Tuesday, March 10, 2026

Welcome To My Blog

To help you select the stories and poetry you might want to read, below is the list of all posts made to my blog since its inception. Posts are listed in chronological order from the first post made on April 18, 2019, until the most recent post (The most recent post appears first on the blog). Please browse the list of posts to find the titles that most intrigue you. Then do one of the following:

1. Place the title of the post in the space beneath the header, “Search This Blog.” With regard to poetry, a post may contain more than one poem. You may have to insert the first two poems listed to find what you want. Then click on search. The posting should appear at the top of the screen for you to read. Or . . .

2. Using the date a particular posting was made, go to the “Blog Archive” to the right of the posts and click on the particular month in which the poem or short story was posted and scroll down until you find what you would like to read. Please note that if you scroll through all the posts on the screen and don’t find what you are looking for, below the last post on the screen, on the right, are the words, “Older Posts.” Click on this and you will find the additional posts made during the particular month you have selected. Scroll through these until you find the story or poem you wish to read.

Enjoy the journey, as you read the creations of my heart and my mind.

Thank you.

Alan

Alan Lowe
Poet and Writer

slolowe@icloud.com

https://slolowe44.blogspot.com/

You make mistakes you hope will not ruin your future. You wish for forgiveness.

However, it appears you may have to pay the price for your misdeeds. When your world seems to be falling apart, in walks . . .

Ms. Fix-it

Dark, gray clouds blanketed the sky. The early morning temperature dropped below 40°F. Six “criminals” sat in a row in a bleak room facing an empty chair—the chair of the person who would straighten out their lives.

Quivering, they awaited the presence of the “Goddess” who would help them make amends for the crimes they’d perpetrated and be free again to enter a world of their dreams. They’d never planned to be caught, but they were.

Meesha gazed at the ceiling, with tears in her eyes, for she had committed “murder”—killing a creature who’d brought joy to others. “I’ll never do it again,” she moaned. “I promise.” But could she be trusted?

Alexander focused his attention on the ceiling light blowing in the wind coming into the room from an open window, providing a chill that caused him to pray, for he had preyed upon others who didn’t deserve it. “Oh, Lord, forgive me for my sins, for I stole from the poor to fulfill my own desires. Please, God, listen to me.”

Justin held his head in his hands. He hadn’t planned on committing a crime. He never thought he would leave the scene of an accident, which was his fault. His vehicle smashed into a car parked in the parking lot. And he raced away. Moving his head back and forth in his hands, he muttered, “I should’ve stayed there. Or at least reported it. But I needed to get out of there—be free. However, there were cameras in the parking lot and . . .”

Diana held her breath, hoping to make what she expected to happen disappear. She’d hurt a friend, a very close friend. She hated social media, but Lucy had pissed her off and she had to get back at her—make her pay for her sins. So she did. She posted words that would change Lucy’s life in the meanest of ways. She wrote, “Lucy, you are a witch who needs to be cursed and destroyed. Nobody should ever think you’re good again, for you embarrassed me and, in return, I’m taking away your perfect life.”

Sammy sat silently and stared off into space. A quiet guy, he murmured, “Not me. I didn’t do it. At least not on purpose. They shouldn’t have left the door open. Maybe I shouldn’t have gone in, but I did. I didn’t know she’d be naked. I didn’t know.”

Sweet Kennedy smiled, for she felt she’d get away with just a slap on the hand. She could handle that. She’d just borrowed the key to the storeroom. Curiosity got the best of her, and she went in and walked out with something that intrigued her. But the security guard was standing outside the door when she exited. “I’m going to put it back. I’m going to put it back. Just give me a chance,” she shrieked. However, he didn’t listen.

What they were facing they didn’t know. Would they just get released on their own recognizance? Or would they pay for their misbehavior with a punishment they believed they didn’t deserve. And they thought, Why are six of us here together. We have nothing to do with each other—absolutely nothing.

“How long do we have to stay here?” Alexander asked.

“Who knows?” Meesha responded.

“Let’s just leave,” Justin stated emphatically.

“If we do, they’ll come after us and bring us back, won’t they?” Diana asked, frustrated.

Sweet Kennedy smiled. “I have a plan,” she whispered.

“That’s going to get us into more trouble than we’re already in,” Sammy whined.

