Posted tagged ‘Drama’

Three Books

August 30, 2013

Just finished and placed my third book on Amazon. I think I am ready to go back to work full time. I have a feeling boredom is just around the corner.

Get a chance check them out. These are approximate prices. With Amazon, you save several different ways and it depends a little on where you live.

 Read a few chapters at Amazon. If you are interested and want an autographed copy, send me an email with your address. All three will be $30.00 any two will be $25.00 and Bubba Jones or Killing in the Delta will be $15.0 each. Back Porch Dramas are $13.50 each.

This includes shipping anywhere in the good old USA. gartalker@yahoo.comTell me what you would like the autograph page to say. If you live in the area drop me, a line and I will get one to you.



November 29, 2009

As you know, I have been away from the key board for a few months.  I am now back again.  I thought I would start with a little September then maybe hit Halloween and even find some Thanksgiving to write about.  By then we should be close to Christmas.

 If this is your first visit, I say welcome.  If you are coming back after my sabbatical, I say welcome back.  Hope you find every thing to your liking.

 I am always happy to hear from any of you.



The Uninvited House Guest

G. Simmons

 The mantle clock has long since chimed 2:00 A.M.  The humidity refuses to give an inch.  Sleep has became a seldom-found treasure to me during this seasons of vexing.

I wandered aimlessly to the back porch after one final skirmish with my old enemy, melancholy.  Thinking, maybe the warm early morning air might help send him packing.

Each year he comes as an uninvited houseguest, making himself at home.  He lies next to me, making sure no sleep comes throughout the murky hours of darkness.  He takes my chair at the breakfast table and forbids me a bite.

He has visited me with his afflictions as long as I can remember.  As a child, I recollect sitting on my grandmother’s porch, one late September.  I was watching the waves of heat making their way down the little meandering road, floating lazily south.  Without warning, he appeared as if surfing the waves.  Then as now, he wore a crooked smile on his distorted face, his pants baggy with huge pockets.  That day to my dismay, I learned that was where he kept the blues.

 Just before daybreak this morning, he joined me on my back porch as I gaze upward into the heavens.

He whispered into my ear with his hot wet breath, “summer is dying.  I will put an end to her while you gaze idly into the celestials.  I will assassinate her, just like all the others.  There isn’t anything you can do to stop me.”  His words brought a gloom to my soul.

Without warning, he began to direct a strange drama that only I could see.  The trees reaching heavenly in my back yard were stripped naked and left shivering in a cold icy wind.  The grass begins to crunch and then gave way under my feet turning brittle.  It no longer could endure the freezing torture.  Even the moon becomes pale and shuddered as it witnesses this strange September morn.  I turned slowly back to my door with a tear in my eye. Thinking, surely nothing good comes from such a wicked night.