STORYTIME TAPESTRY

The Newsletter devoted to spreading love and cultural awareness throughout the world

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Oct 3, 2005? 

? We are pleased to announce Monika Pant as writer # 252 for Storytime Tapestry Newsletter.?  Please email this wonderful courageous lady your comments about her magnificent poem.

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Now on to the good stuff..........

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Today's Queue Stories
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Bank of Life

Jodi Flesberg Lilly

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When I consider my writing as making a deposit in the bank of life I see worlds opening, communities forming and new ideas birthed into being. Joy opens my heart further as I stop to notice and delight in the good fortune and friendships that have come into my life since I proclaimed myself a writer less than a year ago and began investing more time and energy in learning and developing my abilities.

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I hear the world responding to my words and reflecting inspiration back to me. I see the miraculous occurring on a daily basis because I found the courage to write who I am and what I experience and share it with the world. I am awed by the sweet success of dreams coming true as I live more wholly as the writer I am.

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Jodi

www.lightinmotion.net

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? ?© 2005 Jodi Flesberg Lilly

lightinmotion@yahoo.com

Jodi Flesberg Lilly is a writer and intuitive astrologer living in San Ramon, CA.?  She founded and leads the Creative Writers Network at www.Ryze.com (an online business networking site), as well as offering intuitive astrology readings, leading workshops, and teaching classes in spiritual and personal awareness.?  To subscribe to her monthly Light In Motion, intuitive astrology newsletter please send an email to info@lightinmotion.net and write "subscribe" in the subject line.

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~**~**~? 

? I Never Got To Say Good Bye

? Sharon Bryant

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October 1st.?  I always dread this date every year.?  It's the countdown month for me, the one that takes me back in time to a day I'd like to erase from my mind forever but I can't.

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Twenty-three more days to go, 28 years later, and I still ask God why??  Why my child??  Why couldn't I keep him??  It just never seems like the years have passed as they have.?  I think back to where I was on that fall day in October, the laughter, the fun, a little boy who was as close to me as my soul.?  And in the matter of just a few quick minutes, his life was snuffed out, and I was left alone.

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I look in the mirror and I've changed since that long ago day.?  My hair is now silver and I see crow's feet on the sides of my eyes.?  My hands are showing age spots.?  My hands once smooth, are not becoming wrinkled.

The years have done that to me.?  And yet, my heart is the same.?  My feelings are the same, and my love for my little boy.?  And though I know he'd be 34 this January, in my mind, he'll always be my little five-year-old.?  My first born, the child I waited years for.?  Sometimes it just doesn't seem fair.?  Sometimes I feel life dealt me a bad hand.?  Sometimes.....it hurts so bad I can't breathe.

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I know there are several people on Storytime that have lost a child.?  Some have emailed me.?  Some have told me their stories.?  Some have shared beautiful memories with me.?  And like me, they still hurt.

Someone just asked me this week, "How long does the pain last."

I replied, "As long as you love."

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Sometimes I don't want to write on a site that is not totally bereaved parents.?  I know it's hard for them to understand what a parent lives with who has lost a child.?  I would give anything to not have been one.

I'd give anything still today if I had the chance to go back in time and change the events of that day.?  But I can't.

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In ways, it's odd how love is.?  So profound, it stays with us forever.?  Just today I was looking at his school photo and noticed little red spots starting on the picture.?  I froze.?  "What if this picture fades??  How would I get by if I don't have the photo sitting on my desk?"?  Monday I'm going to find someone who can restore the photo.?  I have no idea where to go, but I'll find some place that will help.?  I have to.

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In nine more days I'll be making a phone call to someone else I love very much.?  I'll say, "Happy Birthday Dad."

And he'll say what he has been saying to me for years........"Gal, you're catching up with me."?  I'll laugh and say, "Yep, I sure am."?  It's traditional we do this.?  We both know we can't live forever.?  Yet, on October 10, I'll come up with some memory of long ago when all our family was together, before tragedy struck and death took my mom, my son, my brother.

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On the 24th, it's going to hurt.?  It always does.?  Tonight I prayed that this year I'd get a "sign."?  And I'm happy to say the little flower pot my son gave me just before his death, which is a large plant now, has bloomed for the third time in 28 years.?  Why, I have no idea, I just saw the flowers on it yesterday.?  It makes me feel he's near me, saying, "Mom, look, I'm not far away."

