I Sleep on Sheets...

Sometimes I write stories, sometimes they are thoughts or concepts, sometimes they are statements toward humanity, sometimes they are photographs, and then sometimes they resemble poetry.

My kind of poetry of complex contemplations written to provoke deeper thought and often smiles of personal remembrance of the reader living their own poetry.

I was beyond exhausted, yet sleep evaded me to the point that I forced myself back to the computer to write the thoughts that kept me from my slumber. I did little editing the next day, in my eyes none was needed. It all made sense and it still does... peace

I sleep on sheets…

I sleep on sheets that have absorbed the blood and ink of a bonding moment that can never be taken away or erased.

I sleep on sheets that have witnessed a loving massage of a newly discovered oil that will forever bring smiles of knowledge.

I sleep on sheets that felt laughter vibrate itself throughout souls of those who are happy.

I sleep on sheets that contain the dried moisture of those who did not allow gravity to rule.

I sleep on sheets that secured breaths of whispered passion.

I sleep on sheets that ended a drought of trust.

I sleep on sheets that caressed skin of those who caressed.

I sleep on sheets that hold the secret of time.

I sleep on sheets that allowed friends to glide on overlapping paths while remaining on their own.

I sleep on sheets that captured a long overdue reunion between entities that have been lost at times.

I sleep on sheets that honor the bond that God created between those who know love.

For one more night I sleep on sheets that will inspire pleasant dreams of a long awaited reality.

Peace….. Jon Hunker - July 2010

Writing a Smile

Below is about many who occupy my thoughts; some I know by name, others by sight, and still others only in dreams...

Writing a smile…

Interesting concept to be able with words to write smiling thoughts or events to cheer another to the place of happiness. Eve has kept this goal near. I can feel it floating gently throughout my mind causing electromagnetic pulses to my fingers as I think of how to cause the smile that we both seek. You to experience the tightening of cheeks widening your smile and flashing teeth. Me to view that heavenly vision face to face.

So it is up to me yet again. To calm your soul and help release the Spirit that is Eve to the world. How can I achieve this quest? Well it would be easy in person while enjoying each others company. Conversation filled with emotion spoken in soft tones for your ears only. Friendly hugs of understanding… a dance or ten, fast at first before we find the groove like we have before that turns us into actors in expression while we roll play the message of the tune… cold beverages to let the truth out, the truth that hides itself until it finds a link missing in the armor of distrust that encases us individually in similar fashion… those three words that are whispered quickly like warm breath released in mid-winter with the reply refreshing like the chilly air.

But until we find the time to spend together I can think of two ways to bring that heavenly smile back. One to write a story for all about one of my adventures long past. The second, better for just the two of us…something to look forward to doing together. You know we will laugh and laugh and laugh some more. We will enjoy life with abundant smiles that ooze from every pore of our being. We will dance with abandon at life’s blessing. Enjoying joy and peaceful harmony that only friends joined at the soul can achieve.

Between that and a future escapes our friendship will solidify into a strong unbreakable base that you can always rely being beneath you. Dinner by my hands with red wine to sip followed by a movie or just a verbal exchange, sounds like an invitation to peaceful smiles.

The moon is back dancing along the tree tops. A luminous orb of certainty against the dark satin sheet of night. I find comfort in the sight for it reminds me of pleasant white sands and dark surf of vacations past. The book we are writing unfolds new surprises page by page. We are not the kind of readers that flip to the ending of a story. We are the kind to savor each sentence to avoid missing important concepts and details of the story. After all the beginning is life and the end is start of the sequel. It’s the pages in between that are important.

Be at Peace Eve… and smile because life feels better when you do…

jch - June 2010

Greetings Friends,

Recently I have exposed several individuals to this site. To those of you whom are new visitors having not viewed the happenings, stories, or photographs of our meeting or chance encounter have no doubts that soon (after yet another editing session) you will read what I have perceived. While I do not ask for forgiveness, I find myself falling behind on projects mostly due to my willowy mind coupled with the lack of focus. I am hoping that my upcoming vacation will clear the paths between my creativity and fingers waiting instruction.

