Parker Owens
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Everything posted by Parker Owens
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Skyscraper Love Story
Parker Owens commented on Parker Owens's story chapter in Skyscraper Love Story
One of the few times a parking lot mishap resulted in something other than muttered curses. Thanks for reading and for your comment! -
Skyscraper Love Story The phone rang, singing its little tune and, all unthinking, I answered it, only to hear the most unexpected music; not the drone of some unseen salesman, but the sweet melody of your voice. Misgiving ran throughout my old frame as I listened to explanations, convoluted situational conditions, and much-too-profuse apologies to break our appointment yet again. You never utter
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I enjoyed these first their imagery and for putting me in their scenes.
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There is so much that is unknown and unknowable to us now, I agree. My student’s family was bitterly split in a divorce. They didn’t talk to one another, and so I really do wonder if anyone in his so-called family remembers him now. Thanks for your thoughts, and for reading.
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Thank you, tim. Thank you for joining me in remembering the young man I knew early in my teaching. Through this poem, I’m able to grieve his departure from life. His presence remains in my memory, still young, still able to face the world. Life is indeed relentless.
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I fear many lives will be broken by the insanities of our times before we can begin to heal again.
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Thank you for your response to this set. That it evoked memories means a lot to me, even though they were sad-colored ones. I can’t help thinking about my former student to wonder what I might have said or done better, if only I had known. I hope your nests find new occupants this spring!
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This particular student comes back to my mind, over and over. He is definitely one for whom I wonder what if? He had no safe nest, apparently - not at school, not at home, and not after he graduated, either. I feel I failed him in that. Thank you very much for your thoughtful response.
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Still Remembered The hummingbirds pause on a barren ash tree branch, only to forget. ~ ~ ~ A few minutes ago I stood staring at a wooden coathanger, of all things. On it, in faded magic marker, is written the name of a student I once taught, decades ago. I still remember him: thin faced, sharp featured, blond and shorter than his peers; a scrapper, as one of his classmates called him. The
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Great A-level marks, and burgeoning independence; Liam seems to go from strength to strength. Yet we know what’s ahead: a cheerless room in a rundown flophouse.
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Everything Was All Right
Parker Owens commented on Jason Rimbaud's story chapter in Everything Was All Right
Some outcomes seem inevitable after they’ve happened; it’s the Daves of this world who spend themselves in hope who are heroes. -
So sad, yet the determination and the premonition were strong
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I also wondered whether Loy would be as well off as some thought. He’s sufficiently ingenious to figure out how to get an identity, but he and Kee need to survive a strange world which (in our own hindsight) seems increasingly hostile. Thanks very much for your very encouraging comments. World creation in this kind of way isn’t entirely easy for me. So much has changed in the seven years since this story was written!
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I enjoyed these couplet form poems very much. Thank you for sharing them.
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Chapter 91 The Barn Across the Road
Parker Owens commented on Headstall's story chapter in Chapter 91 The Barn Across the Road
I am rapt in your elegaic poem to that barn and that place and your time in it. You bring us to warm, dappled shadows in a hay mow, and all the boyhood adventure and delight to be found in it. This poem is a ray of sunlight on a cold, grey afternoon. -
2025 Poetry Anthology Announcement!
Parker Owens commented on Valkyrie's blog entry in Gay Authors News
Just saw this. That’s a very interesting word to consider. -
I feel awful that I somehow missed responding to your lovely and very kind comment on this story. I’m very glad that Robert and Ed’s tale resonated in some way with your own experience. I hope your new year brings you greater joy and peace. Thanks again.
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I thank you for your kindness in reading this story, and for your responses to it. So much regret enveloped each character, yet I hope that some ray of light - perhaps through Ed’s invitation - can seep through to each of them. May your new year be happy!
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This has been a highly engaging and engrossing story. There are many different issues, story lines and plot developments to follow, not least of which are the fates of great grandsons of Dom DeLuca. That they might learn with and from Oli and his rescued brothers will be unquestionably life changing. Wherever the story-light shines next will be fascinating.
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I distantly remember air-raid and fallout drills in grade 1; even then, nobody seriously believed the worst would happen. In this particular instance, a second grader dialed for emergency response. All too frequently, 200 times a year, the worst happens. So many feel powerless to change any of this, and too many of us feel like potential targets. More firearms will not make us less so, in my opinion. Thanks for reading and hearing my voice.
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Your responses from your legislators are akin to mine. Gun violence and gun death is so commonplace, that it seems to defy discussion. All I can hope is that if enough of us say aloud how it makes us feel, how it will move us to vote, then perhaps it’s worth all of us writing prose or poetry about it. Thanks for your comments.
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How is it that murder presented itself as a viable course of action in this case? What convinces a person of that? Thanks very much for reading and for your comments.
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Thanks for reading this. Your comments echo my cry of frustration. We cannot seem to agree on solutions, yet shouting and hand-wringing don’t seem to help, either.
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An Old Story Another school shooting, and again the screams and fear echo down the tiled hallways, rattling the lockers of the collective mind as little children learn what murder means firsthand; And then the media tumult thunders, their lights blind us; the noise of them with stories about this story makes us deaf to the cries of the children who cower under desks or in their homes, when all they really wanted
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I enjoyed reading this modern take on what became of Hell. I can’t help but think about Infernal Industries’ loss of customer interest occurring in parallel with a discernible loss of interest and belief in both Hell and Heaven. Does Infernal Industries rely on belief in order to attract customers? And I couldn’t help wondering what a modern day Dante would have noted as torture for modern sinners. It was most entertaining to read.
