Guest Author & Poet Judy Savoie of Grand Barachois, NB.

This week's post is a First for the Scribbler with a collection of poetry from our talented guest. .

Judy Savoie was born in Fredericton, N.B. and began writing poetry at an early age. This pursuit continued into her early 20’s when she became a technical writer at the University. She co-authored a learning directory after graduating from U.N.B. with a BBA and didn’t return to creative writing again until 2011, a traumatic year of personal illness, divorce and the loss of her stepfather.

Judy was able to turn difficulty into productivity by expressing her emotions through writing. While adapting to these many changes, she took an array of workshops to hone her writing skills. During the summer of 2012 at a cottage in Shediac, she spent an intense week of writing and meditation.

Judy is the author of two books. Her first, titled ‘Serendipity’ was launched in 2015 and is a collection of poetry, prose and song lyrics. It expresses a love of music, photography and nature; all elements that are nurtured by life spent near the beauty of the ocean. 

Her second book project, ‘All About Hats’ was completed in 2016 after much research and collaborates personal experience with a life-long passion for hats. Though lighthearted, it presents interesting stories, poetry and historical facts that demonstrate the influential role that hats have played in affecting all world cultures for countless centuries.

During the time that she undertook a summer hat business, her partner challenged her to write a book about ‘Hats’. After deciding to answer this challenge, she began her research and within four months the book was printed. Both books are available on the internet (lulu.com) or at various venues in Moncton where books are being sold. A third book that blends new poetry, songs and photographs is in the making and will be completed in the very near future.

 Judy is a member of the Writers Federation of New Brunswick, the ‘Shediac Writers Group’ located in Shediac, NB and is a participant of a group in Grand Barachois called ‘Women Who Write’.  

A major inspiration for her songwriting is derived from her partner, Gilbert Babin who is a talented musician/composer. Exposure to music that encompasses Acadian, Folk, Celtic, Jazz and Spanish has helped her to transfer from expressing herself in poetry to crafting lyrics for music composed by her partner; a transition that has been both immediate and seamless. She wrote fifteen songs for this new venue during the first year and another ten have been composed since that initial flurry of writing. Although she had never sung in a serious way, she discovered that she enjoyed doing so when Gilbert recorded her voice. This fulfilling collaboration was extended when they made a c.d. together that was included in Judy’s first book, ‘Serendipity’. Last year Judy held three book launches and accompanied by her partner, sang publicly for the first time.

 

Copyright is held by the author. Used by permission.

 

 

 

Apuka 

Faded photograph.

The young stranger that I see.

He has disappeared,

and only these tattered pictures remain. 

Yet I know this gentle man,

With tanned skin and deep wrinkles on his forehead.

This quiet man who molds who I am today.

Who others portrayed as a villain.           

I see an intensity in his eyes:

another country, another culture.

A familiar place I have not been to. 

I long to know that truth,

the dreams and aspirations of his youth,

before the damage done to him in the war. 

I study the image,

the faded black and white.

He is handsome,

slim like I remember him.

Carefree, quiet, lonesome. 

A bicycle at his side, a teepee-like hut in the foreground,

he blows into his harmonica. 

It's like the wind that woke me this morning,

or the train passing through the backyard bedroom window

of my childhood home. 

I know now.

he is here, somewhere.

 

 ****

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dune Shadows 

What were these grains?

Fossil, animal, human? 

Feel them with us.

Each speck of dust,

Gently caressing us. 

The ghosts of our past

Want us to know

Their history, legends, knowledge. 

They are forever with us

In a different form,

Watching, whispering,

In the depths of our consciousness. 

*** 

I arrive home,

Shake the sand from my garment,

Spray my feet with running water.

The bubbles tickle my toes

And I watch the sand swirl

down the drain. 

A vague feeling overcomes me.

I am clean but saddened at the realization.

I quietly reply goodbye,

To what very well could be part of me.

