Sheila Roy

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Excerpts and Poems

Igniting the Spark to Trigger It All:  One Memory Away, released by PublishAmerica in November 2005. Soft cover, 196 pages.

 

ISBN #:  1-4137-9223-5

Available at:  www.publishamerica.com, www.amazon.com, www.barnesandnoble.com, and other on-line booksellers.  You can also go to your local Barnes & Noble store and request it.

For a signed copy, please email me personally at sodium3456@yahoo.com with your request. Cost is $12.95 which includes shipping and handling.

EXCERPTS:

The killer:

It was a full moon and he was on the prowl. The woods he was standing in appeared to glow all around him. He'd been in the same spot now for over an hour. The humid air had long ago settled on him like a second skin. He was camouflaged within the wall of evergreens that grew there. Behind him, stood an army of pines toting their prickly weapons. Their cones had betrayed him on his way to this spot, crunching under his feet. The soles of his size eleven, black, work boots were slightly sticky with pitch.

On this street, there were only two houses. Tonight he was watching one in particular. Only one car had traveled the small, dirt road past his location. It was a Plymouth Neon that he knew belonged to Lucy Howe. He saw the tires kicking up dust as she sped to her destination. She pulled into the gravel driveway in front of a small, light yellow, cape-designed house with an even smaller garage. She parked just in front of the garage and quickly opened the door and emerged with a large, brown paper bag. He watched her shut the car door with her fanny and start for the house.

He was excited now. Let the game begin. He readied a pair of hand-sized binoculars and crouched down beside his bag of tricks. The woods he was in lay directly between her house and the little country road. He was only about 100 feet from her front door! He pressed down on his crotch and wiggled a little, trying to stifle the growing member in his pants. It was important for him to be thinking with the head on his shoulders right now. The other one, he knew, would have its turn.

He saw lights going on in the house. He peered into the binoculars to get a better look of the form he could see through the window. She was standing in her kitchen and unpacking the groceries she'd bought. He saw her unload tomatoes, cucumbers, lettuce, celery, peanut butter, and a vegetable drink. What is she, he thought, a fucking vegetarian or something? He had a carrot for her!

Mindy:

The events of the last couple of weeks left me feeling weakened and overwhelmed. Here was an opportunity to disregard everything. Forget, even for a short time, that I didn't know who I was or why my sister was dead.

I submitted to my body's needs with an urgency that I could tell startled Dale. My nails were digging into his shoulders while he explored my neck and skillfully removed my top. He flicked his tongue over a nipple which sent a current of arousal down my body and left me gasping.

The good doctor then pulled off the rest of my swim suit without ceasing his exploration. He took his time examining sensitive parts of my body with his tongue, hands and lips. Then he stood and freed himself from his restrictive trunks.

He covered me with his prone, firm body, pushing me further into the canvas lounge chair. I cupped his buttocks and rose up to meet him as he entered me for my first time. My body had been his before but I couldn't remember. It was discomforting to know that he knew me in this way before. What if I didn't measure up to the old me?

"Relax, Melinda," he whispered in my hair while pinning my arms back gently with one hand and getting frisky with the other. My body had its own natural response to his movements but I still felt unschooled. For the next hour, I yielded to the talented doctor's teachings.

 

Dancing With My Imagination, released by PublishAmerica in May 2006. Soft cover, containing about 140 poems written in the last year.

ISBN #: 1-4241-3708-X. 

Available at: www.publishamerica.com, www.barnesandnoble.com, www.amazon.com, and many other online sites where books are sold. You can also request it at your local Barnes & Noble dealer.

**For your signed copy, contact me at sodium3456@yahoo.com. Cost is $12.95 which includes shipping and handling.

 

POEMS FROM DANCING WITH MY IMAGINATION:

                                          Immortal Embrace IV by Sheila Roy

Author's note: This poem is 5th in my Immortal Embrace series featured in Dancing With My Imagination. Despite the fact that I've written dozens of poem series...this series remains my fave.

