Barred

At the close of this Pride month, let’s take a moment to remind ourselves how necessary it continues to be.

A fiction monologue.

What day is it tomorrow? Thursday. No… Friday? … Wait, wasn’t it a Sunday when this all started? Can’t be bothered to work backwards. Too long ago. Makes my head hurt for no purpose. What’s the point in knowing anyway? Doesn’t make any difference. What you expecting, you stupid fucker? Fish on Friday? A Sunday roast?

[Sigh]

Can’t see my calendar marks in the dark. Don’t even know which wall they’re on in this all-enveloping blackness. Can’t even see the measly, barred excuse for a window. Not surpising really, given how high up it is. And it doesn’t exactly give a view of the sky. Just another sodding stone wall. Dingy grey murk is the new sunlight. Almost forgotten what yellow is. Colour in general. Black is the absence of colour – remember that from school.

[Sigh]

Hang on… thought there was to be no more sighing? Doesn’t help, does it? Continue reading

Anthem for Pride

Is there within the human frame
some enmity in-built
to ambiguity which came
with Adam decked in guilt?
Why beg for black and white
when all the garden seems aglow
with every color of the 'bow
that shines beneath the light?

So furious do moderns rail
at polysemous man;
rejected, quite beyond the pale,
for straying from the plan
so fervently compelled
by generations long grown cold,
their photographs now cracked and old,
yet thoughtlessly upheld.

For what in earth or heav'n above
surpasses in its scope
abundant, many-colored love
which shines with radiant hope
on all who breathe the air
and sing whatever song their soul
was giv'n at birth to make them whole,
the darkness to repair. 

Copyright, June 2021, Parker Owens. All of Parker's work can be found at GayAuthors.org.

Over the Moon – Part 3

Isaac not only has to fight the moon’s attraction but also the pull from the mysterious singer. Who is he?

Catch up at Over the Moon – Part 1 and Over the Moon – Part 2 .

Isaac could have ambled up to his room at the hotel, pulled down the covers and attempted sleep. Instead, he felt an inexorable pull in another direction. Isaac glanced across the highway, and experienced a kind of tightening in his gut.

That singer was there. No. Not happening. Isaac debated with himself.

The seriously hot singer with the magnetic baritone was just over there. Hell, no. Just not going to do that.

He had to see him just once more. He could just slip in and out. Just for a second. Are you crazy? Did you forget what happened the last time? Isaac’s mind yelled at him even as his feet were taking him across four lanes of pavement.

As Isaac pulled open the bar door, half his mind was at war with the other. What the hell are you doing here? Get out and go to bed. He could do this. He could keep control this time. He just couldn’t explain why he had to be there to himself – but he did.

The man he sought wasn’t there. At least, the space where the singer had been previously was unoccupied. Continue reading

Over the Moon – Part 2

By chance, Isaac Goldeneye finally sees a man he’s attracted to. So what does he do? He runs. The opening part of this story can be found here: Over the Moon – Part 1 if you missed it.

Isaac could barely function the next morning. Physically and emotionally spent from his unexpected shift, he collapsed into bed. But Isaac didn’t sleep well. His dreams featured a beautiful, tortured face, black eyes that knew everything, and a voice that echoed down the hallways of his mind.

“Jeez, Isaac, you okay today?” Jake asked for the umpteenth time. Once again, Isaac had misread an ID code on the side of a box.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just didn’t sleep well last night.”

“You said that yesterday,” the big man joked.

Isaac shrugged and grunted something unintelligible. He felt like snapping something sarcastic back, but he didn’t have the energy. Besides, half his mind was distracted by the vision of man in a checked shirt. Continue reading

Over the Moon – Part 1

Isaac Goldeneye is a lonely man who carries some heavy secrets with him wherever he goes. He’s always on the road. He lives through his tough, lonely job, too busy or preoccupied to hear what’s going on in his heart. But maybe he’s ready to listen.