  ***** 

Little Bird (Fanny Power)

There was a young girl, her name was Fanny,

Her spirit so open, and light and free.

She knew in her heart, she was meant to be,

Patiently waiting his plea. 

Nearby, a boy, who could not see.

He never saw light, but he felt her glee.

He knew in his heart, where he wanted to be.

To live in her eternal beauty. 

Come little bird, come little bird, come little bird,

Come little bird, come little bird.

With you I shall flee,

Teach me to fly,

Soar with me high,

Until we shall die. 

One afternoon she lost her way,

She flew to the end of the earth to play.

She lost all her senses that very day.

Because he was too far away. 

His powerful thoughts were of her each May.

He missed her so deeply, he had to pray.

Her image was in him, was meant to stay.

A feather fell to the ground that day. 

Come little bird, come little bird, come little bird,

Come little bird, come little bird.

With you I shall flee,

Teach me to fly,

Soar with me high,

Until we shall die. 

Many years later, a man on the beach,

He plays his guitar in solace and peace,

His beautiful music, her ears they do reach,

She writes words that her soulmate can teach.

 

 *******

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

Smelt Cabins 

Randomly scattered

Square boxes.

Delicately placed

on a crystal platform.

 

Reflections below

are accentuated

By  the horizontal peach beam above.

Another breathtaking optical illusion

continues.

A gaze shifts to the left,

Two trucks, one cabin and one post,

Pose on the glassy surface.

On the opposite side,

the sun blazes,

As it fires up the sky.

 

The wharf’s silhuoette recalls memories

while it stares in stillness

Of moments below.

The brilliance gradually dims.

Then disappears.

As suddenly as it came.

We are left to marvel in the smoke.

 

  *****

 

Divine Reality

A vision of mind, a mission of heart,

Holds them together, yet tears them apart.

Though oceans away, through veins pump a youth,

Heart beats of legends, lost ashes is truth. 

The future amidst, a flurry of now,

Pasts soon are forgotten, none left to endow.

Will ever it change, fate being misled?

With eternal sun, their souls will be fed. 

When smoke disappears, then what will remain?

Remnants with nothing to prove what was gained.

 

  *****

 

My favourite hat story was at my mother’s private wedding ceremony to her partner of 30 years. My mother was married in September, one month before her partner passed away. It was a day of mixed emotions as everyone knew he had very little time left after a brave fight with cancer. My youngest son, 11 years old at the time, showed up at the small ceremony wearing a vintage top hat, dating back to the late-1800s to early 1900s, which my best friend had loaned him for the day. The strange part was that she had purchased the hat at an estate auction, and it happened to be my new step-dad’s late-father’s hat! My step-dad, his sister and his brother-in-law were delighted. Despite the fact that no one at the wedding was a hat person (except me), the boys and men alike took their turns wearing the top hat. I fervently took photos of their fun as they smiled from ear to ear. It was among one of the highlights of the day, fragile moments almost frozen in time, which somehow eased the sadness of knowing we were to lose someone very special soon.

 

Thank you Judy for being the guest this week on the Scribbler. Visit Judy's Facebook page. here

 

 

Watch next week when the Scribbler hosts John Nicholl of Wales for the 4Q Interview and an excerpt from one of his psychological thriller novels.

 

 

Guest Author Regina Puckett of Tennessee

Regina Puckett is an accomplished author  with her sweet romance Concealed in My Heart, steampunk book I Will Breathe, children’s picture book, Borrowed Wings, her poem Memories and book of poetry, Fireflies,  have all received awards of note.

She writes sweet romance, horror, steampunk, inspirational, picture books and poetry. There are always several projects in various stages of completion and characters and stories waiting in the wings for their chance to finally get out of her head and onto paper.

Copyright for the following excerpt is owned by the author and is used by permission.

