Change Up in Web Sites

Wm Dragon 9Major Web Site Construction Completed! No More Link Changes! I Hope I Did Not Lose You in the Last Juggle!

When I originally started my web site journey, I had one web site for all my writing and writing research.

However, I decided that I should diversify my web site so that those who are interested in what great writing knowledge can be gained from various authors of books on writing can go to a web site that is specifically built for that function. Likewise, a person interested in reading, writing, and sharing poetry could follow my poetry site and those interested in writing novels and short stories to go to my novel writing site.

So, I divided my original web site into three.

The original is now “William’s Journal of Writing” https://williampadgett.wordpress.com/

The new ones are “New Poetic Horizons” https://williampadgettblog.wordpress.com/

and “Novels and Lesser Tales” https://williampadgettsite.wordpress.com/

I am sorry for the bit of confusion this juggling has caused. Particularly, the last change in which I swapped the links for “William’s Journal of Writing” and “Novels and Lesser Tales”. I had to do that because if a new reader is steered to my web site by my profile, I wanted the visitor to arrive at “William’s Journal of Writing” rather than “Novels and Lesser Tales”.

Also, when I press my computer desktop WordPress icon, I want to go to the Journal of Writing and then, if desired, go to my other web sites from there.

All my major changes are completed; so, if you want to follow one or more of my web sites, you can click the “follow” button for the one you desire and I promise (fingers ever so slightly crossed) you will not be juggled around in the future.

Thank you for following and sharing. I have been and will continue to visit your work and will share as you wish.

Yours,

-William

More Poetry

My Heart Sings 2

Oh, Lovely You

I was looking for adventure, but found you!
Intent on the coming fight, when out of the blue
You were in my sight and then in my heart and mind.
Oh, that all the things I face were now behind.

Lovely you! How did our destinies mingle?
Our dreams were varied, but here became single!
A great warrior, confident, rough, and battle tried;
Became a lad with begging heart and wishful sigh!

Oh, to touch your golden hair and hold you tight,
But my feelings strong should wait ’til after the fight!
As I gaze in your blue eyes, can you, my soul, see?
Be mine, I will it! My heart is yours to be!

Should I lose the fight, I will die loving you;
But I intend to win and your heart pursue!

-William

boy and girl2

A Sonnet for Helen

I.
Helen, I don’t like you, just stay away.
Boys laugh at you and say you have cooties.
They tease you nearly every school day.
You’re far from being one of their beauties.

Helen, I don’t like seeing them hurt you.
Why do bullies tease another classmate?
But if I speak up, they will tease me too.
I don’t know if I can handle their hate.

Helen, I hurt for you and search my soul
With anguished heart since I can’t ease your pain.
The cruel world is beyond my control
All that I could ever do would be in vain.

Be brave, Helen, and do not grow bitter
Pray I’ll grow bold and won’t stay a quitter.
II.
Helen, a noble name versed in Greek fame;
Derived from Venus, the goddess of love.
Pledged to Paris as the loveliest flame.
Helen’s torment saddens angels above.

Your family is of Irish descent;
Sturdy Celtic blood flows rich in your veins.
The chiders’ foolish mocking is misspent;
Bold ones arise and bind your foes with chains.

Each has worth; we are equals in our land.
By lifting those unfortunate in life
We ensure that we and others can stand
Above the selfish haters who spew strife.

Helen, the mean ones seem on top today;
But, have faith, their evil will sour their way.
III.
Spring ascends earth’s throne with triumph and might.
It routs winter as buds defy the chill.
School agriculture programs with delight
Lead teens to raise livestock to learn the skill.

The high schools send students to the State Fair
Where livestock and food are given awards.
“Get on the school bus! There’s no time to spare.
Have your name checked on the roster clipboards.”

It takes two hours from the school to get there.
A lunch stopover is marked on the way.
Thoughts of fun, food, rides, and games spark the air
Well tossed balls win your girl a big stuffed bear.

Oh, let’s go to the fair so far from home;
From fun to excitement we ache to roam.
IV.
On the packed bus, I found two empty seats.
I sit, then, ‘No!’ Helen takes the last place.
I said, “Hi”, but likely blushed red like beets
Anger and kindness within ran their race.

I ignored her, but felt her warm presence.
She left me alone as inward I burned.
I escaped in my mind through thoughts intense;
She talked with her friends, so she twisted and turned.

Time passed. I found myself fully aware
Of her firm warm body’s touch against mine.
Feelings I never knew started to flare.
I struggled but my feelings would not decline.

