Jane Oxley
Stories (35/0)
My Father
My father was a self-taught mandolin player. He was one of the best string instrument players in our town. He could not read music, but if he heard a tune a few times, he could play it. When he was younger, he was a member of a small country music band. They would play at local dances and on a few occasions would play for the local radio station. He often told us how he had auditioned and earned a position in a band that featured Patsy Cline as their lead singer. He told the family that after he was hired he never went back. Dad was a very religious man. He stated that there was a lot of drinking and cursing the day of his audition and he did not want to be around that type of environment.
By Jane Oxley2 years ago in Confessions
Happy fall. Sweet heart like a lotus
A beautiful window, worry purples, thin pen plain in a wisp of ink write time flies. Pick up big and small past, in the wind light cloud light days, let yourself away from the hustle and bustle, with a few pieces of idle clouds, wan a warm sun, the wind and a garment fluttering, long hair diffuse. Grassy grass in the wilderness, the stranger flowers, quiet heart empty, become gentle fragrance. Like this kind of indifferent, let the heart clear and distant, thousands of dust all go with the wind, such as lotus, a wisp of fragrance quietly warm. Time flies, my heart is idle.
By Jane Oxley2 years ago in Wander
Idle see autumn cloud
All the year round, autumn clouds are the best to see, because autumn is clear and cool, blue sky clouds white. One afternoon, in the "green stream red leaves, green forest point white clouds" of the hill, or sit or lie, idle to see the clouds.
By Jane Oxley2 years ago in Fiction
process
The setting sun or down the mountain, that wipe endless afterglow will be a brilliant western sky rendering. A group of clouds like a group of a quick and bright charcoal fire, the wind demon dance, colourful colorful aconcheng. Square sky, only this side is still living a prosperous old dream type of life. The rest is sinking and fading. The fading light was returning to darkness, and darkness was returning to night. What's the use of all that brilliance? It wasn't the morning glow, after all. Pinched and extinguished fireworks suddenly turned into cold black charcoal. However, it is gorgeous and worth pursuing. But the night gradually closed the sky, closed the bustling old dream.
By Jane Oxley2 years ago in Motivation
Walk on the road of life
Everyone's life has such a long river, it is the heart of hope and dream, as long as the heart is not dead, it will flow, guiding your road of life to a bright future, more than life, youth forever, with their most solid arm to hold up their own a piece of blue sky.
By Jane Oxley2 years ago in Psyche
A man's blood
Standing in the corner of the season looking back, time is in a hurry. Just bid farewell to the long days of autumn water, ushered in the winter snow flying. The winter of central Plains resembles a romantic and pure girl, eager to show her charm, early of fall to the world. You see, the snowflakes flying all over the sky, such as a thin yarn, yangyang, and like jade butterfly crystal clear, with spirituality.
By Jane Oxley2 years ago in Fiction
The past of my life
A lot of time, just a past; Many lives are destined to be a past. There is someone coming or leaving your life around the clock. Thus, the seen, the unseen; Remembered, forgotten. There are gains and losses in life. So, the unseen, see; Forgotten, remembered. However, invisible, is not equal to does not exist? What is remembered, will it never disappear?
By Jane Oxley2 years ago in Fiction