A Little Prose and a Little Rhyme

This is the first part of a prose-exchange between Author Peter Benson (you can find him on authors den!!) and us. Hope you will enjoy!


The Knight and The Owls


The wise knight had posted his message and leaned back in his chair, his mind pondering on the possibilities of predators out there in his King’s land. And while he was thinking, a soft, fluttering sound disturbed him. He turned around in his chair and there, on the mantel of his fireplace, calm and almost unreal, a white owl was sitting, looking at him, not making sound, quiet, observing.
But before he could figure out how it had gotten there, another noise disturbed the perfect silence. He turned and, much to his surprise, another owl, darker than the first one, was sitting on top of the old grandfather clock. It spread it’s wings and folded them back in.
He turned to look back at the first owl and it seemed as if those ancient , clear, eyes looked right into his soul, not once blinking.
Slowly he turned back to the other owl, but it was gone, only one feather was slowly falling to the ground, resting finally on the lush carpet of his room. He turned back toward the first owl, opening his mouth to say something, but she too, was gone. Instead, a single rose was laying on the mantel.
Behind him the curtains softly waved in the mild breeze that came through the window.
He picked up the feather and the rose and, holding both of them in his hands, he looked out the window, into the golden afternoon. From far away he could hear a soft laughter, but then again, it could have been the rustle of the trees or the murmur of the river…

© January 2006, Birgit and Roger Pratcher

Here a little bit of "dark" poetry:

As the raven soars past
majestic and dark and yet fast
my fears like a waterfall will rise
and to my utmost surprise
an old owl cries out in the distance
reminding me of my fragexistenceance
and the despersquealqeal of her prey
answers from far awIy
i know that now is the time, the moment
the one I so feared and yet awaited -
all my life.

© January 2006, RB Pratcher

Welcome to our little blog with Great links!

This is the Blog of the writers RB Pratcher.



For more reading of actual stories, poetry, sample chapters or even purchase of books, please use this link Author's Den , where you can find titles like

Flight 196
The Motel
The Reststop
A Bird in Need
Being Sarcastic
The Safest Place to Live
The Riot
The Right Whale
We Go Where You Go
In Memory of Eddie
The Everlasting Light of a Friend
Beyond these Walls
Cupid and Psyche
and many, many more. New articles, stories and poems are posted weekly.

Welcome to our blog, you won’t find anything too serious here, probably for one because we are not so very serious to begin with. Still, it is an enter-at-your-own-risk-kind-of-thing, every now and then we will feel free to give advice on probably not so very important tasks in life, recall little phrases we’ve heard, like the other day when our youngest son was telling us about this really, really great new video game, which of course he MUST have, you will find so many options, alone by choosing your player! You could be human or a monster or even a woman…made the mother-half of the parents feel a little--alien?
So every now and then we might post a poem, which was just scribbled in between with maybe not enough quality to really post it, but still could be fun to read.
So, if you are willing to enter-at-your-own-risk, feel free to do so!


Out the Window

While traveling on highways and byways and through towns, my gaze kept wandering along the route we drove and I could not help, but to start wondering, how all this stuff can fall out of windows. If you look closely you can find empty milk containers, McDonald bags, shoes, shirts and pants, jackets, caps and hats, plastic bags, wooden crates, coke bottles, beer cans and beer bottles, which really makes me wonder, how would a beer bottle manage to be empty in your car and then find the way out of the window? And, trust me, besides puddles of cigarette butts, what you find most are empty cans and bottles of beer, now I am having a closer look at the other drivers on the road, just in case. But, considering all this stuff that manages to fall out of a driving car’s window, how come there are never any full wallets or hundred dollar bills? One should think that paper cash, light as it is, would easily find it’s way…
Later we needed some cash, since none fell out of another car’s window, and we pulled up at an ATM drive-thru. To my unbelievable surprise, there were Braille writings on the drive thru machine, so a blind person would have easy access from the driver’s window….
© February 2006 RBP


Here is a little poem, written for Marcel, the ‘middle’ son.

My Marcel

Water blue eyes, shiny brown hair
A happy smile and freckles everywhere
Tall, handsome and lean
A strong walk, yet still a little green
This is Marcel, my beloved son
Of whom to dream long before his birth I begun
He’s stuck in the middle between
Two brothers who are never mean
And still, even though the middle one
He’s never average, from the beginning on
He is bright and he is smart,
Clever and a master of poetic art
A computer wiz, a game pro too
And a real sweetheart, that’s true!
I love this child of mine so much
In my dreams we are always close and in touch
And I know that the day will be here
About that I am absolutely clear
For us to be together and have nothing but fun,
Me and my son!
With all my love to my son Marcel,
© February 2006, Birgit and Roger Pratcher

Please feel free to visit our sites to explore more of our writing! Here are your links:

Author's Den

Wonderful Stories

Reading Fascination

Roger

Birgit

R&B