Childhood games cannot stand against the heat
Grownup awareness becomes life’s new beat.
V.
The State Fair is an overdose of thrills;
Cycles in barrels; the loud car races;
Sweets ’til your belly aches can cure your ills.
In your mind, it seems the best of places.

“Go and get on the bus. It’s time to leave.”
I head for my seat, hoping, ‘Yes, she’s there!’
“Hi” was the only word I could achieve.
Against her, quiet with fear, was hard to bear.

It’d be a long ride for we did not speak
Or acknowledge each other on the road.
Oh, what a cruel game of hide and seek;
My emotions were ready to explode.

‘Helen, if you can read my mind, say so.
If you do not like me, please let me know.’
VI.
Shortly after leaving the State Fair grounds,
Night pounced upon our bus with gleaming rays
From a full moon and all the twilight sounds.
Around us and next to me, nature plays.

Helen fell asleep sitting next to me.
I turned and gladly lent her my shoulder
And felt giddy as she snuggled carefree.
I’d never be unfair; could I hold her?

The fragrance of her soft brown hair was nice
And her soft, sweet breath played across my cheek;
To her, I’d give my life, such a small price
To pay, she was all I could ever seek.

When we listen to the crowd as they tease;
We lose a gem we’d love someday to please.

-William

Poems of Adventure

brush of death new - Copy6

A Brush with Death

I
A beautiful Florida morning;
Phlox soak up the rays of the early sun.
Adventure often comes without warning;
Nature is full of energy and fun.

A bucket holding a handful of corn
Is my ticket for a bareback horse ride.
Walking through the field where a trail was worn,
I sang songs from my heart which set my stride.

I spied the horses in the Back Field;
The Thoroughbred was lying on the ground.
The Quarter horse grazed on nature’s yield,
The Pinto frolicked near a grassy mound.

Farm life for a young boy is a pleasure.
A world of adventure is its treasure.

II
Singing my tunes while stalking the horses,
I did not see the event I had styled.
Violating one of nature’s forces,
I stepped between a Mother and child.

The Mother, a tan colored Brahma mix,
Snorted and bawled, then flung her dehorned head.
A raging cow! What a terrible fix.
No time for error, my groping mind sped.

I knew she’d catch me if I tried to run.
I assumed a basketball guard stance,
She shot toward me. Now, it’s one on one.
I held the pail. My world began to dance.

What do you do when you are facing death?
Will your faith hold even through your last breath?

III
The feed bucket was my only weapon;
I would hit her face while I spun away.
I watched her moves in her charging run
I sought clues to help me make my grand play.

No audience watched this thrilling scene;
How often people face death alone.
Will you panic or plan in peace, serene,
As you meet your life’s adventures head on.

Her muscles moved smoothly and with grace.
She honed the aim of her blunt head.
I all but felt the breath from her ticked face.
I steadied myself and swallowed my dread.

The surreal climactic moment has arrived.
In a flash, I will know what fate connived.

IV
Steady, now. Ready, now. I timed my play.
I tensed to strike, the cow stiffed her limbs.
She bounced to a stop and spun away.
It is hard to regroup while your head swims.

Warily, I left knowing I had won.
When I was clear the cow ran to her calf.
I prayed on my way to thank that One
Who gave protective strength in my behalf.

Over time, I have faced more such events,
These times put my character on a forge
Strengthening my faith and my life intents.
As I bravely stand up to life’s worse scourge.

As long as I live, I’ll never forget
Facing death with a will that did not quit.

-William

Oh, Wondrous Dragon

William Dragon Image

Oh, Wondrous Dragon

Bronze and iridescent, with large, brown eyes;
Slain by your awesome beauty, my heart sighs.
Oh, perfect shaped head, and noble beaked nose
With outstretched wings, to the sky you rose.

Your size, oh how fiercely you fill the sky;
Larger than the grandest oak, yet so spry.
Your wings are huge, air filled like war ship’s sails
The greatest of boulders, next to you, pales.

Whoa! My emotions are thoroughly mixed!
How can I drink in your beauty betwixt
Your stunning size, and the sheer terror felt,
Knowing that for me you desire death dealt.

I dodge the scorching, sulfur-smelling fire
that you belch forth for my funeral pyre.
Horse and rider feign in and sashay out
Trying to find level ground for a bout.

How, pray tell, will I win this unfair war?
I’ve no choice, a lady’s life I fight for.