“Well, what’d you do, Sammy?” Meesha asked.

“It’s none of your business.”

“Maybe it is. If I knew, perhaps I could help.”

“No way, lady, am I going to share anything with you,” Sammy stated, with anger in his voice. Being someone who kept to himself, this was out of character.

If somebody doesn’t come in soon to start this party, I want to make my call,” Justin shouted.

“We haven’t been arrested, have we?” Diana queried.

“We might as well have been. We’ve been here for over two hours,” Meesha chanted.

“Is the security guard still at the door?” Sweet Kennedy questioned.

“Yeah, I think so. I see a shadow in the door window,” Alexander answered.

“I hear voices in the hallway,” Justin said, with some concern.

“Can anyone make out what they’re saying?” Meesha inquired.

“No, they’re talking very softly,” Diana stated.

Then there was silence. Nobody moved. They sat and waited for someone to enter the room. It seemed like hours had passed, and then the door began to squeak.

The crew of six, seated rigidly in their seats, focused their eyes in the direction of the door. It slid open and Ms. Delaney sauntered in, accompanied by the security guard. The guard moved to the rear of the room and stood there poised to act, if needed.

“Let me have your attention, please,” Ms. Delaney stated.

With their eyes focused on the front of the room, all six “criminals” listened anxiously for what was coming next. They had no idea what to expect.

“Hello. I’m not sure any of you know why you had to be here today. And I’m sorry you had to wait so long. But my previous meeting ran longer than expected.”

“We all did something wrong. Didn’t we?” Sweet Kennedy asked.

“What are you talking about?” Ms. Delaney responded.

“Didn’t you arrest us?” Sammy queried. “The security guard brought us here.”

“Well, yes, I asked him to. But arrested, no. I need your help.”

“With what? And why us?” all six inquired in unison.

“Your teachers nominated you to be on our new student futuristic council.”

“New what?” Alexander yelled.

“A leadership council to help fix what is broken at our school. Not things, but rules and regulations that may not be working as well as they should be. I did this a number of years ago and it made things a lot better. That’s how I became ‘Ms. Fix-it.’ Now times have changed and we have to see what needs to be done to make our school better, as we move into the future.”

What had just happened rattled the minds of the six students in ways they didn’t expect. And . . .

Meesha thought, but I killed that beautiful frog in biology class. She admitted this and felt better.

Alexander mumbled, “I did take that dollar bill I found on the street that was meant for the hobo asking for money.” He went back to the same street and placed three dollars in a poor man’s hand.

Justin believed, my bicycle did scratch that car in the school parking lot. I was wrong to leave without reporting it. Finding the car, he left a note on the windshield with his phone number.

Diana murmured, “What can I do to make Lucy feel better?” She called and apologized.

Sammy admitted he was wrong to have walked through that open door, but he mumbled, “Then I discovered the naked woman on the other side was a stripper.”

And Sweet Kennedy did put back what she had taken from the storeroom.

Therefore, none of the six would serve time in prison. Being on the council the following year made each of them responsible for making their school a better place. And they all graduated, went on to college, and never committed another “crime.”

Friday, February 27, 2026

Aging comes with a price. Is it worth the cost?

Is giving up, the right move to make? Or should you make an effort to continue the fight, as . . .

A Future Awaits

I awoke early in the morning and looked around.

The room was quiet and dark.

I blinked my eyes and listened, but didn’t hear a sound.

I tried to move my legs, but they were frozen in place.

My arms wouldn’t budge and my neck was stiff.

The bodily pain I felt could be seen in the look upon my face.

I’d come to a bridge, one I had to cross.

I grimaced, afraid of what came next.

For answers to my questions, I was at a loss.

But it wasn’t time to give up the fight.

I couldn’t believe I’d made it this far.

And I knew there was more to come, for I could see the light.

Could I navigate the road ahead with pride?

Alone, lonely, and sometimes confused, I didn’t know.

However, I did know I’d be in for a bumpy ride.

I looked within to find the courage to go on.

It was my only chance to survive the journey ahead.

I needed to be strong, for I didn’t want to see, my life gone.

Friday, February 20, 2026

You want a quiet, peaceful life in retirement. But you may not get what you want.

Sometimes what you’ve done earlier in life can come back to haunt you, as is the case in . . .