Finding Libertry

Aapeli

Chapter One

 

When the airship entered the valley, Aapeli leaned over the railing to get a better view.  He never grew tired of looking at the pristine lake that took up much of the valley floor. It was the main water source for everyone who lived within a thirty-mile radius – the good and the bad. Stately pine and oak trees snuggled up close to the edge of the mountain, creating a wonderful hiding place for anyone interested in stealing his airship or killing him.

“Looks good so far.” He didn’t know when he had taken to talking to himself but took comfort in the fact there was no one here to witness it. Sometimes he just liked hearing a voice – any voice. The daily solitude was a way of life and had been for many years, but there were times he missed sharing ideas and words with someone else. It didn’t help knowing he was heading toward the loneliest place in the world - The Forbidden Lands.

Aapeli adjusted his goggles and leaned even farther over the railing, ever vigilant for what might be hiding in the forest. The nearby caves were supposedly inhabited by men who loved killing for the simple sport of it. The rumors were they ate their victims. In his twenty years of stopping at the foot of the mountains to refill the water tanks, there had never been any indication that these tales about the cave-dwellers were true.

It was quite possible the tall tales were just that – tall tales, but it didn’t hurt to keep a sharp lookout just in case there was some grain of truth in them. The last thing he wanted was to wind up on a roasting stick. It would certainly have been far safer to refill his water tanks elsewhere, but Big Lake was the nearest source of water before heading over the mountains into the Forbidden Lands.

Satisfied that all was well, Aapeli ran over to the helm and checked all the gauges before pulling a lever that sent a plume of steam into the air. Slowly but surely the airship began its descent. It skimmed over the tops of the trees before settling onto the bank of the lake.

 Aapeli patted Airus’s helm. “Way to go, girl. Another perfect landing.” A couple of turns on a large brass wheel lowered the anchor until he felt it hit the ground. To make certain it was secure he tugged it a couple of times before throwing the water hoses over the starboard side. Not wanting to lose his hat or goggles, he carried them over and set them down on the captain’s chair. They had belonged to his father, and to his grandfather and great-grandfather, so he felt it his duty to protect them.

Satisfied everything was secure, Aapeli lowered the ladder but then sat with one leg over the railing, casting a cautious eye over the area one more time. A flock of birds flew out of the trees closest to the lake.  He held his breath and listened for any unusual sounds, and when none came he rubbed his pocket watch for good luck before heading down.

Aapeli had nearly reached the bottom rung when an eerie wailing cut across the lake’s usual silence.  He halted, mid-step, and chills ran down his spine.

“What the hell?” Every sense snapped to full alert, and without thinking, he slipped the small handgun out of his jacket pocket before jumping the rest of the way to the ground. The lush, green grass assured a quiet landing.

Another cry filled the air, and he flattened himself against the ship and cocked the pistol. An unnerving silence then settled over the lake, somehow more alarming than the wailing.

Which direction had the high pitched sound come from? It was tempting to pull up anchor and get the hell out of here, but that would have meant backtracking to Little Lake. Damn. Totally unacceptable. It would set him back at least a couple of days. Not such a big deal any other time of the year but winter was quickly approaching. The delay could easily make the return trip over the mountaintop as dangerous as hell. The wind currents were unpredictable once freezing temperatures reached those higher altitudes. The added threat of snow was also a worry. Any extra weight would make Airus sluggish.

Another wail ripped through the stagnant air.

The smart thing would have been to get out of here for the crying had clearly drawn someone else’s attention.

“Shit.” To hell with being smart. Maybe someone needed his help, and so Aapeli stepped ahead, scanning the area again.

Something about the crying troubled him. It sounded more like a child’s sob than that of a man or woman. Was this one of the tricks the mountain men used to entice their victims?

“What are you going to do?  Shit or get off the pot?  Some mountain man is out there licking his chops, hoping you’re stupid enough to run right into his arms.” But none of the stories he had heard over the years had ever led him to believe the cave-dwellers were smart enough to pull such a trick.