Tonight I wear my curly, auburn locks as a shield to hide my discontent.                          I'm the one who's damned, but the lives I've taken this eve were abhorrent.                      But here you are secure in bed, Sweet Mortal, angelic in your sleep.                                  I touch your delicate skin, I press my lips there and once more...I weep.

Through you I know peace, love, and understanding of your Mortal kind.                        Though you doth tell me nothing in words, I can read it from your mind.                          This night I glimpse farther into your being and bemoan what I see.                                 I encounter something new and foreign; something that shouldn't be.

Do you not see? I am tattered with dilemma; ripped apart by indecision.                          For the Cancer I see blooming in your human body...cursed all-seeing vision!                  An ugly cluster developing, growing larger with each passing day.                                    I have the power to rid you of this affliction...I can take the pain away.

I could make you the creature I am...and the sickness would be yours no more.                Oh...but how can I knowingly curse you when I know what you would endure?                For I cannot impose my will on you, when I realize you'd suffer like me.                           Imprisoned inside an animated corpse...surviving for all of eternity.

So see my predicament, Dear Mortal, I let the choice be yours to make.                            Decide wisely; look inside your soul for answers...don't say YES for my sake.                   If you agree, we could be Immortal together...perhaps loneliness we'd rein.                      If NO is your response, Sweet Mortal O' Mine, there is no need to explain.

 

                                        The Leaky Reef III by Sheila Roy

Author's note: This series is written from a female Great White shark's perspective.

My Tiger shark friend was back after several days of refraining                                               He'd been hooked on Fish Frappes and his need was finally waning                                        He was in the mood to trouble-make and he wanted me to participate                                    We left the Leaky Reef, each with our own cup of Chumster's Bait

That's a drink I invented after being attracted by chum too much                                             It's a human concoction...meant to get us close enough to touch                                              It's really just a tease for us sharks...and now it's a tasty drink                                                 It's the most popular beverage around...served chilled, thick and pink

The Tiger and I swam about thirty yards from the ocean's shore                                              We lingered under a boat...the occupants oblivious to what was in store                                  Just as an arm stretched out to start chumming the water...                                                      We jumped out of the depths showing teeth and watched the human totter

He fell back in shock and then screams came from his vocal chords                                        But we were under the boat laughing and couldn't hear his words                                            Next we swam closer to land and surrounded a wooden dock                                                We got underneath and bumped it continuously...causing it to rock

The shouts of fear from above were more than we could hope for                                           We swam away smiling so wide...my great, white jaw was sore                                              We set out for a new destination...still feeling quite silly                                                            We stopped at the Leaky Reef...for a drink served pink, thick and chilly

 

                                   New Hampshire Heroine by Sheila Roy

 Dedication: To the memory of Hannah Dustin (Duston). March 15, 1697 ~ Hannah, her week-old baby, and her nurse were abducted by Indians from their home in Haverhill, MA. Amongst the Indians was 17 year old Samuel Leonardson. (There are also multiple spellings of his last name.) On March 31rst the group stopped on what is now known as Duston Island nearby Penacook, NH. That night is marked in history and Hannah was dubbed a heroine. Two statues were erected in her honor, one stands where her home used to be. My meme, Annette Dustin, was a direct descendant.

Torn from the comfort and safety of my home                                                                    My husband and eldest children had, thankfully, escaped                                                   Leaving a crushing weight unburdening my shoulders                                                        The Indians who have imprisoned me push hard                                                                 It has been a long, exhausting day of travel                                                                        As my nurse and another captive attempt to keep pace                                                      I clutch my baby close to my heart soothingly                                                                     I tire easily when my babe suckles at my breast

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I've befriended an English speaking, Indian captive                                                           He has spoken many truths that I must think upon                                                             We are soon to be subjected to the fierce gauntlet                                                              Each Indian warrior, wife or child will take their turn                                                        Bludgeoning my nurse and I, and perhaps...defiling us                                                       I fear their intentions...I fear their ruthlessness                                                                   I fear there is no chance for us to survive this

