S.S. David's Blog, page 18

The Miry Clay!

My hands got stuck in the clay

My skin melts into its blackness.

I became one with it!

I slouched through the mush of my decay.

I smelt the perfume of my horrors.

And wept at the snigger of the hollow.

I looked up and saw the light.

I clawed through the darkness.

I miffed through my tears and felt

The sorrow of the miry Clay.

****

My soul sniffed my shame.

My hands shook with defeat.

I struggled to save what was left,

But grasp empty air!

    Love looked me in the eyes and screamed.

Faithfulness hissed at my discomfort.

Hope staggered when I called.

Faith strolled past me in disgust.

Mercy held me close…

And I caught a glimpse of heaven.

I am, but a clay…

________________________________

Can love forgive all sins?

******

I wrote this poem when I heard the story of a woman whose husband repeatedly abused her, physically and emotionally. She was still willing to forgive him, she tried to make people see things through the eyes of her abusive husband, calling him the miry clay, insisting that he has issues!!!

 Well, this is me writing in the POV (point of view) of this vile man!  (By the way, she’s had a miscarriage as a result of the emotional trauma she’d been subjected to)

And believe me, it was difficult trying to know what goes through the mind of such a horrible man! It’s sad that so many women (and sometimes men!) are stranded in abusive relationships, and the heart wrenching part is when the abused tried to explain the irrational behaviours of their partners! I know we cannot be overly protective of our loved ones, but intervening subtly can really prevent tragedies.

One way is by speaking to the abuser, encouraging him/her to seek help for his/her anger, but it’s easier said than done.

The crux of the matter is, how would you know that you’re falling in love with a monster? And, is there hope for the violent?

These are difficult questions to answer and I won’t even try but from my little office in London, I wish you, my friends, a peaceful, love filled weekend!!

Much love, always!

Filed under: Friends, Life, Marriage And Family Life., Musings, Poetic Thoughts Tagged: Abused, Anger, Depression, Family, Hatred, Home, Love, Marriage, Relationships, Selfishness, Selflessness

What Is Our LIfe!

”WHAT is our life? A play of passion,

Our mirth the music of division,

Our mothers’ wombs the tiring-houses be,

”Where we are dressed for this short comedy,

Heaven the judicious sharp spectator is,

That sits and marks still who doth act amiss.

Our graves that hide us from the searching sun

Are like drawn curtains when the play is done.

Thus march we, playing, to our latest rest.

Only we die in earnest, that’s no jest.”

SIR WALTER RALEIGH (1554-1618)

I love Sir Walter Raleigh‘s poems, it’s poignant, somewhat melancholic but true. He hits the cord in the right places for me, and in a way, I want to be reminded of my fallibility, hence, my love for this morbid poem (so says my friend) Life is deceitfully short but our footsteps can still lead to great things if we so wish! My only prayer is, may generations yet unborn, write our stories well.

Have a great week ahead!

Much love, always.

Filed under: Friends, Life, Musings, Poems, Poetic Thoughts Tagged: Death, Exploration, Explorers, Heaven, History, Life, Mirth, Music, New World, Passion, Play, Raleigh North Carolina, WALTER RALEGH, Walter Raleigh, Works

Stranded At Santum Close (5)

(Photo credit: Marabelo)

Even such is time, which takes in trust

Our youth, our joy, and all we have,

And pays us but with age and dust;

Who in the dark and silent grave,

When we have wandered all our ways,

Shuts up the story of our days:

Apart from which earth, and grave, and dust,

The Lord shall raise me up, I trust.

Linda repeated Sir Walter Ralegh‘s poem ‘Epitaph’ over and over again as she watched the body of her assailant self-combust. It all started with a strange shadow falling in front of her snarling attacker, who fell down immediately and began to shake uncontrollably, foaming in the mouth. She struggled to release herself but it was futile, she persisted and only succeeded in falling back, hitting her head on the tiled floor. She gritted her teeth in frustration, staring hard at the ceiling and wondered what she would do next and that was when she began to choke.

Linda dragged herself away slowly, so she could see what was happening and her heart stopped in her mouth, her attacker had been reduced to ashes, save for his lower limbs and shoes, he was burnt out. She whimpered as she struggled feverishly, rolling to her side, she managed to stand to her feet but with her hands still tied back, it was very painful. Sweating profusely, Linda refused to look at the ashes on the floor, the only thing on her mind was freedom.