“Mommy!”

“What the hell?”  It wasn’t possible for a grown man to disguise his voice enough to sound that much like a little girl. He stopped, stood on his toes and strained to see over the tall grass. He couldn’t chance it really was a child. How long before the cries drew the attention of someone looking for an easy meal?

“You can’t stand here all day.” With no firm plan in mind, Aapeli took off running, silently cursing himself with each step. He was a damn fool for taking such a chance and was probably going to wind up in someone’s soup pot tonight.

Keeping the pistol ready, Aapeli stopped every couple of steps to check around, in case someone had maneuvered themselves between him and his airship. When he turned to look ahead again, a movement at the tree line caught his eye.

Anger replaced apprehension. What kind of fool left their child alone in such a dangerous place? Aapeli ran across the open field toward the edge of the trees and stopped a few feet from the child, peering into the dense underbrush to make certain there was no one there waiting to attack. As best he could tell, they seemed to be alone and so he quietly approached the girl. 

Her big eyes watched his every movement so he slowly knelt in front of her, trying not to spook her. Her curly, red hair was filthy and matted. Tears had washed some of the grime off her face. A river of snot ran from her nose and dripped from her chin. Where was her mother? He looked over his shoulder at Airus and wondered what to do. He couldn’t very well leave her here without any protection but he couldn’t take her with him either.

“This is a damn fine mess,” Aapeli mumbled to himself as he scooted in closer.

With an innocent expression of curiosity, the girl eyed the shiny pistol before reaching out to touch it. Before she could, Aapeli put on the safety catch and slipped it into his duster pocket.

The little girl was no longer crying but was now drawing in ragged breaths.

“Where’s your mommy?”

She slipped a thumb into her mouth and hiccupped.

Before he could question her further, a shrill yell bounced down the mountainside. This time there was no mistaking the fact that danger was heading their way. Aapeli looked up toward the caves, seeing a mass of dark dots speeding toward the valley floor. He scooped up the little girl and took off running. Calmly, with each step, he mentally clicked off what needed to be done before takeoff.

The trip up the ladder took less time than it did down. Once onboard, Aapeli swiped his hat and goggles off the captain’s chair and there deposited the child. He vaguely noted that her tears had stopped and her big eyes watched him with interest, not fear. Sensing she could probably use some reassurance, he quickly patted the top of her head before running over and spinning the wheel that hauled up the anchor. That done, he dashed over to the portside and pulled up the ladder until it was all safely back on deck.

Feeling more secure now that no one could climb on board, Aapeli took a moment to look out at the herd of men rapidly running toward the airship. With them all bunched up and on each other’s heels it was hard to tell how many there were, maybe some twenty to thirty. By now they were at the furthest edge of the lake and heading in his direction.

“Damnation!” Aapeli checked that the little girl was still in the captain’s chair. She hadn’t moved but was sucking her thumb – a mystery sitting there that would have to wait to be solved after they were out of danger. Now at the helm, he increased the speed on the friction engine and opened the steam vent to release hot air into the balloon.

Even though the engine was running on it highest setting, it was an excruciating wait for the airship to lift off. Aapeli pulled out his pistol and looked over the railing. The crazed mob was now beating on the sides of Airus with their bare hands and large sticks.

Aapeli shook his head. If that was all they had, they were going to leave here disappointed. Since he had built Airus, he knew exactly how much punishment it could take and a few rocks and sticks were useless against its seasoned cedar planking.

He couldn’t decide whether to be afraid or amused at the sight of the ragtag mob. They were grabbing whatever they could and throwing it at the airship, as if that would be enough to stop it from taking off. Most of the missiles fell harmlessly to the ground but every now and then some would land onto the heads of those below. Of course that only stirred them into a more fevered pitch, but thankfully to no avail. Airus slowly gained altitude and climbed out of reach, the rocks and sticks no longer clattering against its hull.

