My California – new book now available

Tags

California, poetry

Find it here on Amazon.

Of Life To Come

First published in As Surely as the Sun.

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Extol the Lord’s striking wonders.

Behold exalted majesties.

Take measure of a blithe bluebird

lifted on currents by His breath.

Eye jaunty poppies in gay praise

as they dance with unfettered joy.

.

Rejoice over His creations:

the first gasp of a newborn lamb,

a hatching chorus in new song,

the healing goodness of soft rains,

the sight of picturesque sunsets.

May all mankind be of good cheer.

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Early morning skies are laden

with His celestial glories.

Gulls pirouette in light-hearted

pavanes of praise and high above,

clouds cavort in playful frolic,

miracles of His handiwork.

.

Come near, Oh Lord, my guiding light.

Share your vision of life to come.

Grant us wellsprings of joy from your

heart to rejoice in this new day.

Fred Miller’s Publications

Tags

fiction, Literary, Literature, short stories, South Carolina, writing

Fred’s first short story, The Wedding, was published in 2003 in Puckerbrush Review, a print publication edited by the New England Poet Laureate Constance Hunting. Other stories by Fred have appeared in these publications: The Houston Literary Review, The Front Porch Review, Skive Magazine (Australia), Corner Club Press, Writing Raw, Scarlett Rosebud, Troubadour 21, Dew On The Kutzu-a Southern Ezine, Static Movement, Eunoia Review (Singapore), Roar & Thunder (Australia), Kaleidoscope, Bartleby Snopes, The Cynic Online, Muscadine Lines: A Southern Journal, Oxford Today, Connotation Press: An Online Artifact, Bewildering Stories, The Literary Yard (India), Fiction on the Web (UK) DuLugstSoSchon (Germany), Eskimo Pie, Deep South Review, Fabula Argentea, The Fable Online (UAE), Through The Gaps, The Linnet’s Wings (Ire.), Jellyfish Review (Indonesia), Donut Factory, Down In The Dirt, Potluck, Dime Show Review, TreeHouse Arts, AWS (Can), The Flash Fiction Press, Scarlet Leaf Review, The Charles Charter, Corvus Review, 50-Word Stories, Storgy, CommuterLit (Canada), The Wagon Magazine (India), Quail Bell Magazine, Literary Heist (Canada), Ariel Chart (Australia), New Reader Magazine ( NY, London, Hong Kong, The Philippines), CafeLit (UK), Paragraph Planet (UK), Furtive Dalliance, Adelaide Literary Magazine, Spillwords, Little Rose Magazine, The Creativity Webzine, The Literary Yard, Potato Soup Journal, The Ink Pantry (UK), Anti Heroin Chic, Academy of Heart and Mind, A Story in 100 Words, Six Sentences, Fine Lines, Page and Spine, FreedomFiction, Winamop, Writers Club, Grey Thoughts, Imspired, Storgy, Agape Review, Trouvaille Review, Poetic Sun, Sequoia Speaks, Discretionary Love, Soul-Lit, Littoral Press UK, The Bluebird Word, Westward Quarterly, As Surely as the Sun, and Literally Stories (UK).

 

 

All of Fred’s stories are edited by

Muffy Harman

(muffyharman@bellsouth.net)

Morning Prayer

First published in Agape Review

My transgressions weigh heavily upon me,
Oh Lord. Among the blameless, I do not belong.
Yet, with the morning sun, you lift my heart 
with steadfast forgiveness and abiding love....

Read the rest here.

The New Day

First published in Westward Quarterly

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The New Day                                                

Declare his kindnesses                                                

to the morning glories.                                      

Shout out His goodness                                         

to picturesque rainbows.

Listen to bluebirds sing 

of his abiding love.

.

Rejoice and behold the

majesty of His creations.

Behold the joyful cry of a

newborn to His kingdom.

Cry out with His praises

for all creatures to hear.

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The planted seed rises up

in gentle praise of His light.

Golden wheat dances in waves

to the sweet taste of His rains.

Hills of sturdy vines bear

harvests rich in His name.

.

Blankets of stars across the heavens

boast of His continuous light.

A harvest moon rises over teeming 

seas to recall His abiding watch.

Choral voices announce the new day

in refrains of the promises He has made.

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Be of good cheer and praise His name.

In heaven God reigns in splendid grandeur.

New book available

Available here.

Shells

Tags

Literary, poetry

First published in The Bluebird Word

Like a federation of flowers
with slick, shiny faces,
they sparkle in the light from above.

And dance with tiny ripples
that lap up on the shore by my toes.
Are those conspiratorial smirks I see?….

Read the rest here.

Three Poems in Agape Review

The Breech

Like sly evening shadows 
that slip toward the maw of dusk,
my days have begun to fade in time.

