A Quatern is a sixteen line French form composed of four quatrains. It is similar to the Kyrielle and the Retourne. It has a refrain that is in a different place in each quatrain. The first line of stanza one is the second line of stanza two, third line of stanza three, and fourth line of stanza four.
Manhood belongs not to the meek. All honor is won at a cost. A reticent life unworthy. All you value easily lost.
I was once unsure just like you. Manhood belongs not to the meek. So, stand tall when facing this world. Cowards never find what they seek.
My hands are broken, my back is bent, And my job is most nearly done. Manhood belongs not to the meek. Time to fight your battles, my son.
Those gentle eyes and chiseled chin, Are signs that you’ll reach your own peak. Kind men guard the common ‘good’, ‘Cuz, Manhood belongs not to the meek.
Our challenge is to write a story by interpreting the photo below in only six minutes.
Pablo was tired of his grandfather’s constant reminder to look at something called “The Big Picture”. He was always so DARN positive! It was foolish and old fashioned and, frankly, meant nothing to him. Pablo had worries galore. “Where would he get a new plow?” “When would his son be old enough to help with chores?” “Why didn’t the weather cooperate with his farming timeline?” One day, news of his neighbor’s son being killed in a freak accident brought him to his knees. Pablo was devastated for his neighbor and, of course, offered him his assistance with his farm in addition to his own duties. He sat overwhelmed with his workload and placed his face in his hands. Suddenly, his 5-year-old son grabbed him around the neck and kissed him on the cheek offering comfort to his distraught Dad.
And that’s when Pablo knew, for the first time, what his grandfather had always meant.
room, cloud, any, fist, raven, rock, slide, speak, west, story, blend, circle
My story came full circle when I walked into that room.
When I was a kid, I believed animals could talk. I didn’t give it any thought that it may not be true until I lost my innocent intuition as an adult. It seemed I took a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree slide into radical realism. Then, I became a father. When my four-year-old son started insisting that birds could speak, I slammed my fist onto my desk, startling both of us. He ran off crying and I rationalized the incident as ‘good for him’ so he would recognize truth from fiction as soon as possible in such an unforgiving world. There was no blend of parental guidance and support for my child’s imagination that day. I was the boss! He opted out of having me rock him to sleep that night and there was perceivable distance between us that I’d never before felt. A cloud of regret suddenly surrounded me. My dad had been a Wild West, no nonsense guy, and I recognized immediately from my own past, the betrayal my son was feeling when I hadn’t listened to him. Now, I walked into his room this morning, hoping desperately to mend our trust, and there on his open windowsill sat a large raven-like black and white bird. “Daddy! This is my friend.” I knelt beside my boy and said, “He’s beautiful Billy. Does he talk to you?” Before Billy could answer, the bird (who turned out to be a pet magpie that was on the loose) said, “What’s up dummy?”.
Yep. I’ll be ‘eating crow’, for not believing in Billy, for years!
“It called compassion son… it is caring about the misfortune of others.”
“I felt really bad when Tanner’s dog died and I cried too. Is that compassion?”
“Exactly son. Compassion is a feeling. And what you do with that feeling is called character. Not everyone has good character, nor do they use their feelings in a ‘good’ way. They think the feeling itself is a virtue but the virtuous person is the one whose actions are just and consistent. When you’re truly compassionate, you do not withhold your kindness from people you don’t like. How about Benny? He’s picked on you and even stolen from you, would you feel bad if his dog died?”
[Long pause] “Well, yeah. It would be just as sad for him. I don’t think he’d let me help to bury him, though, like Tanner did. “
“Well that would be up to him. But offering to help would be the virtuous thing to do whether he accepted or not.”
“I saw a protest on TV last week, Dad. Some people were walking and waving signs THEN others started burning buildings and cars and beating up each other! I felt compassion for those peaceful people, and the people losing their businesses, but I didn’t feel compassion for the others. I didn’t like them! Am I bad for feeling that way?”
“Not at all. I was angry too. There’s a difference between people who “feel wronged” and those who “do wrong”. Doing wrong is not how people, of good character, express themselves. Some people use something good, like a protest, for an excused opportunity to do wrong. They’re ‘bad guys’. You are never expected to condone what bad guys do. Yet, a compassionate person doesn’t want evil things to happen to them. Even when people ‘ask for trouble’ we don’t wish them ill. BUT, it is virtuous to protect the ‘peaceful’ from the ‘bad guys’ any way we can. Allowing people’s homes, and businesses to be destroyed or allowing ‘bad guys’ to harm or kill others, is unconscionable. “
“Is another word for unconscionable, immoral? “
“Yep and men of character should help.”
” What if the bad guys try to hurt me while I’m helping out the others?”
“Then you have the right to defend yourself. It’s part of the law. It’s written in our Constitution. We all have a God given right to life, liberty, and property.”
“I don’t want to hurt people Dad!”
“I know son. It isn’t something anyone with good character wants to do. But ‘bad guys’ don’t often care about who they hurt. A man has to decide who they are if he’s threatened. Your life is precious and must be defended when you’ve exhausted every chance to reason with them or get away. If you end up hurting an attacker, it’ll be hard to live with but it is just. In a perfect world, this would never happen… but guess what?”
“It’s not a perfect world, Dad, and bad guys will always be a part of things.”
“I love you son. Be a ‘good guy’, always. Our world, our country, and our family counts on them.”
“I think I’ll be a policeman one day. Protecting people is a great way to show compassion AND to be a ‘good guy’.
Since so many other online writers have blogs dedicated to their writings, I’ve decided to jump onto the bandwagon. All posts published here will be either fiction or poetry, some new, and some previously published on various places on the Internet. Some of my works are conventional, and some are quirky. All fiction posted here, except for fan fiction, will include the letters "rose" somewhere, as a tribute to my Baba.
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