Outside, a  little girl skipped along the slippery sidewalk, her long blonde hair dancing with the wind, her short, pleated skirt swirled around her knees. The smell of rain and rotting leaves hung heavily in the air. She stopped suddenly and a chuckle escaped her pink lips when she saw a black BMW parking beside her.

She stared at the shrivelled old man on the back seat.

Bernstein Joel Bonnke tried to smile but it ended in a grimace and he put his bony hands on his parched lips, he knew that he looked awful.

The driver of the BMW got out, a tall, lean, bony man with bushy eyebrows. The man opened the door for Bernstein, who stepped out like royalty, his eyes still firmly trained on the girl, who curiously, was still staring at him. The leafy street was deserted at that time of the day, it was mid afternoon, and Bernstein was glad for the privacy.

He approached the inquisitive little girl, a fixed smile on his gaunt face.

‘How are you my lady?’

‘I am fine, you don’t look well, are you ill?’ she asked, her blue eyes searching Bernstein’s face. And he felt uncomfortable under her piecing gaze, his visit to London was meant to be a quick one, he doesn’t want to leave any trace or clues if he could help it.

‘Yes my dear, old age is my disease,’ he answered smoothly and reached for her head, she allowed him ruffled her hair for a few seconds, then without warning,  a chill went through his body, it was akin to an electric current. He removed his hand quickly and scampered away, his body guards glared at the girl but she was unperturbed. She watched as they all entered the last house on the street, she could not move and her eyes never left the end of terrace house.

‘Amber!’

Someone called her, and she turned her attention to the petite woman standing on the front porch of the house across the street, it was her mother. She skipped towards her, there was a wild look on her face.

‘Mama, are you okay?’ Amber asked anxiously.

There was no sound and her mother later screamed in reply. Amber turned to look at what had upset her so. What she saw turned her blood to ice.

*****************************

Gordon held his sons close, the tears refused to fall. He was still in shock. He had just come in from the police station. The police had interviewed him all night, and they had interrogated each of his sons as well, though they stated blandly that they were merely following procedures but Gordon knew better. The bullet that killed his twenty-three year old son was the exact replica of the bullets he used for his semi automatic assault rifle. He was mourning for his son, praying that his wife would return home safely and trying to prove his innocence and that of his sons.

It was a horrible way to live.

Luke, Gabriel, and Peter moved away from their father’s embrace, the tragedy of Eliza’s death was still fresh and with the police breathing down their necks, they were practically living in hell. The police seemed to be hounding them than pitying them.

Luke stood up and went to his room, he’d hardly spoken a word since he heard the news. Gabriel stood up and sauntered to the window, then turned back abruptly and said with clenched teeth,

‘You caused these entire problems dad! If mom hadn’t disappeared, Eliza would still be alive now!’

Gordon thought about Gabriel’s accusations and replied calmly,

‘Eliza’s death had nothing to do with your mother’s disappearance. I believe he was killed because of the contents of your mother’s diary.’

‘How do you mean?’ asked Gabriel shrewdly, his dowdy appearance further heightened by the stubble on his jaw. At twenty, his life peaked too soon. He bagged a first class honours degree in Engineering from the University of York but sadly, was not keen to do anything else but smoke cannabis all day, a habit that had put him at loggerheads with his mother. Gordon also suspected that Gabriel was jealous of Eliza’s success.

Eliza was running his property business, and doing a good job of it. After college, he had refused to go to the University; rather, he had leached on to him, following him to auctions. Within months, Eliza had bought three properties, renovated the houses, and made a profit of more than three hundred thousand pounds.

Gordon was a proud father.

‘There were some things in your mother’s diary that Eliza saw, I was certain he was shocked when he did. He gave the diary to me and shortly after that, he was killed.’

‘Where’s the diary?’ Gabriel asked quietly.

‘I have given it to the police,’ Gordon said carefully, looking at his son, ‘they believe the contents of the diary was behind the death of Eliza and could be behind your mother’s disappearance, hopefully, the diary would clear our names.’

Gabriel locked eyes with his father, and Gordon shuddered with fear. It was the cold, ruthless eyes of a killer.

Who in heaven’s name is Gabriel Leonhard! Gordon thought with a deep sigh, he wondered when the nightmare would end.

