Hi, My name is Micah Park Biffle, I am the author of ' A Man's Traveled Heart,' I am a Veteran who found his way back through writing. I consider myself an architect of the imagination. Here you will see my creations come to life. My short stories, poems, my thoughts, and a little touch of my life.
Voices gather throughout this home, as a fire is lit, and music plays softly as children dive rigorously into their imagination. Smells christen the air as they waltz across the sense of pleasurable memories that bring no burden.
The music delicately coats the home like the rising color of crimson along the morning horizon. All is certain in this moment as all have this day in common. No one is forgotten, no go hungry in this is this day that glistens.
Cheerful spirits lift this home from any friction and all become gladdened. The weather frosts the grounds but in here, among the fire, that plays with a hot hand of a chemical heathen. None are opposed or notice the cold. As they drink and laugh among the sweet scent of lemon.
The elders gather the children and begin to tell tales of the magical huntsman. The one that saves the princess from an evil legion. And finds himself against a thousand henchmen, many which are trained horsemen. And in the telling of the story, the children become enthralled in the heroic nature of the huntsman.
They dash off from the story and imagine themselves the huntsman upon a stallion. Riding bravely through the evil queens land to fight the evil henchmen. But like all children, in the creation of an illusion. They bicker about who gets to play the champion. Only to end with much commotion, they drift from the audition.
And in the wild but delightful collection of this beautifully contorted cohesion. A giant bird is given in sacrifice to be humbled in the giving of life. To be thankful for the compassion that lives in this home. To be thankful, though some may have found a downfall, but have hands to help bring back their fallen emotion.
This is but a moment for all that brings a bright eruption of infectious unification, that creates a momentary Utopian symbolization of family constellations. This is what will create the memories to be shared for a life time of conversation.
A Boy and A War
The train had just left the station, his thoughts creep with nostalgia as he watches is home fade into the horizon. His chest holds a nervous wreck, only seventeen and knows nothing beyond his home. He wears an old green t-shirt with red lettering that reads, The Red Menace is real.
His hair short, cut in the manner of a well respected boy. His eyes glitter with sadness as he has to leave everything behind. He knew this day would come but he wasn't ready, he had just graduated high school and was ready for adventure.
But now, he is well pressed into the chaos of the world. About to be armed in the fighting against a world enemy. For months he had heard the stories and updates of the war on the nightly radio. But it was all too surreal that he will now be part of such stories.
He can still hear the radio announcer speaking of the enemy bombarding the world as if to rid it of cancer. As the train moves further from his home he can still feel the tears of his mother…
To those that are depressed, I bring you these words and hope they fill the belly of your soul and nourish your heart,
Today, may be tougher than the former or maybe not. Maybe, today is like any other day, you struggling to remove yourself from your bed is but a wishful feat and nothing more. As you are coiled in the monotony of sadness that seeps from you like foul breath; from a desperate evening of melancholy. Maybe, the mere action to place a smile upon your face may feel like lifting the world from your chest.
I know these feelings well, I know them as well as I know the color of my eyes. I know when even a sunrise is no more joyful than a slaved day at work. When the world is pressing you into the unimaginable sinking of despair.
Where the air is thin but anxious thoughts a rabid. Where colors fade and all you see is grey and the whispers of death sound so sweet. Maybe you have fallen much further than I, where the act of infliction's don't jus…
A Beast Among the Flames
Lighting strikes the open plains setting the dry grass ablaze. Fires start to rise from the hill tops in the distance like signals. I can feel the heat from the flames that blaze only yards from me. The sweet scent of wet grass resonates against the smell of burning earth.
Smoke melds with the dark clouds above, forming a fondness for each other. I can feel my chest rising with heavy breaths as I prepare my mind. This is either the end or a start to another day. Kneeling on one knee I press myself up and stand.
I look around me as the world before me looks as if hell is bursting from earth. In the chaos I find serenity, for I am built for this, trained for this.
I finished my indulgence of my surroundings and pull my sword from the ground.
I raise it with my right hand pulling it near my chest. The point of my blade stands five inches above my head. I close my eyes and start to rhythmically pound the armor of my chest with my other hand.