Pushing, struggling, shuffling, 
I stir knowing all will soon erode 
toward the eternal dust to come.... 

Read the rest here.

Wonders of the Spirit

Have you seen the iridescent breast of a
hummingbird in reflections of morning light?

Have you heard the echoes of a mockingbird
announcing his new perch in a stalwart oak?

Perhaps you have gazed on anxious moonbeams
a-sparkle over light-hearted, chattering brooks....

Read the rest here.

River of Dreams

River of my dreams
flowing passively by,
yet immersed in unbridled
joy watching moonbeams
in rhythm with ripples below.... 

Read the rest here.

Tomorrow

First published in Imspired.

A shimmering light flanks a storm 
of guests aflush in the widened doorway.
Tired shoes flagged by time and pale garb
draped over supple girths await
the coming advance toward treasures
and passing fancies of hidden deceit....

Read the rest here.

In-N-Out

Tags

poetry

Parked on a bench near the corner, 

she sat with one hand clutching a purse,

the other one rocking a stroller. 

In the gentle mist, I came to a stop 

and eased out of the car. With an umbrella, 

I moved to her side as a downpour ensued.

.

With her narrowed eyes locked onto mine, 

she said, “It took you long enough to get here.” 

“Ma’am?” I said. “Aren’t you from the studio?” 

she said. “Um, no, I just stopped to offer 

you cover from the rain,” I said. 

Well… Cecil is taking his sweet time, you know.”

.

“Are you sure you’re not from the studio?”

 “I’m sure.” It was becoming harder 

to hear her voice in the thumping rain. 

I looked down the street at a red and 

white awning. “Perhaps I could offer 

you some lunch.” “I could eat,” she said.

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“And we can get your baby out of the rain.”

She laughed and looked under the sunshade 

of the baby carriage. “You hear that, Marcus?

You’re a baby.” She cackled as I peered 

into the carriage and saw a small dog standing,

his tail in vigorous motion.

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At the door of the fast-food eatery, 

she parked the buggy by the door

and pulled a tarp up over the sunshade 

to prevent the rain from reaching the dog. 

“You behave, Marcus. I’ll be back 

with something good for you,” she said.

.

As we stepped into the restaurant, 

she paused and looked up at me. 

“You recognize me?” she said. I gazed 

at the short, plump gray-haired woman, 

her tattered sweater held together with safety pins. 

“Um, no, I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure,” I said.

.

“I’m Miriam, Miriam McKinney. I was in Cleo’s entourage 

in the movie Cleopatra. That was my debut film. Cecil said 

my work was splendid and he’d call when he needed me next. 

Damn him, he’s taking his sweet time. I’m a star. My time is coming

though, I know it is,” she said. She was looking at a compact mirror 

and wiping away heavy eyebrow liner that had run in the rain.

.

We moved toward the counter where an associate 

in a paper cadet hat stood beaming at us. “May I 

help you?” he said with a big toothy grin. “What 

will you have, Miriam?” I asked. She never broke 

eye contact with the young man at the counter. She barked,

“Gimme a cheeseburger, animal style and a side of fries.”

.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, “and you, sir?” he said, 

his eyes widening. I gazed up at the wall menu. 

This was a new experience for me, but before I 

could say anything, Miriam barked, “Give him a 

Double-Double with fries and give us two pink lemonades,”  

she said as she shuffled away toward a table.

.

My billfold in hand, I asked, “What do I owe you?”

The associate, his smile unwavering, said, “The guest 

ahead of you has paid for your order.” I looked around. 

No one was there. Though puzzled, I said, “Thank you, 

thank you very much.” “A name for the order, sir?”  

he said. Miriam shouted across the room, “Cleo.”

.

When I arrived at the table, she pulled 

a faded newspaper from her purse, and 

unfolded it. Her finger moved 

to a photo on a page. “That’s me to the right 

of Cleopatra. Claudette got it right. Liz overplayed  

the part.” She shook her head. “What a disaster.”

.

With almost no delay, I heard the paper hat associate

shout, “Cleo.” I stepped up to the counter and took

the sack and two drinks. When I returned to the table,

Miriam had replaced the newspaper in her purse

and was looking at her fingernails. I sat down and 

handed the sack to her so she could retrieve her sandwich. 

.

She stood, grabbed the sack and one of the drinks and looked 

down at me. “Are you sure you aren’t with the studio?” 

“I’m sure,” I said. “Well, I thank you and Marcus thanks you,” 

she said. She quickly turned and was gone. Flummoxed, 

I peered down at the red palm motif on the cup 

and drummed my fingers in rhythm with the rain.

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“IN-N-OUT” is one of fifty-three poems in Fred’s new

book “MY LA, Poems by Fred Miller,” available on

Amazon.