White ermine licks frost,
Red hawk watches from tall tree,
Blue sky bows to clouds.
by John Patrick Seekamp 2013
23 Friday Oct 2015
Posted in Creative writing, Fiction, Haikus, Poems, Writings
23 Friday Oct 2015
Posted in Creative writing, Fiction, Observations, Poems, Writings
There the mist that mornin’ helt
Taken ‘way by mid-day’s swelt
Bowed and crouched and waited knelt,
Upon the blued and crisped dry air
Hidin’ without devotion there
Poised to shroud in dawn light’s care,
Upon the night and darkness quelt
Waitin’ and hidin’ on restlessness felt
There certain of future’s fare;
Certain of nature’s temperament bare.
by John Patrick Seekamp 2013
22 Thursday Oct 2015
Posted in Creative writing, Fiction, Non-Fiction, Observations, Poems, Writings
Tags
The shallow sort is never far
from all that they can see,
they wallow in their lack of thoughts
in a state of muted glee,
And when they’re forced to use their mind
it’s then they’re forced to face their kind;
and that, you see, they never mind,
For that’s a solace they’d always find….
it’s nothing to he or she,
And the shallow sort agree.
by John Patrick Seekamp 2015
02 Friday Oct 2015
Posted in Creative writing, Non-Fiction, Short Story, Writings
A man and a woman were walking arm and arm down a big city street.
At the same time, far above, a dangling safe was waiting to be loaded through the window of a sixth story room in a twenty five story office building. The man was old and the woman was young. The rope holding the safe was old and the safe was new. The rope was stretched and it strained as it held the heavy, heavy safe. Both the old man and the young woman wore a wide brimmed hat. But that didn’t matter. That wasn’t the reason they didn’t notice the safe far above. They were looking downward as they walked, trying to avoid stepping on the cracks in the cement sidewalk. It was something they hadn’t done for a while. Not since the young woman was a young girl. The old man was her great-grandfather and each smiled as they remembered back. Just then a passing garbage truck sounded its loud air horn startling the pair. They stopped and laughed as they watched the truck move on. They were now standing almost under the dangling safe. The wind picked up and the dangle became more of a sway. Then the swaying became a twisting and turning. One part of the rope, the part that secured the rig, began to unravel and where it was frayed from use, slowly and almost methodically, the strands began to break. As the young woman and her great-grandfather were about to walk onward, the wind nearly blew off their hats. Each reached up to hold them tighter to their heads. Heads which were still not looking upward. The wind stopped momentarily and the safe stopped moving about. Just then a pigeon, having earlier been chased by a strong gust of wind from its perch on the ledge of a nearby building, and then from another ledge when the garbage truck sounded its air horn, landed on the top of the safe. With that the wind picked up again. The safe twisted and turned and then jerked and dropped about an inch as more of the strands broke. The pigeon spooked. It flew from the now doomed safe, and as it did it let loose with a dropping, followed closely by another. Just as the old man and the young woman were about to move on once more, the first dropping landed on the sidewalk six feet ahead of them. Then the second one landed. Both with a splat. Standing still they looked at the two droppings just as the final four strands of the untwisted rope snapped, sending the now unsafe safe straight downward to the sidewalk below. It landed as any heavy compact thing would’ve landed. With a tremendous thud. Then the crash was followed by the old rope and the two pulleys that once guided it. There was a small cloud surrounding the now slanted safe that was partially forced into the cement, but the wind quickly blew the dust away.
A crowd gathered and then soon a policeman arrived. The old man and his great-granddaughter lay on the sidewalk, their hats lying beside them.
“What happened?” one woman asked.
“That safe fell from up there,” a man said as he pointed upward. “It’s criminal if you ask me!”
“Are they…..are they…..,” another woman started to say.
“It’s all right,” another man said as he knelt beside the old man and the young woman. “They only fainted.” Then he stood. “I’m a doctor. They should be okay once they come to. But I’ll stick around to make sure just in case their falling down hurt them worse then it appears.”
“Thank goodness,” yet another woman said.
Then, in chorus, the rest of the crowd agreed.
“All right now folks move along,” the cop said. “Excepting the good doctor here of course. We’ll take care of all this. Move along now the rest of you.”