I thank you for your patience with the hopes of your return visits. Notes for the following with titles that still may change; Mystery Maiden with Gold Shoes... Her middle name is Elizabeth... Dumb Ass said with a Smile... Raven Hair Ballerina... Mom with a New View...

Peace,

jch

"Closets in My Heart"

I find myself attempting to write about what to do with past Loves of my life. Once you speak those three magic words to another human can that commitment ever really leave?

For me the answer is unquestionably "No". If I have searchingly looked into a woman’s eyes with my own; opening the gateway to my secrets and said that love filled my heart with the thoughts of her; no matter how it ended or why, my emotion of that love still resides in my heart.

So, what to do with all those "unique to an individual" thoughts of love that are floating around together like miniature water bumper boats you see at amusement parks? Each one center steered by the woman in control of her own craft. You can’t often let them collide into each other because the brain will automatically start comparing the two or three and that can cause several different “real life” occurrences.

It can make it extremely difficult to locate the next love candidate since she would have to live up to my personal expectation of the best features of several women. Or it could give you fuel for the next solo encounter of personal release which for me is not always at a convenient time or place. So to avoid these collisions I started building closets in my heart.

Every woman whose love consumed me for even the briefest moments in time gets a closet constructed just for her. Built from loving experiences fastened together with nails and glue of painful hurt. As the relationship dies the carpenter of logic moves through my mind and soul leaving filtered out lessons learned from the time spent with the woman. He collects as he travels my innermost thoughts and feelings then begins construction.

I keep the lessons from both ends of the life meter with ecstatic on one side and disbelief on the other; the rest is tossed into the closet without regard to order or placement. As the relationship ends the door is closed with a loud mental “click” as the handle snaps up into position.

Depending on the nature of the love, of how deeply it affected me, or how comprehensive a relationship it turned out to be, a padlock of distrust might be added or additional nails of disappointment driven through the door into the structure creating an object more resembling a coffin than a closet.

The little man that represents my glimmer of hope installs a one way viewing port on each closet much like brass mail slots on the front doors of old Victorian houses. Adding individualistic beauty as well as giving me the ability to insert lingering emotions of compassion without having to reopen the door.

Deep down in the essence of my heart exists an alternate universe of closets positioned neatly in a long column. No names are needed to identify whom each one represents because of the unique variation of materials much like subdivisions built by the government post World War II. Some of the closets are merely a few shelves while others are walk-in types, reminding me of the miniature boutiques in Las Vegas casinos.

From time to time a woman who initiated the construction of a closet boldly walks back into my life making me ponder the question of whether to un-nail, unlock, or even open the door of their closet.

To date all closet doors that have been reopened have been shut again, though maybe no longer kept locked. I am now better equipped to allow contact without allowing love to seep back in taking control over my heart once more.

The mansion size dwelling that represents my heart built with the unconditional love of God, my family, and life long friends is currently empty of an “In Love” focus but, I still firmly believe in the concept of finding a rest-of-my-life love.

Maybe I should place an advertisement or rent a billboard like Realtors offering a property. “Spacious Loving Heart of the most Romantic Man on the planet ready for immediate possession to the right woman. Plenty of closet space available.”

JCH - February 2010

Peace

Darlene's Photograph

I frantically looked for a camera to take this picture of a new friend of mine. Finding none I quickly wrote out everything I saw, felt, heard, smelled, and tasted in that moment. What you are about to read is better than any picture I could have taken... Enjoy!



Darlene’s Photograph


A raven haired beauty camouflaged with warm golden hued tresses like a sunset on a clear October evening , Darlene sits on the hand carved stone entranceway that leads into a loving space that rejuvenates all who enter. Her posture relaxed leaning back against the cool stone, knees bent at a comfortable angle to fit her shapely frame onto the space provided.

