robert rowe
Bio
Starting again...anything is possible in my imagination......stay tuned
Stories (21/0)
bottle time
time in a bottle do I dare remove the cork YOU are the BOTTLE...
By robert roweabout a year ago in Poets
no title
the color I am not green not pink indigo who are you I asked
By robert roweabout a year ago in Poets
Best parents ever.
Subconscious log number unknown, file data lost. Actual date sometime at 5am the summer of 1973. Get up son it's time to go. I don't want to get up dad! Let's sleep in I groaned. That is not an option son I'll be in the car. After driving for what seemed like a long time but it really wasn't, we arrived at our destination. It was a stocked lake in the middle of nowhere Ohio. I was sixish years old and about to embark on my very first fishing experience. The sandwiches were plain old peanut butter, but I remember somehow they tasted like 5 star cuisine after a few hours out on the lake when my dad pulled them out of that Coleman cooler.
By robert rowe2 years ago in Families
REFLECTION
I lost my dad. I lost my mom. I lost my job. I lost my way. With nowhere else to turn I turned inward. Inside was total darkness and silence was all I heard. Sitting with myself in nothingness unlearning all my beliefs, truly caused me to realize my only friend was grief. So, I continued to sit and be with me, until the realization that these thoughts were thieves. Suddenly as if from above, came the equation no expectations plus zero judgement equals self-love.
By robert rowe2 years ago in Poets
Duchess of Basset Hound
The year was 1974. The boy in the plaid pants is me and that is my first dog named Duchess. This picture was probably taken weeks before the storm that took out the doghouse behind us which was built by my father. Unfortunately for Duchess she was in said doghouse when the willow tree fell on it causing her to break her leg. It was a quick moving electrical storm and before I could bring Duchess inside our large willow tree was struck by lightning and fell onto her house which I'm sure she believed would protect her. I managed to get her out and inside and then to the veterinarian, with the help of my dad, but you could tell she was pretty shaken up. I was only six years old at the time and Duchess was almost twice my age at eleven. That's 77 in dog years. The trauma she experienced did not change the relationship between a boy and his dog, but it did change Duchess. We continued playing with tennis balls although she was much slower now after recovery and she was getting significantly older. The size of the willow tree was daunting, and Duchess was very lucky to escape with just a broken rear leg and I was very grateful to still have my childhood friend.
By robert rowe2 years ago in Petlife
Woodrow Wordsworth
What are words worth? Are they more precious when they are spoken or when they are written down? Or is it truly the thought that precedes the words that is priceless and unique? Can you buy and sell them or are they just worthless noise that never truly gets understood? Words for thought I suppose... Today I recount the fable of the world's youngest ever guru. He lives in the imagination that is in each and every one of us but has been covered up as we grow up. It lies dormant in the recesses of our childhood mind just aching to be awakened by spontaneous thought and joy; Revisited in a flash of music or a long-forgotten toy.
By robert rowe2 years ago in Fiction