October Came, with all it's subtle feelings of fear and loss. Giving up the excitement of summers to find our own time where the sky tells stories of the spring and the winter whispers where it's been.

I wish I could just cling to the season with joy, much like children do. That feeling of holidays coming and families getting together but I know the changes that come in this time. I lost my dad in September,

almost lost my life to heart disease 3 years ago and that nip in the air is a warning.

Even if it's not a warning, it feels like it. A cool breeze comes through the window, sits down at the table-we need to talk.....

Poetry is a feeling of a moment. It grows and changes depending on the season. These poems are from Purple Shadows Flame...more from the previous post. I tend to write until it stops. Usually there is an immediate impetus and then it changes.

All of these poems have to do with fighting to see a new day and yet still reacting to a season. October is a month filled with many changes, adaptations. I am excited for 2026.

59

The 6th Decade

5 more days and you’ll give away, your 50s

Are you talking to me?

He stared in the mirror separate from himself

At this age

There’s no point in calling anyone else

Except mom

She’s always there

How long you acted like you didn’t care

But time shows us our minuses

And I’ve decided to add

Add gratitude to the menu

Everyone is starving but no one would choose

The cheapest, easiest appetizer

Appreciation and contentment

But we’ve been starved

5 more days, you will see in the mirror

Who you thought you’d be

And who you are.

The specialist asks questions

Like a thread and a needle forms a quilt

Or a line and a hook catches prey

What would you like to talk about today

The counselor sits uncomfortable

When they have the scalpel

I felt my inner child dissected

And it spoke so eloquently that day

He gave up all he was willing to say

And shuddered emotionally under the weight

The counselor shared a story that day

Something that would stay with the patient

For the rest of his days

And it was marked with God

And a careful hand

A blessing, a warning,

That’s hard to understand

From Purple Shadows, Flame - Artbygordon Poetry- Volume 1

Jain-Inspired by Singer

Farewell to a Muse

Winter Speaks

An Excerpt from From Purple Shadows Flame- Artbygordon.com-

Stay tuned for a link to entire collection-22 pages of poetry on artbygordonblog.com

Memories of the Sea

Some Memories of the Sea

Galveston...I remember the shrimp boats patrolling, we were all so much younger then,

The candy apple greens and the gulls calling,

those blue wooden homes near the shore, or across the street

the sand on your feet, the sound of the hoses spraying every last bit of sand,

you'd always miss some...

and the morning coffee, a ritual,

the quiet I can barely capture these days

all the beauty of that moment

captured, in words and pictures

as memories

fade.

I want to chase the sky

to see the sun descending

and the moments biding time

I want to be a stranger in an unfamiliar place

I want no one to know me

or recognize my face,

I'm already there I guess

the loneliness gave it away

I want to disappear out in the space

the highway

the forgiving highway

guides my way.

So small we are to the sea,

so small, like grains of sand

or the petulant weed.

I remember everything said a ghost crab

at night,

I remember everything a child

standing by my side.

and the sea is so large

compared to us

so powerful

so destructive

but we never get enough.

Out on the sand, memories whispered among the gulls

so small we are to the sea

how small our disagreements

seem.

Florida

Fruits of Ruin

Passionvine

An anomaly of a flower, out of a garden of purple incarnata, one single white flower with a pink center. 

I still haven't found a second one. I can only assume a recessive gene found it's place in the universe and in a garden of purple, a solitary white bloom.

Wisdoms Gained being a Stepdad

Stepparenting: A Life-Changing Experience

steven Gordon linebaugh

4 min read

·

Just now

I started writing this many years ago- I just posted it on Medium.

I don’t prefer the word stepdad. The word minimizes an honorable position in a family. Parenting is the most difficult job; challenging, heartbreaking, and inspiring.

I’ve raised two sons, my first was a stepson-what began as a risky endeavor became an incredible experience, an honor that has changed my life.

Raising kids is not for the faint of heart. You are sculpting individuals who must remain separate from yourself. They should be encouraged to make their own decisions. We hope they choose the best path but often the wrong path is how they discover themselves.