********************

My publisher, Arrow Gate, has indicated their interest in this story, so I am afraid, this would be the last post on this story! But if anyone is interested to know more about the mystery and intrigue surrounding the Leonhard’s family and the grotesque Bernstein Joel Bonnke, you can subscribe to my newsletter and when the novel is released next summer, you’ll be the first to get a copy.

NP: July has been a special month for me, I signed up for WordPress on 17th of July, 2012 and my first post was on the 31st of July 2012. So it’s exactly a year ago that I started this blog, although I didn’t start serious blogging until mid October, it’s been a great journey so far. I have made great friends and didn’t regret starting this blog.

I also celebrated 13 years of wedded bliss to my sweet husband Kay! It’s been a great month!! (He refused to have his picture taken, he’s so shy! ) I hope you all had something to celebrate… the gift of life!!!

I love and respect you all, you’re all awesome!

Much love, always!

Filed under: Blogging, Books, Fiction, Friends, Life, Poems

Secrets And Skeletons

 (Photo credit: Ugadew)

 Secrets and skeletons skipping in my room.

I dodged their fiery gaze and pretended not to see.

‘Can’t be kept in forever!’ They hollered.

Still, I pretended not to hear.

‘When the time is right, I’ll let you out!’

I surmised.

This is a funny poetic thought for me, sometimes we deliberately keep secrets, sometimes we don’t, but just find out that some things are best kept in the dark for a while. Do you have secrets? (in retrospect I don’t think I do) And what is your worse kept secret? If you have one do let me know. Enjoy today, and the rest of your week!

Much love, always.

 

Filed under: Blogging, Friends, Life, Musings, Poetic Thoughts Tagged: Decisions, Friendship, IntenseDebate, Life, Secrets, Skeleton

To hold….

To hold against all odds.

To love against all odds.

‘Let’s make love, not war,’

‘If only these were the wishes of the majority,’

said the wrinkled old lady.

‘Well,’ quipped the husband,

‘The earth will explode with love then,’

And he smiled.

Well this weekend, I hope we’ll all make love (erm… in whatever form, it doesn’t have to be the real thing … you know what I mean! ), and not war, I hope we’ll all smile and not frown, I sincerely wish we’ll all be happy and not sad, because according to C.S Lewis, ‘Affection is responsible for nine-tenths of whatever solid and durable happiness is there in our lives!’ I guess, I shouldn’t say more.

Have a love filled weekend my dear friends!

Much love, always!

Filed under: Friends, Life, Marriage And Family Life., Motivation, Musings, Poetic Thoughts Tagged: Affection, Arts, CS Lewis, Joy, Life, Love, Online Writing, Poetry, Relationships, Romance

Stranded At Santum Close (4)

(Photo credit: jtkunley)

The man fell down with a  heavy swoop, hitting the ground like a bomb, his eyes turned red and Linda screamed, staring at her assailant in shock.

*****************************

A day after Linda’s disappearance, Gordon was desperate to find answers and he decided to check his wife’s things. He rummaged through the contents of the drawers in their room as sweat poured from his agitated body in torrents. He threw his wife’s clothes on the floor, looking around with a deranged glint in his eyes and swore softly under his breath. His gaze swept the room clean and he shook his head in despair, he was sure he had checked everywhere.

Eliza appeared at the doorway with arms akimbo and his demeanour spelt trouble but Gordon was not in the mood for his arguments.

‘Dad, what do you think you’re doing?’

Gordon sighed in defeat and answered, ‘I am looking for clues son, anything that could show me what to do!’ Eliza considered that, came inside the room, then sat down on the bed.

‘I found mom’s diary on the table when she left for work yesterday, she must have forgotten it, you might find some answers there.’ ‘Eliza said quietly, his eyes sad. Gordon took the blue diary from him and held it to his heart.

‘Thanks son, I’ll see if I can find anything in it.’

Eliza nodded and left the room and the next thing Gordon heard was a deafening sound as gunshots erupted outside his bedroom, he heard stomping footsteps and his heart broke into a million fragments.  Disregarding his own safety, Gordon bolted out of the room after his son, but it was too late. Eliza was lying on the corridor with blood pouring out of his chest wound.

‘No!!!’ Gordon yelled and held his son close to his chest, weeping uncontrollably. He gently laid him back, ran into his room, yanked open the door of his walk in wardrobe, picked up one of his semi automatic rifles, and strode out of his room, darting downstairs but there was no one around. Minutes later, sounds of siren tore down his street and Gordon finally realized, that  his life was rapidly going downhill.