Her Name Was Ella

Living on Liberty Lane could be a nightmare. Neighbors knew each other, but didn’t seem to get along. People screaming and screeching car brakes were a way of life from which no one could escape. In this neighborhood of irritable souls, it was hard to be accepted.

Rhonda stood staring out her living room window in her senior community, dreaming of a future that was peaceful and quiet. She murmured, “I deserve better than this. I’m a good person. This isn’t what I wanted.”

A prisoner in a world without bars. Fearful of what the future might hold. Afraid of taking a chance. Could her sentence be reduced?

Would she live in fear the rest of her life? But, in reality, she didn’t have a life. How can I stand up to the unfriendliness on my street, she thought. “I’ve got to do it,” she moaned.

Then there was a knock on the door—soft and gentile. Rhonda moved with caution into the hallway. She reached for the doorknob, but before touching it, she pulled her hand away. The fear she felt was overwhelming.

Another knock—softer and gentler than the first—caused her to believe she could do this. She held the knob in her hand and turned it. She took two steps back, as she pulled the door open.

Sitting on the stoop was a package, decorated in bright yellow paper and red and blue ribbons. Do I dare touch it, she thought.

In the ten years she’d lived on Liberty Lane, she’d never received a gift like this. But was it a gift? Or could it be something that would destroy her life in an unspeakable way? And did she dare try to find out?

Quivering, she moved toward the package and began to reach down to pick it up. And then . . .

“Don’t touch it!” a mysterious voice from out of nowhere shouted.

Rhonda jumped back and looked around, but saw nobody. Believing this was all in her head, she decided to give it another try. But, as she did . . .

“No, you can’t do it! You’ll be sorry if you do,” the voice echoed in her head.

“What did I do to deserve this? I’m sixty-five years old and I keep to myself. I try not to hurt other people,” she muttered.

“But maybe you have,” the voice whispered.

“How can that be? Before I retired to this godforsaken street, I was a respected teacher, poet, and author. And then I came here. I’m almost invisible on this block.”

“Yes, almost,” the voice stated emphatically.

“What do you mean by that?”

No answer. Her world became silent. The voice disappeared. Rhonda stood in dismay. And then shook in agony, as she heard the screeching of car brakes and the screaming of a woman, “You bastard. Didn’t you see the stop sign? You almost killed me.”

Rhonda slammed the door, leaving the gift package sitting in the sun, but with a shadow cast upon it. She feared what might come next and didn’t know if she could handle it.

Confused and afraid, she ambled into the living room and collapsed on the couch. She picked up her legs, now feeling like dead weights, and placed them on the ottoman. Still shaking, she tried to get comfortable. But leaving the package on the front porch bothered her. I should get it, she thought.

As she began to get up from the couch, the phone rang. She reached over and picked it up off the end table. “Hello,” she said.

A familiar voice, the one playing games with her head, stated, “Rhonda, you must face your demons.”

“Face my what?” Rhonda asked, not knowing where the conversation was headed.

“The past that is upsetting the present,” the voice replied.

“I don’t have a clue what you mean.”

“Did you do something wrong that might have upset these eighty-year-old neighbors of yours?”

“Huh, why would you ask such a question?”

“Because it is one you must answer,” the voice stated emphatically.

“Who are you anyway, and why do you care?” Rhonda queried.

“I am your voice of reason and you need to listen to me.”

“I’ve had it with you. I’m going to get the package and find out what this is all about.”

Rhonda pushed the off button on the phone, rolled off the couch, and headed to the front door. Opening it, she peered at the nicely wrapped box and wondered how finding out what was inside might change her life.

It seemed like hours passed, as she tried to muster up the courage to approach the unknown. Another car screeched down the street and swerved toward her. She glared at it. The man behind the wheel stuck his head out the window and shouted, “What are you looking at, lady? Just mind your own business.”

She wanted to yell back at him and say, “This is my house and I can look at whatever I want to,” but she kept her cool and her mouth shut. He drove on without further altercation.

With her eyes now focused on the package, she bent down and picked it up. She felt something move ever so slightly, but it didn’t alarm her.

“Are you ready for this?” the voice asked.

“You’re back?”

