tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-89076765902332569212023-11-15T17:45:20.103+02:00The Fourth RStories by ValliaLeah, of all styles and sizes. Comment away!ValliaLeahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06328230632796990884noreply@blogger.comBlogger7125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8907676590233256921.post-36264850673415953082012-10-15T03:46:00.000+02:002012-10-15T03:47:24.276+02:00Regent
Regent
My son William has not ruled for very long, and I intend to ensure he stays in power. I know this is not an easy task, and it is not one from which I can remove my attention for an instant.I never trusted myself to hide a diary perfectly, but I find myself forced to keep one for the first time in many years- there is so much going on in my life, I need some way to record it all and ValliaLeahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06328230632796990884noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8907676590233256921.post-65593521311259523802010-04-09T05:22:00.002+03:002010-04-09T05:28:24.840+03:00The PianistThe Pianist Her hands were not small, but they were graceful as they carefully picked out a difficult piece in A minor on the grand piano.“How can you play here? Out in public, and in this heat?” I asked incredulously.She looked up at me, unsurprised at my sudden appearance at her side although she had every right to be. “The sound is very clear- piano wood is very strong, and doesn’t get easily ValliaLeahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06328230632796990884noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8907676590233256921.post-47370261124464706982010-01-21T06:15:00.007+02:002010-04-29T07:07:39.546+03:00Happiness: Comfort or Truth?Truth Confronting Ease Some say happiness is found in ease,some say in truth.For when I lounge and ease desire,I find a gnawing ravenous mire.But when I turn to face a lackI think I know enough of truthTo say that in life, hurdlesleapt are morethan all else I can accquire.Inspired by the Robert Frost poem Fire and Ice, after hearing some people today who truly believe happiness is about ValliaLeahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06328230632796990884noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8907676590233256921.post-87304477593764581362009-11-22T22:15:00.001+02:002009-11-22T22:16:33.146+02:00Story of MineStory of MineStory of mine, how you call to me, call to me,saying I've left you there just as you wereI remember a time when your unfolding was all to meBut as at first, when your page was dear.Can it be real, all that I hear? Give to me of yourselves, then,Moving through the pages as I drew nearFilling in what waited for me: yes, as I planned you then,Even to the original twists and turns.Or is ValliaLeahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06328230632796990884noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8907676590233256921.post-28282709200409068192009-06-30T03:35:00.001+03:002010-04-29T07:08:37.257+03:00The Early Hours- PoemThe Early HoursThe crowded mind rebelsagainst the crush of matterand the press of timetaking what is given not as it was intendedreturn to senderreturn to sendermultihued geomes gyrate, kaleidescope new huesagainst the pressing darkand the hollow empty spacesencountering a light breezenear-silent whirrcrisp linens offer ill protection from the elementsA quiver of supressed movementheaving ValliaLeahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06328230632796990884noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8907676590233256921.post-13126284039082391832009-01-06T14:35:00.005+02:002009-11-22T22:22:40.022+02:00Hangman's Rope“What’s that on the mantelpiece, little girl?”Mr. Brunner had always made me nervous- his unctuous flattery to my mother and me on his way into my father’s study had always seemed slightly creepy, but I didn’t want him to tell Father that I’d been rude to him.“A rope,” I said, not looking up at him but keeping my eyes on the needlepoint I’d been working on.“A rope, sir.”“Sir,” I repeated ValliaLeahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06328230632796990884noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8907676590233256921.post-34444363742000525282009-01-01T15:51:00.001+02:002009-06-30T03:38:06.371+03:00Prison ExchangePrison Exchange"Mazal tov," the large man in the grey suit said gloomily. He passed the chunk of stale brown bread to his companion, a skinny man with a ratlike pointed nose and beady eyes. "You've got your wish.""Yes, and I'd like to thank you." The skinny man passed him an equal-sized chunk. "I know you think I'm being silly and that I'm in denial about the reality of our situation.""You are.""ValliaLeahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06328230632796990884noreply@blogger.com0