-William

The Bad, the Good, and the Wise

Cowboy 1

The Bad, the Good, and the Wise

I
The breeze played over the desert street
and dirt devils swirled in the heat;
The Summer sun reigned over the Texas sky
its vassal town sweltered; the air so dry.

A horse and rider approached the town.
The sorrel trotted up a hill, then down.
Sweat foamed at the creaking saddle’s fringe,
and on the horse rode Bart who made gun men cringe.

Bart stood six foot two, lanky, quick, and swarthy
“There’s not a man who can outdraw me,” swore he.
Coal black hair, thick black mustache, and cold grey eyes
in a squint; gun handles notched as a man dies.

Someone had to have a price on his head
For Bart only traveled to shoot men dead.

II
Tom Bradley, Courageous, bold, and brave
enforced the peace; law and order to save.
His twinkling deep blue eyes hid his steel will
As sheriff, he arrested those who kill.

His creased black felt ten gallon hat, he cocks
To partially cover his shaggy golden locks.
Nearly six foot tall, muscular, cunning, and lean
Graceful and confident, a tough fighting machine.

Tom strode through the Texas town with cat like ease
Watching for trouble, the citizen to please.
The familiar weight of his pearl handled pistol
kept his obligations clear as crystal.

Prepared to arrest, last resort to draw
Tom devoted his life to enforce the law.

III
The tumbleweeds rolled to the breeze’s flow
bouncing by the school; children’s faces aglow
at the sight; for they watched weed and breeze play.
After recess, reading would complete their day.

Miss Betty stood watching her students’ capers.
She taught, assigned work, and graded their papers
as she led them to obtain their best in life.
She enjoyed their growth and cried over their strife.

Her full length dress of fabric faded blue
blended with her red hair and face of tannish hue.
Her soft brown eyes sparkled when the marshal she saw
walking by. “I’ve a crush on him.” she thought in awe.

Forming lives, helping children to mature
these goals in life were to Betty a lure.

IV
Then, up the street, Betty saw Bart dismount his horse.
He hitched the sorrel and pursued the sheriff’s course.
His hand went for his gun, Betty screamed, “Tom! Behind you!”
The marshal spun, drawing his colt, at her cue.

Bart was swift as lightening, but the scream
and Tom Bradley’s abrupt turn upset his scheme,
but only for a moment. Tom was quicker yet,
and, in a split second, his focused aim was set.

Tom squeezed his trigger; his colt jolted his arm
Bart’s gun barked, sheer pain in Tom’s side brought alarm.
As darkness began to tunnel his sight
Tom saw Bart jerked back by his bullet’s might.

Bart’s gun fell from his hand; he dropped to the ground
His body went slack as he moaned his last sound.
He would no longer hunt men and kill with his gun;
The final payment for wrong is death; right had won.

Bart lived to kill; Tom lived to stop the wrong;
Betty lived to nurture and make lives strong.

V
Under his right ribs, Tom felt a throbbing pain.
The blackness closing, his strength began to wane.
Dizzy, he knew he could not much longer stand
When suddenly, he felt on his shoulder, a hand.

He then felt a lithe body holding him steady
He heard a familiar voice, “Lean on me. Ready?”
He allowed the angel to help him lie down
She tended his wound as around gathered the town.

How long he had lain in bed, Tom was unaware.
But between Betty and Doc, he was in good care.
He felt his heart warming when Betty came near
And before long he told her, “I love you, dear!”

Bart had met his match on that dusty Texas street
And Tom was matched with a lovely lady so sweet.
Betty still teaches school and lives are made bright.
Tom still enforces the law and lives are made right.

Wrong has been defeated and justice rules anew.
Justice and teaching; protection helps growth ensue.

-William

Poetry is Fun, Entertaining, and Inspirational

Recently I read this comment by a person who doesn’t like poetry.

In school, we were led to dissect poetry and to find the hidden meanings. We sucked the life out of poems…”

How disturbing! Most poetry was never meant to be dissected; but enjoyed.

From the earliest times, mankind put words to rhythm and assonance so that their story could be recalled from memory easily. Words put to music has survived; but words put to rhythm and assonance, poetry, has been relegated to a back seat in modern reading.

This site is dedicated to telling tale and flash bits in poetic verse. Whether you prefer inspiration, romance, or a thriller; you should find something you will love here.

Don’t try to find hidden meanings or “suck the life” out of these. Just read and enjoy!

Hope you have fun!

Yours,

-William