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Open Poetry #50
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My Legacy
| Open Poetry #50 |
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My Legacy |
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JerryPat2 Member Laureate
since 2011-02-06
Posts 16975South Louisiana 
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my legacy ahhh . . . how will it sound the good deeds I have performed the world knows little the bad deeds are known to all my poems short stories, the novels are succumbing to dust of the ages looking back I cringe with the knowledge that my legacy will be confined to those two lost decades so . . . be . . . it P.S.: I’m revitalized, working on a new novel. ©January 23, 2017 / Jerry Pat Bolton |
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| © Copyright 2017 Jerry Pat Bolton - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Lori Grosser Rhoden Member Patricius
since 2009-10-10
Posts 10202Fair to middlin' of nowhere |
Write on! you old Codger... |
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JerryPat2 Member Laureate
since 2011-02-06
Posts 16975South Louisiana |
Heh.Heh Yeah, you're right, Lori! ~ If they give you ruled paper, write sideways. ~ |
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Ari Squire Member Posts 488 In The Phallus Lane |
Some of us are more concerned about getting more miles to the gallon than we are the cost of gasoline. I'm one of them and I think you are too Jerry. Get that novel written and more. ...and keep you tank topped off my friend. I for one, don't want to find you out of fuel! Loving Linny Jean is poetry. |
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JerryPat2 Member Laureate
since 2011-02-06
Posts 16975South Louisiana |
I have begun the novel, the Preface is in the can. After I get a short nap in a little while, Chapter 1 is next. Thank you for your thoughts about it, sir. Eh . . . I'm trying to keep the gas tank full, my friend. So far so good. ~ If they give you ruled paper, write sideways. ~ |
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Bluesy Socrateaser Member Elite
since 2002-11-07
Posts 2417In The Mirror |
Many of us here are mere 'dabblers' JerryPat, but you are a true writer. Novels and poetry must keep your fingers busy, which is good. Keep on "truckin' JP! BTS ...just bein' Bluesy |
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JerryPat2 Member Laureate
since 2011-02-06
Posts 16975South Louisiana |
Ah, I don't consider you a "dabbler," Blusey. Thank you for your continued support. ~ If they give you ruled paper, write sideways. ~ |
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jjote Senior Member
since 2002-12-25
Posts 1088Ontario, Canada |
I'm a flash in a pan when it comes to writing...gold today rest rest rest some more and who knows when the next time for me to pick my brains or keys or whatever to put jumbled life to paper. Write on Jerry, good to know you keep the fire burning |
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JerryPat2 Member Laureate
since 2011-02-06
Posts 16975South Louisiana |
Thank you, jjote, I had thought I didn't have another novel left in me, but I do, and it's title is, "The Hitchhiker's Daughter." ~ If they give you ruled paper, write sideways. ~ |
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jjote Senior Member
since 2002-12-25
Posts 1088Ontario, Canada |
Sounds intriguing...is it suspense, romance, thriller. |
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JerryPat2 Member Laureate
since 2011-02-06
Posts 16975South Louisiana |
Suspense and Thriller for sure. Not sure about the romance until I get further in it. Look, his story idea came from a poem I wrote. It is about a fifteen-year-old girl she calls Daddy. He isn't her biological dad, but he was the only one there for her mother when she had her. Here is the poem . . . The Hitchhiker Big rig driver made a stop that cold night, To top off with diesel and eat a bite, Headed to El Paso with a full load, On a south Texas dreary mountain road. She stood to the side of the cafe's door, He averted his eyes, thought her a (B)ore. After his meal, he drank a cup of joe, He drank the coffee and paid what he owed. She was still there, bent against the cold wind, "Please, Mister," she said, "I just need a friend." He did a double take; she was with child, A desperate soul as she tried to smile. He loaded her up inside his warm cab, She said, "Thank you," and her stomach she grabbed. He went back inside for something to eat, She gobbled it up and said aren't you sweet. Now that she was there, what was he to do? He timidly asked her when are you due? She said there was no family or friends, No one in the world for her to depend. In the mountain range of Guadalupe, Her labor began, she asked him to pray. He pulled off the road and shut the rig down, It was much too far to get to a town. The baby was coming, it would not wait, Into the sleeper awaiting her fate, He tried to help, but it was just his luck, They were both stuck out there in his old truck. The blood soaked everything, even her screams, There was no water, not even a stream. The baby came and mother died on cue, How he got through it all he never knew. He held the squealing, bloody baby girl, And something inside him started to swirl. The babe started out, the odds against her, The blood-spattered child was only a cur. In El Paso he made all the right stops, Hospital for child, and they called the cops. Mother buried in potter's field so sad, He claimed the child, saying he was her dad. ©July 27, 2009 / Jerry Pat Bolton ~ If they give you ruled paper, write sideways. ~ |
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tracie66 Member Elite
since 2000-01-18
Posts 4713Australia |
happy musings JerryPat  Love is the life of the soul... |
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JerryPat2 Member Laureate
since 2011-02-06
Posts 16975South Louisiana |
Thank you, Traci. ~ If they give you ruled paper, write sideways. ~ |
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