Brandon Ellrich, Writer/Author/Poet

Fighting

I was called away to fight and I never,
Had second thoughts to endeavor,

To engage an enemy that attempted,
To come against us with contempt.

I returned to my country only to find,
That citizens within were turning blind,

Fighting each other without even knowing,
The goal they were reaching or where they were going.

Is this what I fought for, risking my life,
To make things better for my child and my wife?

Is this the future our founders believed,
That their dreams would one day achieve?

I continue to fight day after day,
Sometimes at home and sometimes away.

I have to believe that minds will be changed,
And government will no longer be twisted, deranged;

To believe that one day we'll come together to fight,
Not one another, but in a quest for what’s right.


Copyright © 2020 Brandon Ellrich

In dedication on this Veteran’s Day to all those who fight for their country and for the freedoms that are afforded us.

To Follow or Not to Follow…

If someone presented you with a gift, would you say anything? Of course you would. You would say phrases like “Thank you” or “You shouldn’t have” or “I love it!”

Writers give the gifts of their words, their stories, poems, expressions of thoughts and emotions. I’m always grateful when someone shows their appreciation for my work–whether it be by voice in a personal message, posting a comment, reblogging, leaving a review of my book, or simply clicking the “like” button. They are simple acts, but they are significant to the recipient.

I, personally, don’t use the “like” button arbitrarily. If I “like” your post, it is genuine. If I follow you, then I have found content you have written to be entertaining or beneficial in some way. There have been times when someone has followed me and then said, “I would appreciate a follow-back.” I have not been blogging for very long, so what is the etiquette here? Do you follow someone simply because they follow you, even if you don’t necessarily like the content of their posts? During holidays, you might receive a gift from someone that you weren’t expecting. Do you then feel obligated to go out and buy a gift in return?

Does anyone remember Christmas cards? I have heard people say “[So-and-so] sent me a card. I guess I’ll have to send them one now.” The recipient may never know the intention, genuineness, or lack thereof, so what’s the harm, right? If you are the receiver, would you still want the gift, knowing that it was given begrudgingly?

I realize I am posing a lot of questions and I don’t expect answers to all of them, but I would like to hear your opinions.

I genuinely thank you for reading and/or following me! 😁

Halloween

Leaves are rattling, ruffling, rustling,
Beware! Beware!

Hands are thwacking, thumping, thudding,
Who’s there? Who’s there?

Footsteps scampering, scurrying, scuttling,
More tricks! More tricks!

Night winds whistling, whipping, whispering,
Who’s next? Who’s next?

Teeth are chawing, chomping, crunching,
More treats! More treats!

Spirits are moping, moaning, mourning,
To sleep, to sleep.

Graves are quelling, quieting... until next year


Copyright © 2020 Brandon Ellrich

If you liked this poem, you might also like my short story Dia de los Muertos

Dia de los Muertos

Born from the earth in el huerto de calabazas, Cucurbita awaits the choosing–la seleccion. She will soon be ready for the children. They will see her and fear her, as they should.

“That one,” the dark-haired doctor says, pointing at Cucurbita. “That one will be perfect.”

She is not perfect yet. She knows this to be true. Her identity must be changed in order for the plan to become fully realized. Dr. Ramirez takes her to his private garage. It is poorly-lit, dingy, dirty, and there are black oil stains on the concrete floor. It is a deplorable atmosphere for the surgery that will be performed tonight.

The doctor prepares the table and lays out his instruments. Cucurbita sits on the table, knowing this is the last time she will appear as she does. Her beautiful face will be permanently transposed forever. There will be scars that will never heal, but she knows it is necessary and she is ready. After the doctor has prepared her, he carefully uses the knife to make the alterations to her face.

After the transformation is complete, she is forever changed–not only in appearance, but on the inside as well. There is no light inside of her; she is empty, cold, evil. She has no remorse for what she will do to the children.

“Yes, you’ll do nicely,” Dr. Ramirez says with a malicious grin. “Make them afraid.”

He lights a fire in her, motivates her to strike fear in whomever may look upon her, whomever may dare to tread upon this threshold.

She waits in the darkness and hears them approaching. Los niños y las niñas. These will be the first of her victims. She sees that it is the princess and her followers.

Perfect.

“Eeee…!” the little girl shrieks.

