Category Archives: David’s Stories

David’s Stories – “Standing on the Dock of the Bay”

“Standing on the Dock of the Bay”

Beneath the sun I stand to rest upon the white wooden dock my grandfather built, long before I existed. I am now an adult but continue to want a dog and a bicycle wherever I go. I create my own fun and my imagination is endless if I allow it to be. Standing here on the dock of the bay brings me back to my school age years. I remember young and fearless friends sailing off the dock to reconnect with the big black inner tube set adrift. The high and low dive and the water slide that is no more. Those summers of my youth were almost enough fun for a lifetime.

I disappeared for many years to redefine my life, have a career and become a professional in the big city. It is good to become educated as long as you never forget where you came from. My grandfather told me this and I took it to heart so I purchased the property many years later, remodeled the old house and moved in with my golden retriever at the beginning of winter. The house is quiet and I can work in solitude on my books. Then came spring and the noise of a red airplane filled the sky and landed at the dock of the bay. The man is incredibly charming, fit and tall, and yet I still told him that this is private property. He smiled and introduced himself and I remembered that name from long ago… from this very dock, a childhood friend, one who flipped off the high dive in style to land with the clean, small splash. His calm demeanor won me over.

By the end of the summer he calls to tell me, “Stand on the Dock of the Bay.” Being a romantic at heart, I put on a dress and hat and peddle quickly with Goldie by my side. Standing on the dock of the bay I can hear his engine throttle, I can see his red plane and I feel his words for the first time, “I Love You.”

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David’s Stories – “Spring Unveiling”

"Sunrise"

“Spring Unveiling”

Everyday we work in solitude.  Creativity is the name of the game here in the woods.  We grow and stretch and thrive like giant wilder beasts in the forests, pushing new shoots and leaves whenever we want.  Well, that’s not exactly true, you see, we have a contract with the seasons; there are four of them these days.  Us trees have to follow this protocol or we are banned from the forest.  It’s not as bad as you think, we have a really good life, I mean we are not rushing to go anywhere.  We never get stuck in traffic.  No, we get to stay put and set up shop right here, forever.  I wish you folks could do the same and spend more time with us.  Where are you rushing too?

My favorite season is Spring.  We dropped all our leaves a few months earlier and now here we are radiant and glorious in our splendor.  Imagine that!  Being bald is a strange concept.  We are not cold during the winter despite the fact we lost our jackets.  And now we have turned a new leaf.  The wise tree picks a color and we follow like birds in flight.

The sun in our friend.  We grow higher and higher into the brilliant blue to bathe in her warmth.  But don’t worry!  Our long shadows are cast for you.  They glitter and POP and if you turn from side to side they sparkle in your eyes to show you we will always be close.  Remember to look in the shadows.  This is the start of your spring unveiling.

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David’s Stories “Riding out the Storm”

Riding Out The Storm

“Riding out the Storm”

Tumultuous bearing on the once blue sea…it is now near black and cold creeps in as if the bottom of the ocean has risen angrily to meet it’s compatriot of disillusion, the sky. Grand winds whip the surface of water. Torment presses the ocean to act out in it’s uncompromised callouse nature upon the small beach town.

Most folks have fled town for fear of being swept away. The lights flicker like fire crackers popping off in the windows. Dark clouds push in to blanket the town in wet molasses.

I am alone now. I ride to the beach with my golden dog. The waves have pushed the sand up over the roads. I am scared for a moment until I notice a sign-it says GO. My heart beats wildly as if an opportunity is just ahead. What could this mean? My dog barks and the sun shines down on us like a spotlight. “GO!” I take a deep breath, start peddling, and ride out the storm.

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David’s Stories – “Finding Spring” & “Spring Has Sprung”

Finding Spring

“Finding Spring”

Spring has Sprung

“Spring Has Sprung”

The wind blows to scatter the clouds. The clouds react with vigilance, coiling upward into the dark blue stratosphere. The radiant sun burns through the retreating dark clouds of winter. Cold air is no more, and the sun kisses the earth to expose it’s trade of everything in bloom. From a distance, the sound of a lawnmower cuts through the air, bringing about the fresh smell of trimmed grass and blooming flowers.

The man and woman finish their breakfast, stare out into the clearing sky, and pull out their bicycles while the dog runs in circles with excitement. The man adjusts her seat and pumps air in the tires. Before you know it they are finding spring.

The man is a different creature then the woman. He leaves her side and climbs high into the clouds, much higher then he has ever reached before, showing fearless virtue, that nothing can be accomplished without risk. The woman laughs and kicks her legs out to take off, but now is not the time; instead, she is the rudder to the man’s determined soul, and in return, the man is that for her.

As days pass and life changes gears, the man and his dog realize that “Spring has Sprung”.  Again, they take to the high road to reach the summit of such divine providence. The sinking sun brings life to the grounded woman in the form of a shadow being stretched out like black tar across the land. And from this childlike manifestation, she stretches her arms out to embrace spring, and most importantly, her freedom.

