Peter Rose
Bio
Collections of "my" vocal essays with additions, are available as printed books ASIN 197680615 and 1980878536 also some fictional works and some e books available at Amazon;-
amazon.com/author/healthandfunpeterrose
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Stories (329/0)
A tale of many parts
A tale of many parts Horses, horseshoes and all that Jazz Shakespeare claims that Richard the third called out, “ a horse, a horse, my kingdom for a horse” Probably not a factual event at the end of a bloody battle, since in medieval times the King did not ride about battlefields without a select bodyguard, who the moment they saw Richard unhorsed, would have hauled him up and given him one of theirs. There is another old adage which says that for want of a nail, a horseshoe was lost, for want of a horseshoe, the horse was lost, and for want of a horse, a kingdom was lost. The “moral” of this being that a seemingly irrelevant loss can lead to huge disasters. As a jazz enthusiast I can testify this is still the case.
By Peter Rose11 months ago in Fiction
Safe if not sound.
Good and bad have no meaning when everything seems lost, when hunger drives the body to forget its soul. To survive becomes the consuming desire and all is justified to that end. Scrabble in the river mud, fingers seeking protein eaten raw. Disgust and squeamish horror have all gone, stilled by that demand, the need to survive and tell my story overcomes all else, I had taken days to get this far. The river water saved my life, and its creatures fed my bodies need. The flow downhill gave me direction enough. My warning in time to save us all.
By Peter Rose12 months ago in Fiction
A father's duty
The hate in my heart fed my brain, compelled stillness in my limbs, I waited in my hide. My camouflage was good and my patience strong. Grazing deer came and went, songbirds trilled and flew away. The light started to fade, but I stayed. My target drove down the lane, stopping just feet from his door. He opened the car door and started to emerge, I squeezed the trigger so very gently, saw his head snap back from the blow. I waited as still as before, then so carefully cleaned my den. Duty done on he who killed my son.
By Peter Rose12 months ago in Fiction
A walk in the countryside.
The rain fell straight down, no slanting due to wind, no swirling around. We shel-tered for a time, then braved the soaking that was to come, home was miles away and night was rushing towards us. Senses drowned and hope washed away, we walked unthinking and with no hope. The old lane flooded, and every step was a slip away from muddied misery. We did not speak nor think, one step more was all any could make. The light was fading, dark was near when we found shelter from the rain. Next time we go by train.
By Peter Rose12 months ago in Fiction
A walk in the park
The walk The sun was shining, the grass was dry, perfect for a stroll in the park, no need for hats or coats. We crossed the bridge and followed the stream down towards the lake. The sky darkened, black clouds covered the sun, the wind sharpened and froze our skin. Rain hammered down, fast, and dense. Visibility was nil and senses confused. We slithered and stumbled down to the lake. The water boiled, the ground rose and fell, opened up to natures hell. The shockwave passed, the buildings fell, our walk saved us from what killed the others.
By Peter Rose12 months ago in Fiction
The nature of reality
The nature of reality. I stood alone on the edge; then the world changed, and reality fled, what was knowing became doubt, what was certainty became unclear. my problem was not knowing, My mind was blank, and my muscles relaxed, just as I was taught. Then knowing flowed and the edge receded. Clarity and certainty followed the knowing I awoke and found my journey done. The robot surgeon said I was cured, now obedience was my creed. All is well with the world, and I believe every word.
By Peter Rose12 months ago in Fiction
A message from the past
A message from the past I am over 81years old, and I would like to try and explain, to the risk adverse people of today, why my generation find it hard to accept their attitudes. This is how it was when I was 18 years old. Pain and even hunger were facts of life, we accepted them as normal, everyone did, rich and poor.
By Peter Roseabout a year ago in Longevity