The one piece sapphire blue and white flower sundress moves unrestricted with the curves of her near perfect body the way an ‘88 Mustang navigates a winding mountain road. Smooth flowing lines of mystery of what lies beneath. The blue highlights sparkling azure eyes resting under closed lids of an angelic face tilted toward the sun, the sun that warms her soul with its rays of life.

Surrounded by luscious green ivy, bouquets of flowers, and oak trees that sway slowly with the cool morning breeze Darlene is a part of God’s nature, not just a visitor. A three tiered fountain behind her casting peaceful sounds of tiny water bells adds to the enchantment of the picture forever etched in my mind.

A slight smile allows the soft murmur of contentment to escape her lips. She takes a deep breath marveling at the scents of lilac floating unseen on currents of air caressing her like satin sheets on a cool summer’s night.

Soft red painted toes are the cute end of honey colored tanned skin that radiates the spiritual glow from a heart filled with love. The high arches of her feet conform to the downward angle of the stone keeping her in place effortlessly. A fluted glass of Champagne held lightly by her left hand to refresh her palate, she waits patiently for the first meal of the day.

A brunch of fresh fruit, maple syrup covered Belgian waffles, and turkey links breaks the spell of her reprieve. As Darlene stands…the dress falls into place like a curtain at the end of a Ballet performance.


- May 2009 -

Peace be with you all,

Another dream, not of Ichade

Another dream, not of Ichade

It was time to say good-bye, for how long I did not know, I only knew that I really didn’t want to leave. Our time together had been too short, minutes actually, compared to the years that had passed since birth. Time is relative and it was against us this time.

She came into my arms hugging me firmly in a grip that expressed deeper meaning that I would have thought before my arrival. The hug lasted a long time, no words spoken, and none needed to be said. I did not want to go; she it appeared didn’t want me to leave.

The hug turned less fierce more into two entities that wanted to be held without judgment. My mind raced on how good it felt…it surprised me…I had not expected it though I must say in reflection how could it be otherwise.

Our torsos left each other then with our arms still hugging each others waist. Bending backwards without letting go just so we could look at each other face to face...like we both were waiting for something. We were both smiling; I could see the light of understanding dancing in her blue eyes. That’s when my mind wondered through a scenario of a “what if” that encompassed hours in that flash of a second.


I reached up to the back of her head running my left hand under her shoulder length hair gripping a handful in such a way that I was pulling her head back and to the side. Her mouth opened in surprise and just a brief flash of pleasure-pain of silent protest before I pressed my mouth against hers. Kissing her hard savoring the sweet nectar taste of her mouth.

I felt the briefest attempt of withdraw from her, but my hand full of hair kept her in place until the desire overcame her as well as she fell into me. The kiss lingered like the hug that still continued. Raw passion flowed like a rain swollen river in a much too narrow gorge. My right hand moved to her left hip pulling her against me so that she could feel what she was doing to me.

I broke the kiss off then pulling her head back to look into her eyes so the truth could be seen by both of us. I gave her a quick peck barely brushing her lips with mine, then a slow lick with the point of my tongue starting at the base of her lower lip and stopping on the upper never taking my eyes out contact with hers. I moved my left hand so that I was cupping the right side of her neck and jaw tenderly.

Her arms under mine bent at a ninety degree angle with her hands on my shoulder blades pulled me into another kiss, long and lingering educating me to her delicate side. It’s the part of a woman that she keeps hidden to most and was sharing it with me; I felt honored.

I did not want to leave but this was a good-bye and I didn’t have a choice. We ebbed back then, I could feel my legs shaking slightly, knees ready to give way, but I held fast and finished our farewell in a friendship hug. Hurry back she whispered softly into my soul. I turned a left without another look back.


As we looked at each other in that flash of a second I kept my arms where they were and leaned in kissing her on the cheek as she did the same. I breathed in the essence of her in that tender moment of our last hug for awhile. I turned then and left her, waving fare-thee-well as I left.