The Perks of Failure

Failures are teaching lessons, integral aspects of an adolescent becoming an adult; the wisdoms they develop are beyond the scope of well-meaning parents.

I learned from my mom and my own stepdad how to show up, to share interests and add adventure in everyday life. I watched someone who wrestled with authority and the lack of it at times.

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Playing the Cards You were Dealt

One of the greatest realizations is you don’t hold all the cards and your hand is limited. You have multiple families all seeking to help and offer assistance in raising a child and your intentions are in question from the start.

Your authority is always in question and you have to walk a thin line to not overstep and yet keep a level of respect.

In those early years, I was the one to get down on the floor and talk open and direct to a two year old. I listened to the excitement he felt about finding a bug or a special rock, I asked questions, I was present.

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Strength is Not Showing the Power You Possess or Lack

When you have limited power you find other ways to direct. You draw a line you refuse to cross to avoid causing more harm. Your discression will seem to others as helpless and indecisive but parenting is not about shear force, it is finesse.

This process taught me a useful parenting technique; ask yourself what your intention is before acting. Being a parent can be clumsy, the child will comply out of respect, fear or guilt. I always erred on respect which others may see as weakness.

Defining intention before acting allows for responding instead of reacting. Do you seek to let go of your stress, pound your chest, or do you want the child to truly listen? This exercise improves how a parent uses their words better maintains calm when others are losing control.

Some times when things get out of control and both parent and child are beyond their limits of reason, one needs to be the adult. One of you will need to de-escalate the situation and I can guarantee it will not be the child.

Tools in your Toolbox Like Cards In Your Hand

You have to be able to be fast on your feet, to adjust if needed, to apologize, regain control when it’s lost, again the child’s job is not to surrender — his job is to test the boundaries, to see who is in control.

Guilt can offer control but often at the detriment of the child and the inevitable hurt and resentment. Guilt is more destructive than it is productive.

Next is fear that will eventually become anger and distrust. A good manager earns their employee’s respect, they don’t need fear to motivate.

Respect is not something you will get from a teenager testing boundaries.

The All-Powerful Hug: Really it Works

Love is the bridge that reaches two sides who’ve become adversaries. Give a teen a hug, both of you have said things, done things, you’ve both lost the battle-you are at deadlock.

A genuine hug means I love you, I don’t like you right now but I love you. I have seen more positive results from this and when I’ve failed to be that bridge I’ve even had a teen remind me — “Why didn’t you just hug me.”

A hug is like saying we can’t agree but we live to fight another day. Parenting teaches us aspects of humanity, about strength and weakness, about honor and empathy. Being a stepdad has inspired me to be better. I feel honored to be a stepdad, a blessing that has changed my life.

I wrote this post and left it here for many years-it was a draft I just rekindled.

I wrote a series of poems years ago about raising my stepson-it was called Shaping the Illusive Form - series of trying to raise my son and the obstacles of being a step dad- please check back as I will be publishing the poetry shortly. 

One poem is about raising a child as an artist- It is probably pretty rough in that it was written so long ago but my summation is as follows. 

A Painter to a Son

My painting sits on an easel,

you want attention,

I'm covered in oil and linseed,

I set your watercolors out,

you ask questions, I try quickly to reply,

it's a tug of war between

your art and mine.

But we persist.

I teach you about form,

you show me color and texture,

unafraid you stain your canvas,

the floor, the wall,

I grimmace as mom walks by

my easel firm and tall.

While you scribble on canvas

your face, your hands,

I look with a bit of aggravation

though I try to understand

between two artists, we struggle

to succeed, all the lessons of being present

you've taught me

You ask me to look too much,

you ask me the same question

too many times to ignore

with all my frustration, I know you could see it,

I clean up the wall and scrub the floor

all that time, I hope I spent well

a moment we'll never restore

You smiled, and put down your canvas

you're not a child anymore.

To Kyle- My Stepson-The Son I Chose

Dead Prey by R.L. Clayton