Isaac Goldeneye sighed deeply as he pulled his rental car into the darkened grocery store parking lot. He pulled a hand over his face trying to wipe away the weariness. He got out and headed inside. It had been a long day in a strange town, and Roswell, New Mexico, seemed stranger than most. Isaac needed something to eat. In the deli area, he found some pre-packaged sushi, a few shrimp spring rolls, and a salad.

The pleasant girl at the checkout smiled at him. Girls often did, to his discomfort. “Dinner for one tonight?”

“Yeah. Didn’t feel like cooking.”

“In a hurry?”

“No, just visiting town. Staying in a motel.”

“Looking for UFO’s?” the girl grinned at him.

“Sorry. I do HazMat work. I clean up toxics and explosives. I’m working a contract for Amalgamated Drilling west of town.”

“You are not. I can see right through you,” she joked.

Isaac looked up, startled, and stared at her with pale amber eyes. He seriously hoped she didn’t mean it. He never liked to share his secrets.

All the humor drained out of the girl’s face, stunned by the combination of his eyes and Native American features. “Sorry,” she muttered, “I didn’t mean anything by that.”

Isaac tried to relax. “No problem. It’s been a long day.”

He paid, and carried the bag containing his supper out to the car. He wondered if he would be able to resist tearing into his purchases the moment he got in. Isaac was hungry – ravenous. The strain of the last few weeks – no, months – was telling on him. Continue reading

Time warp

Days pass
One by one, no
Rhythm, no urge to get
Things done, no 'I'll meet you later'
Half-staring at phantoms
Disconnected
Apart

Weeks pass
Punctuated
By friends' calls, diaried 
Social engagements heralding
Virtual companions
Distanced giggles
Deep joy

Months pass
The world unlocks
Tentatively, yearning
For normal lives filled with days of
Gossip, coffee, shopping
Carefree laughter
Freedom

© 2021, Northie

Another my attempts at responding to a NaPoWriMo prompt. This one was concerning you know what. 

April à la carte

Apéritif
Sparkling water (mini ice pellets optional)
Rainbow shower (umbrella not necessary)

Starter
Curried spring vegetables (fresh from Tesco)
flavoured with saffron
Candied quail eggs (no chocolate here)

Entrée
Rabbit loin (one less floppy-eared bunny to munch your seedlings)
Lamb shank (strange, the disconnect between meat and what gambols in the fields)
Woodpigeon breast (stuffed daily for cooing, courting, and duels at dawn) 
all served with fresh greens and edible flowers

Sorbet
Magnolia-scented snow (soon disappears)

Dessert
Nectar-infused ices (the bee's knees)
Rhubarb fool (we cleared out the freezer in preparation for the new crop)
Spiced dried fruit and peels (who needs the rest?)

Digestif
Cherry blossom pink gin (delicate and easily downed)
Green leaf tea (vibrant and uplifting)

© 2021, Northie

Another NaPoWriMo effort. This time to a prompt to ‘celebrate April’.

This poem…

This poem is
Instant brainfreeze
Vacant mind devoid of
Words 

This poem is
Tuition unlearnt  
Both metre, rhythm, and
Voice

This poem is
Muscle memory
Slowly wheezing into
Action

This poem is
Synapses stalling
Imagination boost
Required

This poem is
Joy rediscovered
Melding whims and wisps into
Craft

© 2021, Northie

I lack the discipline to attempt NaPoWriMo properly, but sometimes, it does stir my poetic brain into action. The prompt for this was ‘This poem’.

Image by Couleur from Pixabay

April Sonnet

An April sonnet to celebrate renewal.

An empty heart will never beat as fast
as drums which beat delirious and free
or wings of certain birds you hardly see,
for all its liveliness is surely past,
its optimism vacant, spent, downcast
and destitute of argument or plea,
the mind a treeless scrubland full of scree,
a hollow, blank lacuna, void and vast.
If such a heart could make itself to feel,
perchance to sense a momentary pain;
an ache, perhaps; discomfort at a meal,
or even some annoyance for the brain;
then hope remains, and nothing will conceal
the spring that spurs the heartsong after rain.

© Parker Owens, April 2017. 

This poem first appeared on Gay Authors . 

Any comments you may wish to make are always welcome.