“No. I never left. Sit down before you do this,”

For some reason, she listened. Carrying the box, she closed the door and went into the kitchen. She placed it on the table and sat down. Carefully, she untied the ribbons and removed the wrapping paper. Then, almost in slow motion, she took the top off the box.

“Remember, I’m here for you,” the voice stated in a supportive manner.

Why this calmed her down, she didn’t understand. Removing the packaging, what appeared was a book—a book she’d written when she was forty-five years old. The title jumped out at her, “Old Folks—People I’d Never Want to Be,” written by Ella James, her pseudonym.

Postscript: Old Folks—People I’d Never Want to Be by Ella James

The old folks in the audience clap in praise.
The amazing show leaves them in a daze.

When their enjoyment at last abates,
They rush to the bathroom as if on roller skates.

They love the actors up on the stage floor,
But appreciate getting to the toilet in time even more.

Although I never want to die, old is not what I want to be.

How these old folks navigate through life is a mystery to me.

Tuesday, February 10, 2026

Do you have the power to change things? Will people listen to you?

You’re not sure. And then the opportunity arises and you leave them . . .

With Tears In Their Eyes

This story takes place in recent time.

It’s about a kind young man

who sat on a street corner spouting rhyme.

His words danced merrily through the air

as people walked by,

some amused, others confused, and some didn’t care.

Dressed in blue overalls and a red top,

sometimes he’d recite his wise words

and at other times he’d sing, hoping people would stop.

The look in his eyes showed a love of his land,

as the warmth in his heart

caused some passersby to smile, while others didn’t understand.

One bleak day, when the sun didn’t shine,

the young fellow sat alone on the curb,

with sadness in his heart, as he drank from a bottle of wine.

Tormented by his empty life, he gazed up at the sky,

when a small plane flew through the air

dragging a message behind, one to which he knew he must reply.

Mustering up the courage to stand before a noisy, now gathering crowd,

he motioned to them to quiet down,

as the began to answer the question, the plane’s banner posed, aloud.

He stood erect and spoke with strength and pride,

encouraging them to have faith in their wonderful country

and to believe in a prosperous future, which left them hopeful and dewy-eyed.

Thursday, January 29, 2026

You live a long life. However, you wonder if there is more to come.

You search within for an answer, and . . .

The Window Opens

I sat staring out the window into a sea of emptiness.

Seeing nothing, I heard a voice from within.

Then a light shined, and I knew I would find the answers I was seeking.

The joy and information I sought emerged from the depths of my inner being.

With words of hope, I envisioned a future beyond belief.

At ninety, I didn’t feel this was possible, but the timing seemed right.

All of this would have been a fantasy in my earlier years.

But now, I was able to embrace a new reality,

One I’d only dreamt of being a part of.

I had a chance to do something I’d never done before.

I knew in my heart, the risk was worth taking.

This was an opportunity I couldn’t resist.

A breeze blew through a now open window, beckoning me to take the next step.

Refreshed, and with clearness of mind, I stood and smiled.

The Lord smiled back and motioned to me to come.

Entering his chamber, words flowed from above letting me know what I needed to do.

My mission would open the eyes of those lost on the path to forever.

Through my leadership, I would help them find their way, as I’d found mine.

Wednesday, January 21, 2026

Strangers meet on the street. Do they have a future together? Time will tell.

They seem as different as night and day. However, two hearts blend and they ask . . .

“Were We Meant To Be?”

I’m unsure how to tell you this.

It’s something important you can’t dismiss.

I’m having a hard time getting it out.

I’ve got to do it; you need to know what it’s all about.

Please give me a chance to say my piece.

No, don’t reach for the phone to call the police.

He didn’t listen and tried to grab the phone off the table stand.

I didn’t know what to do to make him understand.

The look on his face frightened me.

But I knew I had to try my best to make him see.

My body shook in a way it had never done before.

I began to remove my clothing and each piece dropped to the floor.

I understood what he saw was hard to believe,

But it was the only way, my life I could retrieve.

He appeared to be shocked and full of grief.

However, now knowing the real me should be a great relief.

Coming from outer space many years ago,

I transformed myself in a way no one would know.

Then a beautiful creature, an earthling who blended in,

I met him on the street one day and made his head spin.

But as the years passed, I tired of playing the game,

And began to live in a reality of shame.

