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/

 

 

 

 

Is it real or just a dream? Life can be confusing.

 

Questions drift through your mind. Answers are hard to find. You wonder if you can awaken from . . .

 

 

The Dream

 

     I stood at the stove in our home on Marvelous Lane, as Nancy entered the kitchen. She looked at me and smirked.

     “You seem to have something on your mind,” she murmured.

     “I had a weird dream last night,” I said, as I poured a cup of morning tea. I cherished the tea, as it was a cold autumn day and I was shivering.

     “What was it about, Tony?” she asked, with a lilt in her voice.

     “I don’t know if you can handle it if I tell you.”

     “Try me.”

     I hesitated before responding. “Are you sure you’re up to hearing this?”

     “If you keep stalling, I won’t be, because it’ll be bedtime.”

     “Okay, sit down.”

     She pulled out a chair at the kitchen table and collapsed into it. “All right, I’m seated. Are you going to join me?” she asked, as she stared at me, wondering what this was all about.

     With my cup of tea in hand, I shuffled over to the table and sat down across from her. I remained speechless.

     “Well, are you going to say anything?” she requested.

     “I’m not sure how to start,” I muttered.

     “I presume from the beginning. Wouldn’t you?”

     “But there was no beginning.”

     “What does that mean?”

     “I’m not sure I can tell you. I’ve got to go.”

     “No, ‘Mr. I’ve Got Something To Tell You,’ you’re not going anywhere.”

     She glared at me as if I’d committed a crime. I bowed my head in shame.

     “I’m waiting.”

     “All right, but don’t hate me.”

     “Hate you? I love you, or I wouldn’t put up with your bizarre antics.”

     I got up from the table and started walking out of the room. I looked back and . . .

     “Where are you going?” Nancy asked, confused.

     “To set the stage.”           

     “For what?”

     “The dream.” I pulled the blinds down and shut off the lights, leaving us in total darkness.

     “This is not making me comfortable. Can’t we have a little light.”

     “No! Dreams occur in the dark.”

     “Are you coming back?”

     “All in good time.” I wasn’t sure I knew what I was doing, but I had to do it.

     “Are you comfortable with this?” my soft inner voice whispered.

     “I don’t know. Do you have another suggestion?”

     “Let me think.”

     “Think. That’s how you always avoid facing the inevitable.”

     “Well, you can’t do it without me, so you’re just going to have to follow my lead.”

     “What lead? This is getting ridiculous.”

     Do I dare share my dream with Nancy? How will she react to what I have to say? I thought. I can’t keep her waiting in the dark. I’ve got to go back.

     “Are you awake yet?” the inner me chimed.

     “You mean I’m still asleep?”

     “That’s exactly what I mean. And you know you’ve never been married.”

     “But she’s in the kitchen waiting for me. We’ve been together seventeen years.”

     “Yeah, since you were born.”

     “But I’m thirty-seven.”

     “In your dreams you are?”

     “This is not real. It’s all a dream.”

     “Did you ask her to the homecoming dance?”

     “Homecoming dance?”

     “The one in December. She is the girl of your dreams, after all.”

     “Oh, my! I’ve got to wake up! I screamed.

 

 

Copyright © 2025 Alan Lowe. All rights reserved.

Some things happen that are unexplainable, so I had to seek professional help.

 

Although I did, it was taking longer to fix the problem than I wanted it to, 

and I believed . . .

 

 

My Marriage Is Falling Apart

 

Growing up, I was told marriages should last forever. You must do

     what is right.

My parents’ marriage lasted sixty-one years, and until “death do us part,”

     they held each other tight.

 

My marriage was strong and I wore the ring on my finger with pride.

The sun shined most weekends, as I took my morning walk,

     with my wife by my side.

 

Now don’t get me wrong, my relationship was not absent of flaws.

We did have our disagreements, which sometimes included

     the slamming of doors.

 

However, we followed a mostly straight path and raised two children,

     who we loved and adored.

As we aged, we retired and tried to keep busy—playing cards, going

     to the movies and plays, and out to dinner, so we wouldn’t get bored.

 

However, even the best partnership can suddenly come apart, no matter

     how hard you try.

My ring finger began to hurt in a way I couldn’t believe, and I couldn’t find

     the reason why.

 

Was this a signal that something in my marriage was going wrong?

     And how should I tell my wife?

I wanted to ignore what was happening, but, if I did, it could mess up

     my life.

 

Then one day, when I was out and about, I felt a weird sensation

     in my left hand.

 I stared at my fingers and noticed I had a spiral hook stabbing me

     from my two-tiered wedding band.

 

In disbelief, I knew I had to make this right, so I headed to my town’s

     closest jewelry store.

I entered, and a smiling salesperson asked, “What can I do for you?

     We sell beautiful jewelry, watches, statues, and more.

 

With a tear in my eye, I moaned, “I need your help. I believe my marriage

     is falling apart.”

She looked at me, in a somewhat confused way, and said, “I’m not sure

     what I can do, but I don’t want to break your heart.” 

 

I thrust my hand in front of her face, displaying one tier of the ring around

     my finger, with the other now standing straight up like a knife.

It’s been over a month now, they haven’t fixed my ring, my marriage is still

     falling apart, and I don’t know what to tell my wife.

 

 

Copyright © 2024 Alan Lowe. All rights reserved.

You want to understand the reality of the situation. However, this may not be easy to do.

 

This troubles you. So you try to find the answer . . .

 

 

In The News Today

 

I sat at the kitchen table scanning the articles in the Sunday paper. Most were about how our new president had done this, that, or something else I had trouble understanding. But politics has never been my love, so I just pushed what I’d seen into the back of my mind.

 

Looking out the window, I wondered about the weather, as my wife and I were planning to take a drive in the country this afternoon. But the weather information wasn’t in the paper. I went through every section, most not worth reading beyond the headline, and couldn’t find it. I muttered, “Dammit, our paper keeps getting smaller, but more costly.”

 

I leaned back and stared at the ceiling. What I saw blew my mind—speech bubbles drifting across the room.

 

“You wanted news, so that’s what will give you. Okay, Lionel, you may begin.”

“Today is a day you’ll never forget. Buckle up for the road is going to be bumpy.”

I couldn’t believe my eyes. Where was this coming from, I thought.

“This is what you wanted? Isn’t it?”

“Holy crap, are you reading my mind?”

“Isn’t that what a good reporter does?”

This isn’t happening. I must’ve dozed off, I believed. I’m dreaming.

“If you were dreaming, it would be about girls in bikinis. You seem to think about that a lot.”

I began to shake. How did he know this?

 

I got up from the table and walked into the hallway. “Oh, crap, the bubbles are following me,” I mumbled.

“Yes, I am. You haven’t given me a chance to tell the story.”

“What? That a storm is coming, and we shouldn’t go for a drive in the country? You can’t be serious.”

“If it were that simple, you would have found it on page four of the paper.”

“What if I want to end this now—and forever?”

“Just call the paper. But nobody’s going to answer. You have a lifetime subscription.”

“I have a what?”

“If you live? We live with you?”

“This is a joke? Right?”

“If my humor was that good, I’d be on stage and not stuck in some godforsaken windowless office.”

“So, if I believe you, then what’s the rest of the story?”

There was no response. And then . . .

 

The headline read, “TODAY WE CELEBRATE THE LIVES OF HARRIS AND MARIE WYKOFF. These two wonderful people died on the somewhat bumpy highway of life last Sunday afternoon.”

 

 

Copyright © 2025 Alan Lowe. All rights reserved.