Just then the same pigeon once again landed on the top of the safe.
“Oh so it’s you again is it,” the policeman said to the bird. “I saw the whole thing happen don’t you know, and I know that if it wasn’t for your lettin’ loose the way you did just when you did you little scoundrel…..well, one can only imagine. And now don’t be lettin’ it go to your head, but because of you, saints preserve us, these two lying here, only fainted away and not crushed to death, well they have you to thank for it. Why look, they’re coming to now. I’ll introduce you.”
But before the policeman could do so, the garbage truck that sounded its loud air horn earlier sounded it loudly once again, and once again the pigeon spooked and flew away. At the same time a hawk took off from a nearby roof top. It had earlier flown to the area to investigate the mishap. The policeman watched as it followed the pigeon until both birds were out of site.
“What happened?” the young woman asked.
“I think we’re both lucky we didn’t start walking again, Honey,” the great-grandfather said.
“I seem to remember that something caught our attention, Great-Grandfather,’ the young woman replied.
“And you have a pigeon and its droppings to thank for that,” the cop said.
With that the hawk, still chasing the pigeon, flew through.
“Why there he goes now…..errr, I mean to say there goes a similar pigeon now,” the policeman stated, not wanting to upset either the young woman or the old man.
“And don’t worry,” he added, “In all likelihood that similar pigeon will dodge that devil of a hawk pursuing it and get away clean. I’m practically sure it’ll be just safe.”
Then as the cop looked to where the two birds had flown, he and the doctor helped the young woman and the old man to their feet. Then, after removing his hat to scratch his head, the doctor handed the pair their hats. Then all four of them looked at the fallen safe.
“Safe indeed!” the doctor said. “Safe Indeed!”
by John Patrick Seekamp 2015
02 Friday Oct 2015
Posted in Creative writing, Poems
Eyes open upon awakening,
They see what is there to see,
They see silhouettes and shadows cast,
Some are familiar faces and some are unfamiliar faces,
Each deep with joy and sorrow,
Deep with lines of smile and frown,
Marred by scars from work and play,
And the eyes see places,
All the places…..too many places,
Some are familiar and some are unfamiliar,
Throughout the day eyes look and see,
Before long the sun settles,
Eyes flicker and then close,
Soon there is a muddling of familiar and unfamiliar faces and places,
Soon it becomes chaos, and then order, and then chaos,
It is of what the mind’s eye see’s when, only for a while, eyes are closed,
All this while the sun is awaiting to be risen,
Then the sun claims anew.
by John Patrick Seekamp 2015
02 Friday Oct 2015
Posted in Creative writing, Poems
Tags
In the wee waning hours…..on Old Darby Row,
Down by the docks with all riggings of ships,
So many ships,
Of three and four masts and cargo’s in tow,
There down on the wharf’s where frenzied seagulls scrounged,
Amongst stevedores and pulleys and a tide’s ebb and flow,
Where old barrooms full of sailors and toughies all lounged,
Drinking and fighting with soon quainted friends,
And doing the same with newly made foe,
There under the moon and lamp lights aglow,
Down by the docks…..on Old Darby Row.
Just after the noon bell…..on Old Darby Row,
Down in the harbor with ship’s traffic gone sailed,
All sailing for places,
So far away places,
Where book readers and school boys all and all longed to go,
There down where returning sailors passed by wing and wing,
Heading fast for tired stevedores pulling ropes all but slow,
Where old men gruff told their stories and sometimes would sing,
Of their travels and adventures, but mostly of where they loved to be so,
There in the warm sunlight ‘bove waves to and fro,
Down in the harbor…..on Old Darby Row.
Not long before nightfall…..on Old Darby Row,
Down ‘long the piers with boxes all stacked,
Boxes and barrels of porcelain, tea, and rum
Waiting for horse and wagon and their final stow,
There down in the backwash did gathered seals bark a’ loud,
As the shouts of the stevedores hoisting goods had to grow,
Where young lads clambered boldly up the ratlines and shrouds,
Then shimmied down swiftly the backstays with a throw,
There in the twilight by the day’s pass alow,
Down ‘long the piers…..on Old Darby Row.
by John Patrick Seekamp 2015