Scarlet Robe Creations

SHEPHERD WITH A FLOCK OF SHEEP -  Charles Jacque    (1813–1894) In that time alone when my heart wishes for another voice, when I seek the desolate country-side, looking for my shepherd, will I be close,  or far. Sometimes I feel the touch, but I long for the embrace. Is it I who refuse to wrap my arms around my heart's deepest desire? In that time alone when my heart wishes to be carried, when I seek sand and find only stone, my struggling faith designing my house, to crumble. You are with me, rod and staff, even when I cling to the world. You are with me, leading to green pastures, when I have cast my soul upon the pavement. copyright 2023 - Donald P James Jr https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author

There is a trail. It's leads me where I long to travel. Somewhere beyond today and into tomorrow. I've walked this same trail thousands of times. I have stepped over boulders and trunks of trees fallen. I have heard the song of a bird, familiar and yet strange. I have watched the flight of wings as the song took to the sky. I have found a rock along that trail, one where I can rest, one where I can think of the places I have been, one where I can consider the places I will go. copyright 2023 - Donald P James Jr https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author

“Did you see that dude down the street, shouting about the end?” It was a question asked by one of my classmates as we met in front of the movie theater.   I had come from a different direction, so I hadn’t seen or heard. “Must think he’s a prophet or somethin’,” another in our group added. “Did you see him, Jacob?” A third in our group asked me directly. “I didn’t come from Main,” I answered. “Oh, then you missed it.   The guy’s a real loon.   He’s got a long beard and unruly hair,” the first speaker said.   His name was Nathan.   Much in life was a joke to Him. “And his clothing is like some sort of burlap sack,” one of the others said. Nathan would speak, and the others would chime in.   I usually remained silent, which wasn’t much of a virtue on my part.   Normally, I find, silence translates to agreement. “You think at least he’d be askin’ for money,” Nathan continued. “Makes the whole effort of standin’ out there in the sun, lookin’ like some rejected hippy, have

Soon to be released. The edits are complete. Now I need to register the work for copyright. 'Afternoons with Mister D', started as a couple short stories involving the same characters back in 2020. It morphed into a collection of stories built around these characters and others, which I finished in early 2022. I have been considering two options for publication, reaching out to tradition publishers or just using my own imprint (ScarletRobeCreations) and printing the book through Amazon, as I have done in the past. Today, I am leaning toward the second option. As my editor said, "I was sad the story ended, again". In 2017 I published a book titled ‘The Sermon – Reflections on the Gospel of Matthew 5-7’ .  The publication is a collection of poems and short stories.  During the writing of ‘The Sermon’ and a previous work titled ‘An Advent Journey’ , published 2016, I found that I enjoyed writing short stories as an alternative to poetry.  One story in ‘The Sermon’

  Nicolas Poussin - Christ et la femme adultère I raise my fist into the air, grasping a chunk of stone tightly within my grip. Adulteress, this woman has been caught in the very act, with a man not her husband.   The teacher looks at her as she cowers helplessly at the wall. The law states that a woman such as this should be put to death. You do not place yourself above Moses.   He tells us that if we are without sin, we may cast a stone. I consider releasing the rock. I wave it above my head. My small sins do not compare to hers.   To my left a stone falls to the ground. Another of my companions gives up the trap. The teacher has called our bluff and one by one we leave to go about our piously sinful lives. copyright 2017 - Donald P James Jr https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author From the collection;  Pictures of the Messiah

The pavement glistens, from a torrent awaited. We run back into buildings that shelter and continue our day a little less dry. When it pours, do you consider the Arc, or is that just a fairy tale in your heart. It is easier to listen if we think the words are for children. We can even smile when a child asks where are the unicorns. Do you close your eyes, if someone says, "This is God's warning to the people of that day." If so, how will He warn us today, with a virus that causes leaders to panic, with dark skies and horrible storms, with wars which will have no victor. If so, how will He warn us today, with churches that pay homage to self and not others, denominations which support the rule of their laws and not His, leaders who say holiness is the work of evil and we should openly accept sin. It rains today, but He promised to never wipe us clean with torrents of water. This time He has wiped us clean with blood and still, we do not heed the warning. copyright 2023 - D

Charles T, as everyone at the shelter called him, sat on the small patch of grass across the street from the First Congregational church.  Behind him loomed an attorney’s office, closed as it was on every Sunday.  From his pocket he removed a tiny book, a small green covered Gideons Bible containing the New Testament, Psalms and Proverbs.  The handout had been given by a local church at a soup kitchen where he spent the previous Easter.   A bell in the church tower rang out, telling the world that prayer was to begin.   Ten o’clock, Charles T thumbed through his favored possession and stopped at John’s gospel, chapter 1, verse 35.   Inside the church the congregation would be singing.   He wondered which hymn they would start with this morning.   He thought it interesting how different denominations might sing the same songs with slightly different lyrics.   He hummed ‘Amazing Grace’ to himself, since it was his favorite.   “Charles T,” a familiar voice said.   Harold Harpe