Storytime Tapestry Newsletter

The newsletter devoted to spreading love and cultural awareness around the world.

December 13, 2007

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Today?s Announcement

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Christmas is just around the corner and most of you have already started to think about Christmas gifts for this season.? Why not help out Storytime Tapestry with its ongoing commitment to provide you with free wonderful stories and poems daily by purchasing the publisher?s newest book for someone special on your holiday gift giving list this year.? Angels Watching Over Me can be published through lulu press in both hard copy and e-book.? Just click on the link: ?Angels Watching Over Me

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Important notice: Storytime Tapestry is a free e-zine, however donations are always needed to help with the operating expenses of running the newsletter and to keep Storytime Tapestry the quality newsletter you are so accustomed to.? ?You can make your donations to paypal at: winterose@videotron.ca, or if you would prefer to use the mail system contact the publisher at the same email address: winterose@videotron.ca

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Today?s Stories

~**~**~

?????????????????????????????? **** Disclaimer****

This article written with the good natured approval of Hubby Bear.

?LOVE AT THE FILLIN STATION

?April Lipscomb

I am a non-romantic but I know a good story when I hear one. I know a girl Sally Sue who was dying to tell me her story. I listened and told her about the contest. She asked that I publish this for her as she doesn't have a computer. So without further delay here is "Love At The Fillin Station."

It weren't love at first seeing. But Love sur nuf came a callin. It all got started when my old T-1000 got a flat tar. Lucky I was right smack dab in front of the fillin station. That's how I come to meet my knight in overalls, Joe Bo. Joe Bohanon Jenkins was working that day and I knewed his name right off from the fancy tag sewed on his shirt.

I told him about my tar and he got right to it cause he worked there and all. It turned out all I was needing was a plug. So he plugged her up and gave that thar tar some air and it was rarin to go faster than a greased possum being chased in a sweet tater patch.

I knewed something was passing between us cause of the way my heart took to sparkin like a spark plug when he put his hand on mine to take the money I was a paying him with. The minute I felt that motor oil covered hand touch mine I knewed he was the one fur me. I knewed he took a shine to me to cause before I left he yanked that polecat hide off of my bumper that I had runned over near a month ago. He gave me his number too in case I was a needing another tar plugged. I knewed his heart was a sparkin too.

That's how I met my one and only forever true love. We got marryed quicker than a Jack rabbit in love and got us a near new mobile home. Pappy let us park out back of his house and it was a good thing too. Cause my Joe he can sure see things smart and he saw them woods and got to thinking of a business fur us to get going. So now I am a hitched women and I am a business owner and Joe he is the one smart feller, he got the brains in the family. So now we got our own little place, we call our business the sippin spot. We got our own fillin station fur folks instead of cars?and boy oh boy folks sur do get thar fill. No better homebrew in three counties. I am happy and in love with my Joe Bo.

April Lipscomb

Imladybug270@aol.com

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Scared and Afraid to Admit it

Peggy Ann Doak

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Imagine living alone in a hut that cannot keep the drafts out. Imagine being alone for days on end, and when a nor'easter hits and the lights go out, and the wood is burning faster than it is heating; please sit and feel that. Now imagine having memories of your truck being repoed. Of hunger, and of being in the sights of people you do not know who want you off the land you are on and no one believes you. Yes, put it all behind me. I can in the summer. But the chill is coming. And I am so frightened. I have a friend who I wanted to see today, but I couldn't walk. Sometimes the nerves in my legs give out. The pain is hideous.

So later today, I drove to the store for food and gave a check that will be processed, and put me into arrears even more. So I think...why not ride one of the horses across country. Is that crazy? How would I get benefactors? You see, I don't want to die not seeing my Grandchildren one more time. My son is having another concert and I think, why cant' I just go. Surprise him.

My mother just died a few months ago. In all of the other families in my extended family, they all got inheritances. I did not, nor will I ever. I guess what I am saying is that I am losing hope. When I began writing at gather.com and received such great feed back, I thought, wow, I can write my way out of this whole. I am an ok writer, maybe gifted. But no where near as good to write to support myself. It is hard to think about writing when reality is staring me in the face. Slowly but surely I feel the moments of despair coming down. That is why I haven't been around much lately. I want honest answers. Please not cruel ones. I am aware that I suffer ptsd. And one of the triggers is the cold. The other is not having money to eat and be sorta like other people.