As I drove away in the dark I felt something different within me. My younger me would have taken the chance, would have stepped to the edge; but the more mature me, the one who is charge now did the right thing. The young me will probably blindside the mature me the next time just to get his way….

Or the alarm clock will save the day again…to keep me straight.

Peace

The Meal will have to do...

The Meal will have to do


My mind is currently elsewhere, thoughts are fixed on memories of my cousin and his passing. Of what that means to Heaven, Humanity, and Family. This is not the time for me to write a story of him, emotion is to raw right now. But rest assured it’s forming ever so slowly and making me smile as it comes instead of the moisture that now leaks from my eyes.

So tonight I created a meal in his honor and served it on a table set the way he would have done it. Nice linen, silverware, water goblets, wine glasses, two scented candles in the middle of the table casting a warm glow around the dinning room.

I dressed for the occasion, tan pants with matching socks, dark brown Hawaiian patterned shirt, and slippers. I was comfortable and looked nice. I put on my apron and started creating.

The appetizer consisted of oven warmed crusted bread with slits diagonally across the top to let the herbed butter have access. Lobster Bisque not from a can or pre-made for convenience. Fresh ingredients put together by hand brought together in a boil then covered to thicken.

Main entrée Sea Scallops lightly dusted with ground spices seared in a cast iron skillet with a breath of olive oil so the outside was crusted and the inside warm and moist.

The Sea Scallops were kept company by a whipped Sweet Potato topped with a mixture of butter, Ohio honey, and ground cinnamon along with steamed Brussel Sprouts tossed with herbed butter presented in a separate dish to avoid trapped moisture butter combination spreading across the plate.

I set the table for one, poured myself a glass of German Ice Wine, the water was already poured. I had four other chairs around the table, one for each of the male Hunkers that were alive when I was born, Jim, John, Don (Dad), and finally Bob. I am the last.

I made a short prayer to God for all the wonders I have witnessed and the joys I have felt. I raised my wine glass to the missing thanking them for staying with me in the past and paving the way to my future.

It was a fine evening meal and for right now it was the least I could do.

God Bless you all


Peace

A Smiling Nod

I was asked to write something about my cousin Bob who recently made the trip to heaven. “I don’t want something sad… you know make it funny(ish)…you are a better writer than me…than any of us really” my cousin Doris (Bob’s sister) said to me. “Ok, I can do that.” What is written below is what was be passed out to those who attend the “Celebration of Life” gathering for Bob Hunker.


Memories are the images and imprints of past happenings. When we are living the future memory, the event helps mold us into what we are the next day. Slowly over years we become who we are and what we believe. Bob has aided all of us in our quest for our true selves.

I remember lavish Christmas dinners at Bob’s house and his laughter coming from the head of the table.

I remember Bob walking into a room or a house taking it upon himself to “modify” the feel of the area to his standards. Not one of us was ever correct.

I remember Bob inviting as many people to a fresh fish fry lunch that he wanted no matter who was doing the actual fishing or cleaning of the fish.

I remember Bob serving cold soup at one of this many gatherings and the astonished me telling my father that “My soup is cold.”

I remember having cocktails on the porch at the farm with Bob and some of my friends discussing current world events only to look up at a perfect rear view of Bob’s tighty whiteys as he peed into the bushes.

I remember seeing Bob in his study sitting on a hard un-cushioned straight back wooden chair in front of a tiny antique desk with piles of near avalanche looking papers and thinking where is Norman Rockwell when you need him.

I remember the joy on Bob’s face as he told me that he had purchased the place cards for ten cents each at the dollar store while sipping spirits that cost fifty dollars a bottle.

I remember the adult face that mirrored the little girls’ mortified face of horror, when my sister found out that those were Frog Legs on her plate at one of Bob’s dinners.

I remember the majestic way Bob sat on his steed leading the way on the hunt, the happiness on his face with the thrill of it, and the willingness of all those who followed him.

We will always remember Bob with a smiling nod of one who liked to pave his own trail…and we can all learn from his example of how to live life!