Three police officers alighted from their cars, their gloomy eyes suggested they hated the sight of the grief ridden man whose house had become accursed.

************

I appreciate everyone who has followed this story thus far, the culminating part would be posted next week. Do continue to enjoy the rest of your week!

Much love, always.

Filed under: Blogging, Books, Fiction, Life, Short Story Tagged: Difficulties, Eliza, Family, Father, Fiction, Gordon, Hamburg, Hitting the Ground, Home, Life, Linda, Short story, Trials

Why Can’t I Fly?

 I read a brightly illustrated children’s book this morning titled, ’Why Can’t I Fly‘ by Ken Brown and I learnt a lot of lessons. The story is about a discontented ostrich who wanted to fly at all cost. Ostrich continually failed to appreciate his many good qualities, the only thing he cared about – is flying and he tried this repeatedly with disastrous results. He built himself a flying apparatus, yet, he failed still, then a miracle came, his efforts were rewarded when he tried again with his flying apparatus and he was flying, overjoyed, he yelled for his friends to see him flying, he wanted to prove to them that he could fly but lo and behold, his friends were nowhere to be found, why?

Because they were carrying his apparatus, all of them! And it made me realise that life is too complex to go at it alone, let’s not be like the Ostrich, who failed to realise his many good qualities, let’s surround ourselves with friends and loved ones. The life of a loner is a terrible one.

I hope you’ll all have a fun-filled week, as for me, I’m on the bed with my right feet swollen – I fell down the stairs yesterday on my way to church. It’s nothing serious, a pack of ice and some Ibuprofen has done the trick, the downside is I can’t  move around as such because I walk funny but the plus side is, I’m not going to work and the kids are on holiday! Hooray!!

Have fun and much love, always!

Filed under: Books, Fiction, Friends, Life, Motivation Tagged: Belief in self, Books, Children's literature, Confidence, Faith, Family, Friendship, Hope, Life, Ostrich, Recreation

Dancing In The Wind…

Majestic, in bloom, in glory!

Full, proud, ever-present?

Completely nonchalant,

to the groaning of the grass.

Dancing in the wind

With the brides of breeze.

Gaily, pouting, showing of!

‘How beautiful I look!’

Thought the flower.

‘And how quickly you fade…’ scoffed the grass.

‘You’re just jealous of my beauty!’ the flower screeched.

‘No, am not,’ replied the grass, ‘it’s just the law of nature.’

‘Huh!’

**************

Well… flowers fades, beauty fades (in humans), and I reckon the flower in the this short poetic musing is apparently enjoying itself (?) And the grass is ‘apparently’ telling ‘it’ off. More like life, be happy for those who are happy and show compassion for the weak, that’s just my take on it.

My kids are on holiday in a few hours, a week early, their school is constructing extra classrooms due to the ever-expanding London population. I’m not dreading it, they would hopefully, help me read my mountainous manuscripts! I now have a whole month off from my grumpy editor, Barbara! (she’ll probably kill me if she reads this!)

I appreciate your friendship guys, may you find peace this weekend. Enjoy today dear friends and have a great weekend!

NP: I rarely do this but do buy a few copies of ‘Tales OF Five Lies’ if you love psychological thrillers, you can get it on this link:  http://www.amazon.co.uk/Tales-Five-Lies-Sandra-David/dp/147932132X/ref=tmm_pap_title_0  or just click on the cover on the sidebar. It’s less than a pound, and a quick summer read and if you’re in the States, it’s less than 99cents, or better still, go for the full length novel, which a reviewer  described as, ‘ a fluid and enjoyable read,’

‘The Feet Of Darkness,’ http://www.amazon.co.uk/The-Feet-Of-Darkness-ebook/dp/B00BJ6LJHC/ref=tmm_kin_title_0?ie=UTF8&qid=1374233926&sr=1-1 (Amazon UK)

http://www.amazon.com/The-Feet-Of-Darkness-ebook/dp/B00BJ6LJHC (Amazon US) It’s also available on major online retailer and several brick and mortar shops!

My publisher, Arrow Gate, recently released a fantastic press release a few weeks back, you can check it and share please! http://www.prweb.com/releases/thefeetofdarkness/arrowgatepublishing/prweb10879291.htm

Much love, always.