I loved him with all my heart,

But knew becoming his forever mate wouldn’t be smart.

Staring at me, his eyes bulged out and his jaw dropped down.

My hair became bright blue, my skin turned red, and my lips were brown.

My ears grew to two feet long and my nose became a black dot on a small ball.

With arms, now more like butterfly wings, I stood over seven feet tall.

I knew it was the right time to go and travel back to my home in space.

I’d accomplished all I’d set out to do and needed to return to my birthplace.

As I thought about the journey I’d take, my mind drifted away.

But then the unbelievable happened and I didn’t know what to say.

The earth creature of my dreams began to look more and more like me.

He winked and said, “My darling, I am you and you are me, together we were meant to be.”

Saturday, January 17, 2026

Living a long life is something we all hope for. We do the best we can to make it happen.

However, it is not always easy, because . . .

The Odds May Not Be In Our Favor

Four women sat alone in the Golden Garden Retirement Village Clubhouse staring out the window onto the golf course. Four minds wandering and wondering what the future might bring. Then one leaned over and . . .

“You want to go to the Singles Club dance in two weeks, Karen?” Debbie asked.

“I don’t know, Debbie. There’s always so many more women than men there—a seven to one ratio, I heard.”

“Well, we danced with each other at the last open dance night.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m saying. I was married to Sam for fifty-five years. And he’s been gone five. It’s time to move on, but not with you, Karen.” And then . . .

“Hey, I know you girls aren’t speaking to me, but I can hear every word.”

“Okay, Sarah, so you can hear every word. You want to be part of our conversation?”

“Sure. Let’s make it a threesome.”

“No, it’s a foursome,” Isobel, shouted.

“All right, ladies. It’s a foursome,” Debbie responded. So let’s put our heads together and figure out how to make this work so we’re not stuck dancing with each other.”

“Maybe the Singles Club dance isn’t the way to go,” Isobel stated.

“What are you saying?” Debbie asked. “If not the Singles dance, then what?”

“Aren’t there other clubs that hold dances?” Isobel queried.

“Yes, but all their members are married,” Karen said, with certainty.

“Hell, we’d probably end up in divorce court,” Sarah yelled.

“So, does that mean we have to barhop?” Debbie asked.

“But I don’t drink,” Isobel moaned. “My vote for barhopping is definitely, ‘no way!’”

“What are you doing, Sarah?” Karen inquired.

“A bit of research?”

“Huh, what kind of research?” Debbie asked.

Sarah smiled. “I’m looking through the ‘Golden Garden Retirement News.’”

“What for? There’s never anything interesting in it,” Debbie stated emphatically.

“Until now, I would have agreed with you,” Sarah replied.

“What’s changed now?” Debbie queried.

“A brand new club, with over one hundred members, is having a one-month celebration. It’s inviting anybody who wants to come to a ballroom dance to just show up. No charge. This is our opportunity to find the one,” Sarah chanted. “And I’m going.”

“Me, too!” Isobel yelled.

“I’m on board!” Karen stated strongly.

“I guess it’s unanimous then,” Debbie said. “What’s the date?”

“This Saturday, 7 pm, in the Golden Garden main ballroom. Dress like you’re going to a prom,” Sarah announced, enthusiastically. “I’ll drive my plush Subaru SUV. Just be outside your homes by 6:30 pm, and I’ll whisk you away to paradise.”

Saturday arrived and Sarah made the rounds, picking up her three cohorts. They chattered about how wonderful the evening would be. Arriving at the clubhouse, Sarah parked the car and the quartet made their way into the building’s main ballroom.

When they entered, all they saw were many women mingling and enjoying the hors d’oeuvres. Where were the men? And then one appeared in the center of the room, dressed in a tuxedo, and wearing a badge that said, “Marcus Goodman, Host.”

With Sarah in the lead, they walked up to him. She stared him in the eyes and blurted, “This is a ball, isn’t it?”

“Why, yes,” Marcus replied.

“Then where are the men?” Debbie asked.

“There are four standing by the bar,” Marcus answered.

“Only four? Where are the others?” Karen queried.

Marcus looked at us with an eerie expression on his face and muttered, “Dead.”

“You can’t be serious. How did they die?” we asked in unison.

“You women killed them.”

The truth of the matter is . . .