Twas you first told me it was love that built the Taj Mahal. And now, I'm telling you.
It couldn't begin to hold my heart's amount of love for you, still, after these decades, gone.
And the gardens of that Taj Majal built on love?
They could never yield a sweeter and fairer more tender blossom than the one whose stem God placed in my undeserving hands.
No edifice or landmark could ever hold a candle to the passion, desire's ravaged hunger I felt for you the day you knelt at Lanikai...used your hands to write in the sand...took two flowers from your hair and placed them gently down...then looked up...to whisper, "Yes."
Stories & Commentary | Fiction & Nonfiction
the unpredictable pencil of
needs to tell you a thing or six...
- Joe Gensle
- Stories Commentary Humor Drama Fantasy
Ideas sprout like wildflower seeds in an undiscovered meadow.
I calculate arrangements of words, the medium of artistic expression, here, colorizing language and dialect, and with visual regard for punctuation.
I seek a voice to find your ear or heart, hyperactivate your mind, challenge or bolster your values, aim at your deepest fears to electrify their vulnerabilities.
Your reaction is my reward, defines my success.
I give no less concentration or effort than you who paint, play piccolo, plant petunias or pan-fry potatoes.
"Words have weight, sound and appearance; it is only by considering these that you can write a sentence that is good to look at and good to listen to." Somerset Maugham
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Know I'm left-handed, Roman Catholic, conservative Republican and don't apologize for it. If that's a deal-breaker, build a bridge and get over it; if you have a problem with it, you're right: You've got a problem. To invite yourself out, hit "Next Blog," above.