The Greatest Respect - 1998 Yearbook Signature

Shadow to Dance - Carl Sandburg

Forgotten Character

I remember writing this poem back in high school or perhaps back even further. It references, ‘Claw’, a character from my first novel idea.

In psychology the loss of the hand in dreams is symbolic for the inability to change ones state of being, the feeling of helplessness, or the loss of hope. Having written a character with missing hands replaced by mettle claws was very telling of my mental state.

9^th May 1995

Claws

by  R.L. Neal

It’s like a cold prison in a world of light

Like a burning breath in a frozen night

All I want is to be free

From the faults in my personality

In a world of my design

Everything will have its time

And when attacked it seldom flaws

But reeks revenge with fiery claws

But when imbrased in friendship flight

Will laugh and dance throughout the night

?

A question I have for the two or three folks who read this blog comes up with the creation of this image.  I drew this to accompany the first post on this blog and have since updated said post to include this image. You can see the post here:

http://letterstocassiandotherfolks.blogspot.com/2011/04/letters-to-cassi-and-other-folks.html

So I need  ask:

Should I update old post with images or delete old post and post them anew when I add an image?

If I simply update the old post should I post an acknowledgement of the update?

Short Stories

It comes a time in my life that I have to look at things from another standpoint, and where as I have always wanted to be a novelist novel writing is hard, hit or miss, and time consuming.

So it came to me that so long as I was hammering away on the latest draft of a novel I should try to market the parts that fail to fit as short stories.

Short story writing is only lucrative if you write a great volume of publishable work. I think if your work is really something it may get further publication, but this is an area of publishing I have yet to explore.

If this piece sells I will make about one hundred and thirty dollars. Not enough to make it minimum wage.

27^th October 2011

Dear Editors at (Science Fiction Magazine),

I am an unpublished author in any paying market, but I did place a few poems in my High School publication back in the day.

My story is called ‘Live or Die’ and runs 2,427 words. It is science fiction in that it is set on an alien world and involves alien monsters.

You can probably guess that there is more from this universe and with this character, but I felt this to be a good point to start.

Thank you for your time

Richard Leland Neal

Images: a Poem

Richard Leland Neal as an idiot 16 year old

Having found this on an old floppy disk I can say that it took me back to a time in my life I hated. This is a poem I wrote back in July of 1995, high school, and the old place was a dump I wanted to stay in forever.

 In other words, these are the words of an idiot fifteen year old. I had to do some major editing because back then I was suffering from the worst depression of my life and couldn't write much. My damaged brain simply didn't have the energy to form words and so reading any of my work from that time is like looking through a fog. Well, find what meaning you will in this, I sure did. 

Images

 by Richard Leland Neal

a world of  beautiful images

a world I cannot enter

like a chorus of  life

I sit in an audience

 my peers in this cold computers

they have no soul, they have no god

no will no mind no reason

there glowing screens looking in to the world

but they stare expressionless at me

 I am one of them

I reach for an image from the cold of the crowds

 my hand is stopped

as if  by a wall that holds me back

and I strain to bridge the gap of empty solid air

as I push harder and harder

beads of sweat dot my brow

drops of  blood streak my hand

sweat flowing, blood running

stinging pain and yet I persist

muscles tens and shaking

my eyes monitor the slow progress

I finely bridge the gap and stop

the distance the trials and no reward

for I think is it worth it

to stain the image that was my goal

destroy it with my blood

and then in bold

no!

I am not worthy of their world

then a wall on either side

the two worlds of beauty and of cold resist me

but it is not even the sting

that the devils make that would drive to allow

the passage out of my frozen hell

the reason for this is so plain to me

the reason is this you see

no point, no plot,

 no common ground lies between either

In my world it seems I soar aloft and am looking down

but I'm like a worm in the ground

I am lower than low

I can't be found

Like a part of a broken puzzle

I have no match

I’m searching out a missing piece

that has ceased to exist

A Memory - William Allingham

Letters to Cassi and Other Folks

One of the most memorable conversations in my life is one I had with my friend Cassi. I believe it was in two thousand ten that I came about to ask her if the real paper letters I write her have any worth. She said that not only did they lift her spirits, but that she kept a few of them with her wherever she went to read when she felt down. That was a statement that made a lasting impact on me.

 From the time I was eight I had wanted to be a writer, and the last thing my mother gave me before her death had been a microphone so I could record my ideas on tape. The written word and I had a love-hate relationship back then and, well, we still do, but even in the darkest hours of my life some form of written art seep from my soul like blood from a wound. Here those words had finally had an impact on someone. More importantly, they had brought comfort to the pained, even if in a small way, and that was what stayed with me.

I’ve always like the feeling of helping people and that is what made me decide to start posting my letters on the internet. Will they ever truly help people? Probably not, unless you count the aforementioned Cassi, but as the letters abound I’ve nothing to lose...