“It’s okay, mijita,” her mother assures her. “It’s only a calabaza. See? A pumpkin.”

The little girl still keeps a tight hold of her mother’s hand.

Cucurbita’s eyes flicker as the candle’s flame is licked by the night’s breeze. The princess, a skeleton, and a superhero approach Dr. Ramirez’s door, but the princess keeps a watchful eye on Cucurbita.

Yes, princess. Be very careful…

If you liked this short story, you might also like one of my other stories like Taken or my poem Halloween

My First Poll Block

100 Followers

Photo by Sharon McCutcheon on Pexels.com

I wrote my first blog post on July 8th of this year, and I now have more than 100 followers! I don’t know how this growth rate compares with other bloggers, but I am happy with this accomplishment. I try to avoid comparing myself to everyone else, mainly because I am NOT everyone else. I appreciate all of you who have read, commented, and/or “liked” my posts.

I haven’t been blogging for very long, but I’d like provide content that people want to read. So, I’ve been alternating between poems, short stories and commentaries/articles on various topics.

Thank you for all of your continued support!

Brandon Ellrich

Food For Thought

“You are what you eat, you know,” you may have heard it said;
So what form of nutrition, is better to be fed?

Eat some sweets to help you have, a pleasant countenance;
A slice of homemade humble pie, to curb your arrogance.

Take any hurtful comments, with a grain of salt;
To err is only human; do not lay blame or fault.

Keep your ear out of the grapevine, spreading things that you don’t know;
It keeps your foot out of your mouth, and you from eating crow.

Don't upset the apple cart, giving people fits,
You may have to eat your words, and end up in the pits.

To keep from going nuts, or bananas on bad days,
Look on the sunny side, use lemons for lemonade.

Never drink the wine, made from the grapes of wrath;
Instead swallow your pride; stay on the narrow path.

Eat the spiritual fruits, of joy and peace and love,
And the fruits of all your labor, will bring blessings from above.


Copyright © 2020 Brandon Ellrich

Plate of fruit — Photo by Lisa Fotios on Pexels.com

Victim

Beautiful art, without a signature, Spider,
Be proud of your work. Why do you hide there?

Ashamed of your creation, the role you’re born to play?
Do you mourn for the victims of the lies you convey?

Knowing that you’ll trap them empirically,
Feeding on their flesh, vampirically,
Just like you did with me.


Copyright © 2020 Brandon Ellrich

*If you enjoyed this poem, you might also like my short story Killer.

Storm

Thunder rolled in the distance. He could feel it, though nothing had happened yet. There was always a warning, though sometimes it went unnoticed. Bryce heard the front door slam when his father came home. He knew the type of slam it was–he had heard it many nights before. That’s when he retreated to his room and put in his earbuds. He hoped he hadn’t forgotten anything. Did he take out the trash? Yes, he was sure of it. Feed the dog? Pretty sure. He didn’t leave his LEGO bricks on the floor, did he? Oh, no. That might be it. That might be what gets him. He should just throw away the stupid LEGOS. It would be better than getting beaten again.

He took out his earbuds and could hear his father clanking around in the kitchen. There might be time. He could race into the living room, grab the LEGOS and be back in his room before his father noticed. He quietly opened his bedroom door and made it quickly down the hall to the living room. He swiftly and silently gathered as many LEGOS as his little hands could hold and turned to head back to his room. As soon as he turned around, he saw the shoes first, and then looked up at his father, who was glowering down at him.

Then the lightning struck.

October is Domestic Violence Awareness Month. If you see evidence of domestic violence or if you are the victim of such abuse, please summon the courage to speak up.

Bullied

The sounds of the crowds around me, drowning

My thoughts. I ought not to be fraught with

Jealousy, indelibly. To hell with me;

To hell with them. Endlessly rendering

Judgment and grudges, uttering loveless

Orgies of words. Gorging on stories that are more or less

Lies that are cited as wise. Their eyes always dry

For they never endeavor

To see clearer, to look in a mirror.

It uncovers the ugliness deep under

Their makeup. Won’t wake up to face up to

The truth.

Shutting out the loud mouths of the crowd with a

Bullet and gun,

And I’ll be the one to pull it; I’m done.

Excerpt from Like A Mousetrap Book 2: A Glimpse into a Family About to Snap