Filed under: Books, Friends, Life, Musings, Poetic Thoughts, Publishers Tagged: Amazon.Com, Barnes & Noble, Brick and mortar, Feet Of Darkness, Grass, Jealousy, London, LOVE ALWAYS, Summer, United States

Stranded At Santum Close (3)

 

Linda sat demurely on a wooden chair with her hands tied to the back, she had tried to search for a way of escape, but there appeared to be none. She looked round and surmised that the room where she was kept was a loft conversion, it was empty and bare, the tiled floor gleamed and had a funny smell. Her head ached and a soft moan escaped her bruised lips. ‘It’s unbelievable that I could be abducted in broad daylight!’ she thought indignantly with a frown.

She’d just came out from St Paul underground station and was walking briskly towards her office at Little Britain when a black Sedan parked beside her and two men jumped out, one grabbed her by the wrist and the other expertly dragged her to the back of the car and they zoomed off. Everything happened within minutes, she screamed but one of the men closed her mouth roughly with a white handkerchief, and the next thing she knew was waking up and finding herself strapped to a wooden chair. Strangely, she was not scared but was certainly worried about the motive behind her kidnapping.

She sat in the middle of the room with her back to the door. Sunlight streamed down from the only window in the room, for that, she was grateful because she hated staying in the dark. She heard a key turning on the door and someone entered. Linda gritted her teeth silently and waited.

A man came into view and slapped her hard on the face, her head jerked backwards violently, as an involuntary sob escaped her. Linda swallowed hard and tasted blood, rage built up inside her but she knew the only way she could survive was to show no fear. She clamped down on her resolve to scream. Her assailant was around Eliza’s age, twenty-three but massive with a baby face and arms built like steel, his brown wavy hair looked out-of-place on his white pasty skin. He crouched low and spat out angrily,

‘You’ve got nowhere to hide woman, your secret is out!’

Linda stared at the man, her hands hurt like hell, but the only thing she saw was her husband’s angry face. She stared defiantly at her accuser and asked,

‘What do you want from me? Who are you? What secrets are you talking about?’

‘You are the Führer‘s descendant and must be cleansed!’

‘The Führer?’ And she scoffed but suddenly, the dingy room where they were began to spin, Linda almost vomited as memories flashed through her mind. The whisperings in the night, the surreptitious looks her parents sneakily threw her way while she was dating Gordon and the final sigh of relief when she finally got married and her mother called her aside and dropped the bombshell, she was adopted – and from that moment onwards, her life changed forever. She had hidden her true parentage from Gordon; there was no need to embark on a pilgrimage that would only end in tears.

‘My biological father died shortly after I was born, my mother died in a road accident in Vienna when I was two, that’s all I know.’

‘You liar!’ the man screamed and raised his right hand to strike again but he froze when a shadow crossed his path.

*************************************

I appreciate everyone who has read this story up till now, two more posts and it’s over – unless I changed my mind and turn it into a full length adult fiction but I’ve not decided yet, my hands are full as it is. The message in this story has to do with race, or our parentage. We can’t choose where we were born or to whom, so let’s just try to love one another in spite of our differences. Thanks so much for taking time to drop by!

Live well and love well!

Filed under: Books Tagged: Anger, Father, Führer, Gordon, Linda, Little Britain, Loft conversion, Race, Vienna

Shadows In The Spring

All that is gold does not glitter,

Not all those who wander are lost,

The old that is strong does not wither,

Deep roots cannot be reached by the frost,

.. from the ashes a fire shall be woken,

a light from the shadows shall spring.

Renewed shall be the blade that was broken.

The crownless again shall be king.”

By J.R.R Tolkien

I saw this quote on FB and it rang shrilly in my mind all day! The words are deep and in a way, I found the words hopeful, I hope you do too because everything is not as it seems, sometimes what you perceived to be a problem might actually be a blessing in disguise! My only wish for you this week my friends –  is strength, I hope you’ll have the strength to accomplish what you set out to do.

Have a fruitful and eventful week filled with love and laughter!

Your friend,

Seyi Sandra David.

Filed under: Friends, Life, Motivation, Musings, Poems, Poetic Thoughts Tagged: All that is gold does not glitter, Deep Roots, Faith, Friends, Hope, J. R. R. Tolkien, Joy, Laughter, Strength, Vision