Articles written by Farrell Walker

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About me - Farrell Walker

A good description of me would be diverse. I am the director of sales for a fiberglass arbor manufacturing co., an artist, I love golf, paintball, music education major with voice principle and I travel most places on a BMW K1200LT motorcycle.

I believe God

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Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: On love: 72 of 1171

Sorrow fills my hardened spirit, Loneliness has seen my fate. Desperate passion churns within. Caution marks the slate. Pounding heart from fear I pause, nothing moves but her. World of motion fleeting moments once important now a blur. Stubborn grasping lunges inward hoping to contain, now my heart is falling reckless only ...
Politics, News & Issues > Sports News & Opinion (Other) Why is paintball so popular?: 1 of 10

Many years ago a company called Nelson produced a tree "Marker" that would allow forestry workers to tag trees without leaving their vehicles. It didn't take long for gamesmanship to take hold as the first markers were issued. With a simple challenge of, "I can shoot (mark) you before you can shoot (mark) me!" Paintball was ...
Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Rock-bottom: 4 of 25

It's not so far away that place we all deny. Lofty dreams are meant to thwart it We can only hope to fly. It's the sudden stop that we ponder. Not the state we are in. Should we seek the rocky bottom And practice to begin again?
Creative Writing > Short Stories Short stories: Science fiction: 82 of 270

I am writing this under less than comfortable conditions. Reporting fellow members of the crew is less than desirable even for a cook. Payne stopped typing the entry. "I can't prove anythingyet." She deleted the entry and shut down the holographic display. Payne was in trouble and time was running out. Two days ago this seem...
Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: I long for you: 101 of 328

Take my soul it has no worth mournful joy confused embrace. Slave to hunger that has no ending, tormented lines weigh my face. Possess the wind an easy task, pound to sand a mountain peak. Pluck a planet from the heavens, teach an ocean to speak. To long for her is as these tasks, the impossible seems mundane. Breathing somb...
Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Dreams: 239 of 591

Hazy decent to the unknown. Earth or sea, clouds or air. Lion fish dance with lawnmowers Mosquito eats the bear. Colorless rainbows, nothing smells late night TV shows merge. Faces speak without language. Monks sing a dirge. Farmhouse roof below me now familiar place forgotten. People love me here I know, Out of reach I watc...
Creative Writing > Songs Songs: Christian: 74 of 148

Walking along on a beach I realize how small I really am. The mighty sea that lies before me God could hold in his hand and the breeze on my face it touches everyone in every place so how could God ever use me for I seem so small walking by the sea. Listening to the wind I began to really see that all God ever used were thos...
Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Being grumpy: 14 of 28

Rage in check for those I love I love no one this way. Grating words heard by no one heard by all, grumpy they say. Pungent smells of sulfur and of iron flames that no one sees. Torment in my minds dark shadows the grumpy soul grieves. See my fortune as a beacon take care not to miss Those who seem so happy have in store a g...
Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Hope: 138 of 245

HOPE Out of reach and so it should be caught and smothered its light will fade. Ponder laden hearts will fuel it Loved by some to others forbade. Working toward it seems so vain treading mundane blind we step. Fall we must due full to striving Loosing sight will cause regret. Hard the road we choose to climb fleshly goal wil...
Creative Writing > Reflections Reflections: Grandparents: 33 of 52

Summers in south Alabama are for the most hot and dry. Big water packed thundershowers could crop up at any point and drench a fishing trip. The smell in the air telegraphed the possibility. "Get them wigglers and red worms too, them big blue bream likem' best." I picked through the clump of dirt that Granny had just turned ...