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Published on 2006-03-20 21:24:00
A Forbidden LandCopyright © 2006 Philip Raymond SadlerA cloud broke overhead. Rain pelted the dunes until the water ran in rivulets, quenching the extreme thirst of the hot sands.A man squatted beside a rock, sheltered from the howling wind which attempted to lash him with the large, heavy drops. He tried not to shiver. It was two days since he ventured into the desert, and, as the oracle predicted, he had been followed by wind and rain. Things he could do without. He had water enough to cross,
Published on 2006-02-06 04:31:00
From Rows Of Empty SeatsCopyright © 2006 Philip Raymond Sadler I speak the lines of plays not written,upon a stage not built.Crowds of people clap silent praise,from rows of empty seats.Future critics crawl from out the cracks withina paper littered outer walk,and deafly turn away.
Published on 2006-02-06 04:29:00
Will He RememberCopyright © 2006 Philip Raymond Sadler A lily, a wreath, a somberly dug grave.A man in a uniform, a soldier once brave.If the spirit can hearken to that which is said,will he remember why he is dead?Will he remember a war not his own,or his wife and his child who are left all alone?Will he remember the medal they gave,or will he remember being sealed in his gave?
