Author Archives: Monty Vern

Personal blogger, author & illustrator, and overall fallible human being.

New Years Morning

The celebrations have quieted,
The night sky of thunderous glitter
Now settled upon the ground,
As if tired from partying all night,
Laying in heaps wherever the winds decided,
Caught by the spotlight of the morning sun,
Charred memories of well-wishes –
Hopes and dreams for the new year
By those now under the covers,
Sleeping it off.

Be well,

Monty

Dancing in the Sunlight

I watch from upon my swiveling perch,
Praying I never tire of the beauty below;
The cold waters boil in the wind,
Creating a diamond encrusted
Surface dancing in the sunlight;
Fractured reflections of the sky,
Slithering through the grounds,
Adding bling to this new year eve’s day,
And harboring in the Year of the Snake.

Be well,

Monty

The Morning’s Witness

The wind swept across the sea’s surface,
Blue shades rippling into greys,
Forming shadows of mystery,
I imagined huge creatures swimming beneath the surface,
Then suddenly diving deep,
Disappearing as the wind lost its grip.

Above this scene, a pink rose blossomed into oranges as the sun gently rose toward the slightest sliver of a moon. As the sky brightened and the winds calmed, the moon disappeared along with the creatures and their shadows. The early morning show nearing its end.

The sun now fully lit, the sea surface a mirror reflecting its rays, warming me in my seat by the window, feeling blessed by all that I’ve witnessed.

Be well,

Monty

Set Me Free

Set me free, set me free, Lord, please set me free!
Cut me loose from the chains of past sins,
Open my heart, be the wind beneath my wings,
I lay myself before you, Lord, to set me free.

I may fall down and fail, but your love never falters,
And when I wonder away, You come seeking me.
Your love, your love, oh, Lord, your love sets me free!

My heart flutters, my eyes open wide,
Knowing you’re on my side, I leave behind the lies,
For you, Lord, have set me free.

Be well,

Monty

The Winter Rose

I watched the rose petals fall one by one as the cold wind stripped them of their mooring and left behind only a shadow of her previous glory. But I am not saddened by this sight. For her beauty was enhanced by her boldness to blossom against the mid-winter chill. A reminder to all of us that we also may bloom this day. That even during the cold of winter we can embrace the blessings that life has to offer. That through hardship we can flourish and bring forth beauty to all of those around us. What a gift is the winter rose.

Be well,

Monty

Our Father

Bent over from the weight of the years,
Not the seventy-seven already lived,
But the twenty or so left to survive,
The balance sheet of life upside down,
Sinking deeper each month, each day,
Is this how we are supposed to spend our final years?
With banks waiting impatiently for death’s release?
As a once proud man brought to his knees?

But perhaps getting on our knees is what is called for?
It’s time to rest your worries upon His yoke,
To be carried for a while,
To be guided by His light.
Together, let us pray.
For His love abides in us,
And our love abides in you.

Be well,

Monty

Here and Now

A chill awakens my nerves,
The warmth of a deep slumber ebbs,
I’m readying to take on the day,
To write myself into presence,
To draw a point on the page,
A celebration of the here and now,
With infinite degrees of freedom,
Lines yet to be drawn,
Full of potential, waiting to be explored,
But I’m in no hurry,
I’m fine right here,
I’m fine right here.

Be well,

Monty

Words for the New Year

Words crept up,
Like a nose itching to sneeze,
Hiding just below the surface,
Hinting at images, yet still blurred.
Seeking to be set free?
Or to nuzzle back under the blankets,
Like a dog, nose tucked to tail,
Wondering what all the commotion is about,
As the calendar’s last page is turned?

Filaments of half-baked ideas
Tickling my amygdala,
Whispering somethings in my ear,
Muddled murmurs, too soft to discern.
Wisps of wisdom?
Or nonsense best ignored,
Nothings role-playing as something,
With a false sense of importance,
Because someone once said today is a new beginning?

Words eked out, squeezed through a press,
Moldable shades of grey,
Worked like clay from ambiguous thoughts
Into formless sculptures,
Unsure yet said,
Written to mark the moment,
A stake in the ground,
Striking the earth to discover,
What this new year has to offer.

Be well,

Monty

Monty’s Very Short Shorts – #Jungle

#Jungle

Lance Bumbleworth @Threads

Typhoon (#Jungle)

Typhoon winds and rains batter against our windows. The wind whistles and bangs through every crevice it can find. The chandelier detects the building’s shimmers and chimes to its off-tune rhythm. How is a mere man supposed to think in this racket, let alone write about fantastical geographies afar? Better to ask of the God’s that created the mountains and seas, the jungles and deserts, the wooded lands. For I’m at a loss for words waiting for the eye of the storm.

If you enjoy these very short stories, you can also check out one of my earliest books – MONTY’S VERY SHORT SHORTS which includes 366 illustrated pieces (one for each day in my life of 2020).

Monty’s Very Short Shorts

Be well,

Monty