Aapeli grinned and waved. The smile was all for show because their crazed growls and hoarse screams had unnerved him more than he wanted to admit. No doubt they would have torn him and the little girl into tiny pieces if they had gotten their hands on them.

Slipping the pistol back into his coat pocket, he returned to the helm and increased the steam pressure. He looked at the dirty little girl and sighed. Shit. What was he going to do with her? She was sucking on her thumb still but with renewed vigor, though there was no fear in her big brown eyes - only curiosity.

Lost for what to do or say, he again patted the top of her head. Her face lit up with a huge smile.

Before he turned back to the airship’s controls, he knelt in front of the captain’s chair, again hoping to reassure her. “I’ll stop by Shatter’s. I bet if anyone knows who you belong to, it’s him.”  That brought another bright smile. Someone was surely looking for this beautiful little girl. If she was his daughter, he would never stop searching until he’d found her.

With a new mission now before him, Aapeli headed Airus toward the local trading post.

 

 Thank you Regina for sharing your clever writing on the Scribbler.  Please visit her website below for more connections.

http://reginapuckettsbooks.weebly.com/index.html

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 
 
 
 

 

Please drop by next week when The Scribbler will feature Author and Poet Judy Savoie of Shediac, New Brunswick with a collection of poems.

 

4Q Interview with Drake Alexander - Vigilante - Fictional Hero!

Drake Alexander is the coolest guy on the planet! Okay, I’m biased. He’s my hero!  Ex- Canadian Soldier, heir to a family fortune. I’ve tracked him down in Mexico to have him answer a few questions for the 4Q Interview on the Scribbler. 

 

 

 

 

4Q: Thank you for taking some time from your adventures Mr. Alexander to answer some questions for your fans. Would you describe yourself as a vigilante?

 

DA: Hey Allan, you can call me Drake, none of that Mr. Alexander business.

Well, to answer your question, which I’ve been asked or accused of many times, if we accept the true definition of a vigilante in that I sometimes take the law into my own hands then I guess I’d have to say yes! My team and I try to be ever conscious of lawful procedure as we dig around the world to either capture or detain or if all else fails, to eliminate, some of the Earth’s scum that have total disregard for anything lawful. I’m not talking about a petty criminal but the truly evil, the killers, pedophiles, arms dealers, master thieves and other low life. We’re more like private investigators working to help law enforcement agencies but sometimes we have to step over the line to make sure that whomever we may be pursuing does not get to spend any more time as a free person. If I’m forced to kill them, I will. And no, I don’t lose any sleep over it. 

 

4Q: Okay then, Drake it is! Since we first met you in Dark Side of a Promise, we know that you married your long time sweetheart Beth Stone and now have a family. How do they feel about you placing yourself in danger so often?

DA: That’s always been a tough one.  As you know, when I was a boy and saw the Army Reserve manage war games on my grandfather’s property in Cocagne many years ago, I was enthralled by the uniforms, heavy battle vehicles, the guns and other weapons and the brawny men that served to keep our country free and Canada’s long role as peacekeepers and I decided then to become a soldier, to do my part. Of course my father was disappointed that I didn’t follow him or my mother’s family into the jewellery business that they had built over the years but I’m as stubborn as he was. When he came to realize that being a warrior was my destiny, he supported me all the way.

As far as my immediate family, my wife Beth has been a reluctant backer and has occasionally been part of my team when her expertise with disguises and shooting skills has been required. Since we first met as adolescents she has always known why I chose to be a soldier, hated it of course, due to our continuous separation when I was or still am in the field or worrying about me getting hurt or killed. She knows how I feel about lawlessness.  I admit, I’ve asked a great deal from her and it is our deep commitment to each other that makes us strong.