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I fall back in line during the next light of day                                                                      The tribe treks forward following the river's call                                                                Its wet and wild finger pointing farther from my home                                                       A warrior takes notice of how my pace has slackened                                                        He holds satisfaction in blaming the babe I carry                                                               I am helpless as he seizes the bundle from my arms                                                            Loosing the tiny, crying babe from its blanket                                                                    Cruelly, while the world stops spinning before my eyes;                                                     He dashes my innocent newborn against a tree                                                                   Casting my babe to Heaven before its time

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I cannot stress the pain that encompasses me                                                                     Rage commands my mind; my heart ceases to beat                                                            The loins that birthed my child ache with loss                                                                     I hover over my still form watching myself surrender                                                         I submit to the all-consuming domination of my grief                                                         Feeble-minded and void of the opportunity to retaliate                                                      I endure my anguish, letting it build inside of me                                                                Suffering my body's movements as I'm forced to continue                                                  But my every step torments me into thoughts of revenge                                                    Vile ideas that would otherwise never called my mind home

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At nightfall, I push aside my numbness and rise                                                                  The brutal tribe sleeps, frolicking in their dream world                                                      I hasten to wake my nurse and the male captive from slumber                                          Freeing ourselves, we gain access to their tools of death                                                   Finally my hate is unleashed and permitted to run its course                                             We send all but three souls to their graves victoriously                                                      A woman escapes with excessive wounds...into the night                                                   A young boy lives to see my vengeance unmasked                                                              An Indian infant; nestled in its animal skins...                                                                     I raise my hatchet only to let it fall un-bloodied                                                                  With an ironic mercy that was not gifted to my child

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I gaze around me in the dark, feeling justified over our deeds                                            The three of us flee into the black night seeking the river                                                   We liberate all canoes save one which we commandeer                                                     But I realize no one will believe I have avenged my babe                                                   The cold monster grows in me once more, choking my breath                                           I demand my companions wait in the boat for my return                                                   With a renewal of my gaping, spiritual affliction surging...                                                I collect the scalps of our ten foes with one of their own hatchets

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I rejoin my accomplices and we ride adrift on the river                                                      We let nature rush us away from our horrid ordeal...from my sorrow                                I smile...scalps in hand, wrapping them in a cloth                                                               I angle my visage upward to spy on Heaven                                                                       Beseeching God's forgiveness and my babe's patience                                                        Some day I will join them...today is not that day

 

                                       SOUTHERN BELLE by Sheila Roy

Author's note: Written for Margaret Mitchell's character, Scarlett O' Hara, from Gone With The Wind. One of the best character novels ever written...in my opinion. This was written about Scarlett's playful side.

My cleavage deep...my bosoms half showin'                                                                           Appropriately dressed for where I am goin'                                                                            My gown silver...I am elegantly tressed                                                                                  All the men are immeasurably impressed

Poisonous lips...if you partake                                                                                                An impassioned kiss...your mistake                                                                                        Caught in my web...sticky situation                                                                                         I DESERVE YOUR ADULATION

Saucy temptress...my eyes ablaze                                                                                           Dangerous to get caught-up in my gaze                                                                                   Look away...don't meet my stare                                                                                            I'll steal your love and won't at all care

Curvaceous beauty...you can't deny                                                                                        From your chest...your heart I'll pry                                                                                        Squishing it...no hesitation                                                                                                       I DESERVE YOUR ADULATION

 

                                     Simmering up Some Lovin' by Sheila Roy

two alone, no witness                                                                                                             sweatin' bodies, slippery surface                                                                                             dark undercover                                                                                                                    kissing your lover                                                                                                                   mussed hair, pursed lips                                                                                                         feeling good to your fingertips                                                                                                 moist skin, curled toes                                                                                                            deep in rapture, deep in the throes                                                                                          Deep in...                                                                                                                               to the feeling, to your lover's eyes                                                                                           seeing with hands, on hearing rely                                                                                           everything is just so right                                                                                                         simmering up some lovin' tonight 

 

***You can check out more poems featured in Dancing With My Imagination at www.freewebs.com/sheilaroy/ ***