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/

 

 

 

Things happen in unpredictable ways. Such occurrences can turn your life upside down.

 

You believe the past is behind you. Then something arrives in the mail . . .

 

 

With Postage Due

 

My father heard rumors

that contest riches

were coming his way.

Taken aback

by this great news,

he didn’t know what to say.

So he got his gun

and waited

by the front door

for this wonderful day.

Our family’s protection plan in place,

he looked through the peephole,

for the deliverer’s face.

 

That was six weeks ago,

and we’re still as poor as can be.

But our father hasn’t left the front door

and sleeps on a cot, not so peacefully.

Tremors are present,

in both his hands.

His whole body shakes uncontrollably,

and no one understands.

The pressure has driven him

to distraction,

and even Mom,

dressed in a sexy nightgown,

doesn’t appear

to be an attraction.

 

I’m only ten,

and what is happening

leaves me confused.

My eight-year-old brother,

on the other hand,

seems quite amused.

Why, is beyond me—

a complete mystery.

But I’ve recorded my thoughts

on paper to preserve our history.

 

Now twenty years later,

I began to practice law.

My first case involved my brother,

who I still adore.

Saving him

was what I needed to do,

for he had committed a crime,

witnessed by a few.

 

Seems he heard rumors

of riches coming his way.

Recalling my father’s failure,

he believed

he knew how to play.

Still living at home,

he awaited the arrival

of the delivery man,

who knocked on the door that day.

Opening it, he said,

“What you have in your hand

belongs to me.”

The delivery man replied,

“Well, no, that can’t be.”

Then my brother

pulled out my father’s gun

and shot the young man

in the knee.

He fell to the ground

on the front steps,

for all in the neighborhood to see.

With tears in his eyes, he cried,

“This was meant for an older man,

not you.

It’s been lost in the mail

for twenty years,

with postage due.”

 

 

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