With my children at a young age, I’m thinking that perhaps the day may soon arrive when I will give up my gallivanting. I want to spend more time with them. They are still under the impression I travel for the jewellery business. I don’t want any of them to think my life or what I do might be glamourous.  Even though we all have the same goals and lifestyles that permit us the freedom we need, I owe it to my comrades, Williston Payne, Elijah and Plum Glass and Dakin Rush who have stuck beside me over the years to value our good luck and pursue safer avenues in our lives. We’re all getting older and travelling the world to place ourselves in peril is wearing thin. In fact as we speak, I’ve decided that this is my last caper. I’m not sure if it will end here in Mexico or if I’ll be alive next month but if I have the good luck to find the serial killer that has ravaged Central America for the last eighteen months, I think I’ll trade in my guns for a pen and write about it, maybe create a good book or two. 

 

4Q: I can’t wait to read those. Good luck! Please share a childhood anecdote or memory with us.

DA: I’ll have to think about that for a moment because I have so many.

Probably the first time I actually met my wife Beth. My parents and I lived in Massachusetts when I was younger and we spent our summers in Cocagne, New Brunswick in the house that had been in my grandmother’s family for decades. My father owned land across from the older house that bordered the waters of the Northumberland Strait. When he decided to build a house there, we spent three weeks in New Brunswick one winter when he finalized the details of the work to be done with the contractor doing the work starting that spring. I had the opportunity to go to the nearest ski hill with several of my summertime friends. I had never skied before so in the morning I took lessons and by mid morning I was feeling confident enough to try a larger hill. When I got off the lift, I made it safely to what looked like an easy run. It was not. At the top of the first rise was a gaggle of young ladies and Beth was part of the group. I figured I was doing well enough that if I was careful, I might impress the ladies. Not so.

I had to pass in front of the group to make my way downward and as I did, the girls all fell silent and then I slipped. I slide seventy feet to the bottom but one ski stayed halfway up. To say I was embarrassed would be an understatement. I couldn’t imagine any thing being worse until Beth, with the grace of a true athlete, swished down the hill, grabbed my errant ski without even stopping and brought it to me. By then she couldn’t stop herself from laughing. When the other girls gracefully slid by me, she smiled and I melted. Her parting words soothed me a bit when she told me the same thing happened to her. I can’t remember ever having my ego deflated as much since but I’ll never forget how beautiful she looked at that moment. 

 

4Q: Many readers of the Dark Side of a Promise always wondered why someone whose childhood and growing-up-dreams of being a soldier did not make it a career. You chose being a grunt instead of officer school. You were part of the Canadian Special Forces with Joint Task Team 2.  What happened?

DA: I don’t talk about that much because it is still a major disappointment that I could no longer serve my country in the capacity of the Armed Services. Very briefly, I was with a small contingent of Canadian soldiers in Desert Storm. During our deployment, one of the American soldiers we had formed a bond with and one of our men were captured during a clandestine operation. Delta Company pulled our asses out of a bad situation returning us to base.  For reasons we were never told, the military would not mount a rescue operation even though our allies knew where they would be. I couldn’t live with that. I vowed to never leave any man behind. I disobeyed orders. With two fellow soldiers and a crafty stick pilot, we hijacked a heavy lift Chinook and did it ourselves, and in the nick of time I might add. We saved their lives but the Forces thought differently. When the dust settled we were given the opportunity to accept an honorable discharge or be court martialed. That’s it. 

 

Thank you Drake for this candid interview.

 

 

You can meet him in the international thriller Dark Side of a Promise which highlights events that took place in 2004. Alexander has made a promise to his best friend to find the man that killed his sister!  

 

 
In the newest adventure an amateur rock climber makes an amazing discovery in 1953 only to lose the secret for another fifty years until a close friend of Drake’s rediscovers it and has to run for his life from the clutches of Spanish raiders as they chase forgotten gold in Peru. The story is called Wall of War and will be available in fall 2016.

 

 Watch here for more details!

 

 

 

 

Next week the Scribbler is pleased to have Regina Puckett of Tennessee as our guest author.