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David’s Stories – “Martini Trees”

“Martini Trees”

Focus not on yourself you tired soul. Grab a bed of grass and lay like leaves fallen from my branches. Relax. Listen to the earth young man. Can you feel my roots growing just beneath your little restless body? I didn’t think so, but nonetheless they are there, and I am here towering high above with my three friends, watching you, wondering what you’re thinking about. I hope happiness has found you these days in all that you do. I mean that with every fiber of wood that brings me life.

You know something, we are a lot a like, you and I. We both need water and food and air and especially the sun so we can grow to be strong. I know, I know, I’m running off at the branches, it’s just that you haven’t been here in a while, and I get lonely from time to time: do you know what I mean?

I know you are burdened with your own issues…, job, family, your country, good Lord.. This is not a joke. I really am concerned, what with allthe turmoil these days. We really wish more of you could relax, right here in the grass, enjoying our soft breezes, warmth and color. We like circles, big green booming circles like delicious olives bouncing up and down from branch to branch. Say! Would you like a martini?

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David’s Stories – “Art I. Choke”

Art I. Choke

“Art I. Choke”

The arbitary man is nothing more than that.  He is an abatement to his own creed.  A double standard.  The rules, here be it, at par excellence in his mature years.  Arthur Irving Choke has climbed the corporate ladder, created success for himself and others.

He has determined in his glorious high rise and incredible wealth that pollution and waste are deteriorating the fabric in which we live in.  Due to this vernacular testimony, he fires himself, leaves the city and becomes an artichoke.  Never forgetting his roots, he adjusts his tie like a champion and allows new thoughts to emerge.

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David’s Stories – “Duck, Duck, Goose!”

Duck, Duck, Goose!

 “Duck, Duck, Goose!”

The destination is set from Menlo Park to Detroit.  The two ducks and goose have eaten well and slept just the same.  The wood boat is rolled out on the tarmac before Edison and his fowl.  The great man searches the faces of his beautiful birds to realize there is no fear, but anticipation of the first cross country flight without any layovers or use of contaminant fuels.  Leather harnesses are snapped gently around the feathered necks.

The birds bob too and fro like a sprinter containing his wits before a race. The great man named Edison climbs aboard his wooden ship, checks a few things and has a seat against the central lighthouse.  He feels confident and prepares for lift off by buckling in.  The flight attendant hands him a book for reading.

Ducks flap their wings at rapid movement and the creaky wood vessel lurches forward down the runway.  The goose stretches its wings to each end of the sky and the ship leaves earth for blue and occasional cotton balls. Ten hours later, Duck, Duck, and Goose, set Edison down in Detroit.

The birds eat seeds and crackers while the great man proposes and idea of Fowl Transportation to his friend Henry Ford.

Henry had a better idea.

He sat all his staff in a large circle and patted their heads while saying “Duck, Duck, Duck, Duck….” After two or three circles of this, Henry suddenly roared GOOSE, thus bidding his employee to chase him around the circle until he made it back to the now unoccupied seat.

Contracts were drawn up and the two men became creators for the game

Duck, Duck, Goose….

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David’s Stories – “Club Graffiti”

Club Graffiti“Club Graffiti”

Night fall broke and the town swelled with a delicious variety of well-dressed people, opulent billboards and the ambiguous hewn of mysterious city life.  Auto’s rushed this way and that. Men opened car doors to retrieve their beauties.

Long lines formed as coats and money was exchanged furtively.  Big, dark men with full chests opened the cold metal doors.  The wait was worth its weight in gold.  Multifarious smiles spread across those faces that entered

“Club Graffiti”…knowing they would let loose of what they knew themselves to be.

Lightning shot across the sky to the shattered glass sheltering the midnight sun and emblazing the piano’s hood.  Red women danced and red men swung and a fever hit the floor and the piano sang the songs the piano’s sing. It was a good night for all.

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David’s Stories – “Killing Time”

KILLING time

“Killing Time”

The dark area in which a candle flicker of light is seen, less the candle.  Objects are moving effortlessly, floating in this space between ourselves.  Possibly within ourselves.  Nothing is heard but a delightful sound of crisp wind, like ocean waves lapping to our ears, settling us, calming us, until the next explosion drums forth on its intentional killing of time.  A clock explodes.  The sound of broken Glass and shattered instrumentation impairs dissidence to the younger woman on her journey and how times tries to control her aging, h er ideas and eventually her death.

But the power, beauty and intelligence of this woman is more eduring than any clock could suffice.  By doing so, she remains tall, confident, with gun in hand and little else.  Beguiling fun erupts.  A banana train makes no intentional stops.  It wavers on the sand and pumps billiard balls for her just delights.  She is delighted, in fact happy.

Life is not what it is, but what it should be and she will find this out along the way without a tick tock, tick tock, for she is killing time…

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David’s Stories

David writes creative stories for some of his paintings.   Click below to learn more about each piece.

"Riding out the Storm"

“Riding out the Storm”

“Spring Unveiling”

Spring has Sprung

“Spring has Sprung”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Finding Spring

“Finding Spring”

"Duck, Duck, Goose!"

“Duck, Duck, Goose!”

Art I. Choke

“Art I. Choke”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Club Graffiti

“Club Graffiti”

"Martini Trees"

“Martini Trees”

"Killing Time"

“Killing Time”

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