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I'll watch for any kind of sign.?  I'll pray for it.?  But if I had one wish, it would be to see him one more time.?  Hug him one more time.?  Squeeze him, run my fingers through that beautiful head of hair he always had.?  And tell him one last time how much I love him......because I never got to say good bye.

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Sharon Bryant

1946 @bellsouth.net

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About Me:

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? I am Sharon Bryant,? 59 years old and reside in Alabama.

I lost my child in 1977 when he was five and I write
articles on bereavement often.

I am a chocolate/candy maker and also a wood crafter and knitter.

I am married to a wonderful man, and have two remaining children, a daughter 25,
Amy, and a second son, Randy, age 22.

My main goal in life is to help those who
have lost a child. My website is: www.angelsremembered.tk

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? ? ~**~**~

Weep No More? ? 

5/2/02

D.A. Arthur

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My beloved aunt, Dolores Regina Simmons, is dead. It pains me to even write that sentence -- just the finality of it.
She died the other morning, in her sleep. My sister knocked on my window at 6 am to tell me.

Telling my mother, that was hard. Writing the obituary, that was hard. Making funeral arrangements --that was impossible. Funeral arrangements!

Just last week, Dee and I made plans to go shopping. We were going to buy a new dress for my sister's wedding. I'm still going to buy the dress -- just not for the reason I'd planned. Nothing happens the way you dream, it seems.

Every time I look in the mirror, I see her face.
Every time I go into her room, I see her things, still
there as if she'd never left.
Every time I go into the kitchen in her house, I see
her sitting at the table.
Every time I see her car, I think she's home and I can
go in.
Every time I see an ivy. Getting over the shock was the easy part.?  Now comes the hard part, the mourning.?  That could take forever.?  There's this emptiness inside that nothing can fill.?  I can't look at a black car without thinking of her.?  I can't do anything without thinking of her.?  The memory is always there.?  I have heart palpitations.?  I can hardly breathe.?  I cannot sleep.?  I cannot eat.

Each day is a carbon copy of the last one. Woe, lamentation, and grief beyond bounds. Don't shed no tears for me, don't shed no tears. I hear her voice in my head over and over, like a Gregorian chant, the
melody haunting and satisfying all at once.

What was it about this tiny, unassuming woman that engendered such emotion? Why were grown men bawling like babies and perfect strangers weeping at the sound of her name?

Auntie Dee had quiet strength and incredible dignity. She went about her tasks without complaint, without fanfare. She'd give the children of the family sort of have the right idea.?  The day she died, my nephew begged for a swimming pool.?  My niece even teased us about crying.?  They are blissfully unaware of what's happened.?  They played outside like normal.?  They asked for music.?  They know better than any of us that we have to move on.?  Maybe they could teach us grownups a few lessons in grief management and pressing forward with life.

Auntie Dee would not want me to weep for her. She would want me to press forward with my plans. It will be difficult, but I have to. And so I will.

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Everything I Learned About Storytelling....

D. A. Arthur

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? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  I learned from my aunt, Dolores.? 

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? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  I should know, she told me a few whoppers.

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? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  Like the ones about my mother's family's founder, Harriet Jones.?  Someday I hope to complete a book about it.

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? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  Like the ones about my playboy grandfather, who died before I was born.

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? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  Like the ones about my mom's somewhat wild younger days.

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? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  Like the ones about my other aunt's rosebush, the one she used to call the "Seven Sisters" for the seven stems that grew out of the ground.

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? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  Like the ones about my wayward cousins, my sisters, and her own flighty son.

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? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  Like the ones about the mischievous behavior of the children of the family.

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? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  Like the ones about the principal of the school at which she worked.

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? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  Like the ones about the students she used to teach.

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? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  Like the ones about her environmental activism trips to places like Washington, D.C. and Baton Rouge.

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? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  She used to tell me all the time, "The way to tell a good story is to tell it from your heart."

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? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?  Now that she's gone, those words ring more true than ever.? 

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D.A. Arthur is a freelance writer (sounds more professional don't you think LOL) living in Louisiana. She is the author of the novel "The Maverick Princess" which was published in 2004 and can be found at any online bookstore. Find out more about her at the following locations: http://www.daarthur.us (the official site); http://www.publishedauthors.net/daarthur (auxiliary site), and http://www.ryze.com/go/DAArthur

~**~**~

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Poetry Section

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Ferry Building After Dark( Unshriven)

Maria Doherty

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Out of focus eyes
Tremble on the brink
Of final flight.

