Quent Cordair's Blog, page 8

Thank you!

Thanks so much for each and every review! “A screenplay jihadists will hate and civilized people will love…. Set in Chicago during the holiday season, the story involves a conflict between Husam, a young Muslim man who takes Islam seriously, and his younger brother Jasim. The conflict escalates after Husam is handed a heavy bag by a bearded man and gets on a bus heading downtown…. How is the conflict resolved? In an immensely satisfying way—as fans of Cordair’s work would expect.” — Daniel Wa...

Again the Angels

Again the Angels

Again they called to heaven
When around them rose a hell;
Again the angels came from earth
In answer to the bell.
The hands that pulled them from the flood
Were human, each and all;
And yet they thanked the god they thought
Had made the rain to fall.

Eclipsed

Eclipsed

Their dance was interrupted
As the handmaid slipped between,
With silent glide, as was her way,
Her creases pressed and clean—
“Pray suffer but a moment, ma’am,
Then I’ll be on my way;
You’ll have him back for seven years
Through each and every day.”
With graceful curiosity
The wife let go his hand
And marveled as his aura’s light
Around the maid did band.
Her blackness moved against his white,
The stars and planets awed,
Till wife in wondering twilight thought
Her wisdom might be fl...

I used to live in Charlottesville

I used to live in Charlottesville. Today I’m reminded of this: “All of humanity was reforming into packs, each pack for protection against the others, with the barking and baying growing louder as the collectives circled, sizing each other up. Disassociated individuals were viewed warily, with suspicion, branded as a danger. If you aren’t for us, you must be against us. Choose! In the press and on social media, behind the slanted headlines and sniping innuendo, the snapping and snarling were...

Character

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A Call to Stand

A Call to Stand

One man at war with Man’s deprecation
Calls out to all men to seek no salvation,
To pick themselves up from self-immolation,
To turn from the gods of their own creation,
To stand up and face the day—
To reclaim their birthright to say—
I am that I am, before nothing I kneel;
I mastered the fire, invented the wheel;
I cast the bells true and set them to peal;
I am Man, for whom all else is clay—
I am Man. I make my own way.

 

~ Quent Cordair

 

The Soul, Hungry and Restless

The soul, hungry and restless, Lives and moves ever ahead, Traversing the desolate wastes, Probing the uncharted wilderness That lies between the heart And the heart’s desire, Ever hopeful of finding A way.

Sovereign

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For Memorial Day, a short story

The Sculpture That Won the War

by Quent Cordair

From a letter to a sculptor
Sept 27, 2001

From the Lunch Break collection

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 an...

Manchester

Again comes the cry, again comes the mourn,
Clutched fingers in hair over flowers forlorn;
Candles all lit till the night wetly glows,
Coffins wrapped neatly in black satin bows.

Shadows beg mercy where mercy’s unknown,
Prayers and peace offerings all fruitlessly sown,
The desperately hoping more love will suffice
For those taking no less than blood sacrifice.

There’s left but one answer to those who love death,
Whose sword demands kneeling until the last breath,
Those blinded to reason, fai...