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/

 

 

 

 

Life can be lonely. We look for support in helping us find our way.

This may not be easy. But then the unexpected occurs, and we share . . .

 

 

A Journey Worthwhile

 

Two people stand alone in the snow,

Not knowing what to do or where to go.

Two people stand alone in the snow,

Motionless, as they feel the wind blow.

 

Two people scared of what the future might hold,

Shiver in the evening breeze’s cold.

Two people scared of what the future might hold,

Realize if they are to make it in the world, they must be bold.

 

Two people travel down life’s road,

Dragging with them the burdens of existence—a heavy load.

Two people travel down life’s road,

Praying for a sign upon which the direction to follow is showed.

 

Two people turn toward one another and smile,

Joining hands and hearts, together they travel the next mile.

Two people turn toward one another and smile,

Lighting up an otherwise dark path, now a journey worthwhile.

 

 

Copyright © 2024 Alan Lowe. All rights reserved.

What belongs together and what doesn’t? Sometimes things you believe should be kept separate don’t remain that way.

 

You struggle when this happens, and believe, in your heart, . . .

 

 

This Was Never Meant To Be

 

It was a cold, rainy, December morning. I sat in my den, with tears in my eyes. This was never meant to be. It can’t happen this way, I thought. It wasn’t right in the past. But I tolerated it.

 

What am I going to do? How do I deal with it? Who can I talk to? Will anybody listen to me?

 

Nineteen years ago, 2005, I was forty-five years old, when it first happened in my life. I wondered why it had to be that way. But it wasn’t my choice.

 

However, now it is happening again. What did I do to deserve this? I knew we had our differences when I married you. But we kept them separated.

 

When it first occurred in 2005, I was bewildered. But you were in charge and the way we faced the challenge was your decision. You said, “This is the way it was meant to be and we must do it accordingly.”

 

I asked why and you stated, “It’s on the calendar. So it must be right. And I follow what it says.”

 

What had I signed up for when our lives came together? The rain beat furiously upon the roof. It felt as if our house might float away, like Noah’s ark. Maybe this would be a good thing. Then I wouldn’t have to face the inevitable.

 

I had two days. Just two days to decide how to face the impending disaster. I didn’t want to accept it, but . . .

 

My God! The house had Christmas decorations flowing all around the inside. And the outside lights, turned on before dark,  lit up not only our home, but the street, as well. Christmas music made the dancing reindeer display on our front lawn come alive.

 

This was a total catastrophe. For the Hanukkah menorah sat on the kitchen counter, with two unlit candles standing and ready to be lit, but not until sundown on Christmas Day. It was almost completely hidden by its rival, Christmas. I shook my head in dismay. Why should Christmas and Hanukkah be meshed together on the same day? This was never meant to be. They weren’t partners.

 

But they were, in a way, for they were both holidays filled with joy, love, and happiness. And both breathed life into our world and gave us the energy to repaint gray skies blue. I needed to believe in what we had and enjoy the bright lights of Christmas and Hanukkah—after sundown.

 

 

Copyright © 2024 Alan Lowe. All rights reserved.

Life can be complicated and confusing. You question who is in charge.

You wonder where you are and how you got there. And then you are told that you are forever . . .

 

 

Under My Influence

 

     I sat on the couch, with my feet propped up on the ottoman, in my living room in my home in Diablo Valley. I’d fallen asleep, I think. Everything was blurry. Then I thought I heard a voice. But how could that be? I was alone.

     “What the hell do you want?” I asked, in a not so kind tone.

     “You.” The voice stated.

     “You want me? What for?”

     “For all you’ve done.”

     “For all I’ve done? What does that mean?”

     “You really don’t know, do you?”

     “No. I have absolutely no idea.”

     “Sit back then, and I’ll tell you your story.”

     “You’re going to tell me what?”

     “Your story. In its entirety.”

     My eyes scanned the room. It was empty. Everything was still. Am I going crazy?

     “No, you’re not. Just relax and follow my lead.”

     “Follow your lead? To where?”

     “Back, then forward. Inside, then out.”

     “This isn’t making any sense.”

     “Be quiet. It’ll all come together.”

     I shook my head, thinking I could make this ridiculousness disappear. And I heard nothing more. Good. I’m back to normal, I thought.

     “Normal? That’s a stretch. I don’t believe anybody would characterize you as normal.”

     “This has got to stop. Come out and show yourself to me.”

     ”Why? You know who I am.”

     “No, I don’t.”

     “Think back twenty-six years.”

     “Huh? Why?”

     “Your beginning.”

     “Are you saying that’s when I was born?”

     “Yes, that’s right. And I was there.”

     “You were?”

     “I was in the hospital room. You were a cute little thing. And I wanted you.”

     “But you didn’t get me. My parents took me home and raised me. At least my mother did. She told me my father wasn’t around much. He was too busy.”

     “Took you home, yes, Raised you, not really.”

     “You’re confusing me. I lived with them until I was eighteen. They loved me and cared for me. Didn’t they?”

     “For your body, maybe. For your mind, up to a point. For your soul—not at all.”

     “My, God! What are you saying?”

     “Please don’t bring him into this.”

     “Hell, it’s getting awfully warm in here.”

     “So you do know where you are.”

     “I’m in my home.”

     “No, you’re in my home.”

     “Then please turn down the heat. I can’t handle it. The sweat is running down my face.”

     “You’ll get used to it.”

     “Why would I want to?”

     “To be comfortable in your new home.”

     “My what!” I screamed.

     “Calm down. You’ll wake the dead.”

     “This isn’t real. You’re just messing with my head.”

     “If you mean getting your head straight, then yes.”

     “If what you’re saying is that I have to believe this is real, then you’re crazy.”

     All of a sudden the lights in the room began to blink. I had no idea what was happening or what to do next. And then, I heard a shrill voice.

     “Julian, are you up yet? You’re going to be late for school.”

     “Late for what?”

     “School!”

     “Who are you?” 

     “Are you kidding me? I’m your mother and you’re my sixteen-year-old son.”

     “Sixteen years old. No way. I’m twenty-six and this is my house.”

     “No, you’re not twenty-six. And this is our family home. Have you been taking drugs again? Have you lost your mind?”

     “Drugs? I’ve never taken drugs.”

     “Don’t listen to her, Julian. You belong to me now,” the voice stated.

     “Why are you back? You’re not real. I don’t need you. And I’m only sixteen.”

     “You do need me. I am your forever,” the voice chanted.

     “Not anymore.”

     “Good boy! Stand up to him. He doesn’t control you. I’m your mother, You’ll do as I say, you little twerp.”

     “If you’re my mother, why are you calling me names?”

     “Don’t question me, wimp.”

     “What did I do to deserve this?

     “You made her disappear,” the voice said.

     “Your saying, I left home.”

     “No, I’m saying you did away with her, when you were sixteen. Now she is rotting in a world of eternal damnation. And you made it happen.”

     “I killed her?”

     “Hm. Not exactly.”   

     “What in hell does that mean?”

     “You’ll see. The voice stated, in a very different manner—a way that made me feel safe.”

     “Am I still in . . .”

     “You were in a living hell, but not today. And now, you are forever ‘Under My Influence.’”

     There, standing before me, a statuesque figure, clad in a white suit and bright blue tie, spoke, “Believe in me my child. You’ve been to Hell and back. I am your savior. Please, bow your head in reverence. 

     “Yes, . . . Father,” I murmured.

 

 

Copyright © 2024 Alan Lowe. All rights reserved.