The lights below
Beckon like wreckers
On a savage shore.

Soul's dark night,
Gapes open mouthed,
Swallowing me down.

Sliding into a chasm
Of sheer sided ebony,
And no climbing back.

A golden gate opens
Swaying in the wind
Of God's final wrath.

And I carry no coin,
For the Ferryman;
My soul will suffice.

Unshriven I fly
To eternal rest
Amongst the damned.

Maria Doherty

md009b1363@blueyonder.co.uk

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? ~**~**~

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I had a dream??¦

Monika Pant

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I had

a dream of meadows green,

Of lovely, gurgling brooks,

Of picnic treats

and chocolate sweets,

Of a land without books.

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I had a dream of

moonlit trysts,

Of rain-drenched passions wild,

Of soaring high as

eagles fly,

Of changes strong and mild.

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I had a dream of a cosy

nest,

Of little cherubs true,

Of strength of heart to do my part,

Of

happy sailing through.

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But dreams are dreams and fade away,

Joy,

sorrow, name and fame,

The passions dry and cherubs fly,

And nothing

stays the same.

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There is a place beyond it all,

Where glorious

patterns lie,

Dive deep within, and take a spin,

Just open your inward

eye.

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Monika Pant

mpant65@sify.com

I am an English teacher, teaching senior students in La Martiniere Girls' College Lucknow. I have been a teacher for about 10 years now .I am hoping someone, somewhere would just give me an opening and I could leave everything and just write...(Am I echoing the sentiments of all writers?)
My interests are writing and reading, drawing, singing, music enlivens me and issues around me disappoint me.
I have just about gone through some cycles of chemotherapy,( My doctor is hopeful of my recovery) and that has opened my eyes to the beauty of life, a lifetime, which is too, too short to accomplish all that I have to do, and I have had the privilege to see beyond the outer facade of people. I have a caring husband who is an Urdu poet and two lovely daughters who are very creative.
Love ,
Monika

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? ~**~**~

Cupid's gone

Christina Hymes

Cupid's gone mad, a demented scene
Arrow's piercing sorrow into innocent hearts.
He's gone mad, a tormented soul
Sharpening the heads and like Medusa's snakes, they snare
Chopping them off, they grow once again
He's crazy they say, "A darkened heart"
A soulful person who longs for heart,
For his past was full of horrors, and no way out but down.


that should be enough for a bit. thanks hun.

--
Christina Hymes
CDRC Marketing Assistant
hymc0001@unf.edu

Christina Hymes was born in Bethesda, Maryland on March 4th, 1986. She grew up
with her older sister, twin, and younger sister. In 2002, the family moved to Jacksonville Florida where upon she finished high school in 2004, eight in her
class.
She now attends the University of North Florida and will be majoring in
Nursing and minoring in English. Christina writes on her free time. Her work
is a collaboration of poems that deal with her life and the events around her.

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Writers Feedback

? I have read some of Saskia's work and it is very good reading.?  Congratulations on being Senior Writer and on becoming a new wife!?  God bless, Sharlett Hunt

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I really enjoyed Vance Agee??™s Stories, Susan Stevens.

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? SENIOR WRITERS

Chief Writer: Sharon Bryant

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? Agee, Vance;? Apted, Violet;? Baker, Kathy; Batt, Al;?  Berry, Nell;

Boda, Ginger;? ? Buhagiar, Victor; Cassady, B.J.;?  Cavalera, Robyn; Crider, Mark;? 

Deming, Barb; Doherty, Maria; Goodier, Steve; Halley, Ellie Braun;

Harris, Kathy Anne;? Hunt, Sharlette;? 

Jacobson, Gary;? Kiser, Roger Dean; Kerens, Claudia; Jenkins, Pamela;

Liles, Norma; Lock, Joyce; Mazzella, Joe;? Ojeigbe, Georgewaters;

?  Petry, Dianna Doles; Roberts, Susan;?  Shiveley, Debra; Shaw, Bob; Sims, Richard; Streidel, Saskia; Swarner, Ken; Vaknin, Sam; Verhoeff, Jan

Walker, Bill; Walker, Joe;? Warner, Gorden K;

Whirity, Kathy;? White, Robert;

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STORYTIME TAPESTRY STAFF

Publisher: Carol Roach-founder

Moderator: Thelma Hartselle-co founder

Moderator: Clara Westerfer

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