Lonnie D. Story

Lonnie D. Story
The Author in his writer’s nest
Lonnie joined the Army at age 17 and entered 3 years service Active Duty June 1981. He exited the Army with an Honorable Discharge and eventually completed reserve status in June 1988 with the rank of Sgt./E-5.

He worked an overall 14 years as a paralegal performing both management, legal research and writing, investigations and all manner of other attachments to the profession. In February 2003, Lonnie set out on his own as an independent, freelance writer, and is presently working on another biography on a WWII Navy veteran and three fiction books.


Spring has come and the wind whistles,
it breezes through the wire-mesh screen at the windows.
There are sounds of birds whistling each morning,
I hear them early as I waver in sleep and dreams,
the siren songs that keep me from screaming, crying,
howling for a hope, a chance to live again.

My days are flowing like my thoughts,
they pass by my mind in numbers too hard,
they challenge my strength and energy and I,
I cannot, with all my energy at breast,
grasp this unwilling tide.

A thousand years have passed, it seems,
since, as a child I dreamed,
my feet in the undertow of tides on the beach.
I stared to the horizon and watched the shrimping boats,
the sailors on the sea,
All the salt that watered around me,
filled my fantasies.

Somewhere, along the line of life,
the days called time,
my destiny unveiled itself and the journey
it was not mine nor kind.
I fell to a lot in life,
a place I never thought to be
a place that is more the liking of hell and such,
a place, most certainly, not me.

Now as rhyme is more the time,
and reason cast away from season,
this me, I am, is no longer worth searching,
no longer able
no longer capable
no longer a candidate
for the thing they call, gladly as, freedom.

So, I will do as what I know,
best for all to be,
time to take a task to hand,
and set my spirit free.

I will do a thing such dare and dear,
the dread of many, fear,
I will take the last step alone
and end my nightmare, right here.

The blackness has taken toll,
and with it I will go, gladly knowing all of me,
the me that no one knows.
I had my days of light and shine,
my days of sun and gladness,
few though they may be,
It is the me I see that tarries long
the line that says my time has been
far too extended and far to over-climbed.

The blackness that I speak of,
it isn’t what is to be,
the blackness that I speak of,
it is the blackness that once was me.