
And many who sat listening to the storyteller believed him. And the storyteller was pleasantly surprised.
His audience wanted to hear more. They demanded more. This worried the storyteller, as he had already told the three stories he had thought up the night before. To buy time, as was his custom, he feigned fatigue. When they persisted, he as...
June 2, 2016
Thank you!
Thank you so much for your generous reviews. I’ll confess that I have such high standards for my work that I’m constantly floored at the response from my readers so far. But—thank you. Thank you, truly. . . . I’m on Amazon athttp://www.amazon.com/Quent-Cordair/e/B005IEC10A
May 30, 2016
The Sculpture That Won the War
From a letter to a sculptor
Sept 27, 2001
ONCE UPON A TIME, there was a sculptor who had only the face to finish of a magnificent statue, his masterpiece to date. Frustrated by his limitations and increasingly dissatisfied with his efforts to bring into existence the perfection in his mind’s eye, his progress on the artwork had foundered and stalled. His workshop had fallen silent. Indeed, as the days and weeks and months drifted on, the statue was in danger of never being finished at all.
Bu...
Warmth
We found ourselves standing next to each other. I was studying the prices of canned tuna. She was scanning the selection of instant-pudding mixes opposite. It was mid-afternoon, the aisle was otherwise empty. Try as she might, she could bend only so low to examine the items on the lower shelves, fearing, she admitted quietly, that her knees might fail to raise her. These things come with age, she conceded. We smiled it away. I turned to assist.
She was looking for butterscotch—that was the fl...
May 29, 2016
Between Venus and Mars
Crickets below, dippers above,
Night rising cool around the foxglove,
Floor of warm stone, ceiling of stars,
Jewel on the ring between Venus and Mars.
You’ll find my address between Venus and Mars.
Striding the plain, mountains surround,
Strove to find flight, broke the earthbound,
Made from this place, evolved and sublime,
Blessedly born and right for the time,
Mastering all but the passage of time.
Tick the count down until thunder and burn,
Children will fly, no thought of return,
While I...
May 26, 2016
Parting’s Sorrow Sweet
Though parting’s sorrow sweet may be,
I’ll have another course of thee—
The salted tears from silken lips,
The chalice raised on tilted hips,
Till lay me low in hunger’s grave,
Contented still to still thee crave.
Copyright 2016, Quent Cordair. All rights reserved.
May 23, 2016
Skye’s lullaby
From Chapter 12 of A New Eden, Part II of Idolatry…
“Honesto, there was a lullaby we learned when the choir came to your country a couple of summers ago. Would you like to hear it? You must know it.”
He nodded.
She cradled his head, rocking him, wiping him down as she sang:
Ili-ili tulog anay.
Wala diri imong nanay.
Kadto tienda bakal papay.
Ili-ili tulog anay....
There was a smile on his lips. His eyes had closed. Skye glanced despairingly at Simon. She sang it again, in English:
Little one,...
May 20, 2016
For me
I’m not so much against Islam as I am against religion.
I’m not so much against religion as I am against mysticism.
I’m not so much against mysticism as I am against faith.
I’m not so much against faith as I am for reason.
I’m not so much for reason as I am for life.
I’m not so much for life as I am for my life.
I am for my life.
I am for me.
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May 16, 2016
Whatever you do . . .
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. . . The movie was about a woman whose mission it was to find a cunning enemy agent, to seduce him and to kill him. There was little known about the man, not even his name. Armed only with a blurred photograph, a small handgun and her determination, she tracked and pursued him all over the world, always coming within just a few moments or a few steps of seeing him. As she learned his every habit and motivation, she became increasingly captivated, and driven as much by a need to see his f...