I am sending this to everyone because it is everyone I need to hear from. Except, please don't be like my only relative left. My brother, who took all of what my mother had. I am afraid of him. Ahh, I am reaching out, looking for hope.

Peggy Ann Doak

pdoak333@peoplepc.com

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The Stranger Inside

Cheryl Williams

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It happens mostly in the morning, when all is quiet and the world is still sleeping.? I get up, put the coffee on, get dressed, and sit down to read a bit.? Usually it's a poem...by nobody in particular.? After a bit, I begin my day, and the words come to me like a rushing spring.? It may be only two or three words at first, but they nag at me and?I know they will not be satisfied until they flow onto paper...so I take pen in hand and write them down.? They begin to flow from me in a hurried gush, and my pen has a difficult time keeping up.? Where is this going?? What does it mean?? Why do these words need to be released?? These are the questions I ask.? The answers are never the same, nor are the words...or the particular pen that writes them.? The only constant is this hand from which they flow.? Heavenly words, erotic words, words that inspire, words that question, give praise, or incite.? They flow from this hand possessed, and they often come from someone that I don't know...or even want to know.? Who is this stranger inside me?

Cheryl Williams

Politicalgirl04@aol.com

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Poetry Corner

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~The Composition of you~
Mary Dees
Your trusting arms surround me and blanket me at night,
Your heart a colorful prism, a beacon filled with light.
Your touch, soft as the feathers of a newborn angels wing,
Your smile, warm as the sunrise that I long for in the Spring.

Your gentle voice a symphony,?precious music to my ears,
?Your sweet laughter- a tender gift, that I'll always yearn to hear.
Your perfect eyes- the essence of a rippling green river,
?Your guiding hands, a place I found, where I can be delivered.

Any part of you that touches me, gives me new reasons to remain,
Here in this world beside you, where pleasure overrides the pain.
Each moment in its passing, when spent somewhere with you,
?Is a glimpse this side of heaven that I never thought I knew.

Forever more- I'll stand beside, the only man that holds my trust,
For love's gates are made of brass and are never meant to rust.
He is not just any man, He is the only one I've ever knew,
I found him long ago, in the composition of you.


~I Love You~

By Mary M.Dees
marlena7694@yahoo.com

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?Here in This Place

Cheryl Williams

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Here in this place of wanting,

shadows block the sun;

Day is but a visitor to the night;

Colors fade as dreams;

Open eyes beg to close;

Fear snuffs out the candle.

Here in this place of wanting,

solitude is the only friend;

Silent hallways beckon

with doors that do not open;

Hope is shattered

as broken glass, veiled by tears;

Nothing as it seems

here in his place of wanting.

Cheryl Williams

Politicalgirl04@aol.com

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?Love's Sweet Bliss

Cheryl Wiliams

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Your honey lips invaded

like a small country

seeking to conquer, and

I fell hard, but

surrender was sweet.

Now I long to taste

more than honey, for

the?aftertaste lingers

and sweet freedom

is calling.

This heart, invaded

one too many times,

is battle scarred, but strong

and it waits patiently, for

one day this heart

will be the conqueror

rather than the conquered, and

these lips will drip honey

over one fallen,

yet surrendered.

Love's sweet bliss

will prevail

Cheryl Williams

politicalgirl@aol.com

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Readers Feedback

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Jennifer Oliver that sounds like a fantastic meal for a special person? but my husband does not like any chicken anyway but FRIED and can not have that due to health problems? but I enjoyed the story and it will do me as I just enjoy more readings of the wonderful writings shared by people like you and our lovely Winterose? Carol.? hugs and God bless Leona a loyal fan of Storytime Tapestry.

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enjoy your writings Bill Walker? well told and described in picture form as usual?? and as always my thanks and appreciation to lovely Carol Roach our beautiful Winterose.? A fan Leona

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Here is our Storytime Tapestry Angels: Also, I would like to thank?those of you who?chose to be a silent angel and?gave an anonymous donation to keep?Storytime Tapestry up and running.

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Clara Westerfer, Mark Crider, Rosanne Catalano, Paula Booher, Kay Seefeldt, Mariane Holbrook, Mary Ellen Grisham, Louise Nomani, Sharon Bryant, Angela Walker, Hart and Helen Dowd, Keith Ready, Ginger Morgenstern, Ellie Braun-Haley, Surinder Jandu, Bob Shaw, Carol Meeks, Charlotte Hilliard, Maria Keller

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