Links to e-Book Give Away, Oct. 20, 21, & 22

 

 

http://amzn.to/2yra26K  Goblin’s Goop    

http://amzn.to/1M8WYoB  Christmas Christmas Everyday

http://amzn.to/2nW6WSo  Colors Talk

http://amzn.to/2nqE6G3  How the Snake Got Its Tail

http://amzn.to/2hPc4Dd   The Love Tree

http://amzn.to/2xR16b1 City Slicker’s Guide to the Amish Country

http://amzn.to/265rdpF  The Wolf Pack Moon

http://amzn.to/2yxsZ57  If I Were A Garden

Richard Rensberry, Author at QuickTurtle Books®

 

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Print Books or ebooks?

confused turtle

I am a voracious reader. My preference has always been hardback books.  I even shy away from paperbacks unless they are poetry books which seem perfectly fitted as paperbacks.  I have never been able to read a novel on an electronic device, though I can read poetry and children’s books on my iPad.  I am curious as to whether anyone regularly reads books electronically or if this ebook thing is mere hype and a fad that will pass.
I think I can envision a more robust reading experience on a big screen TV.  You know, kick back in a recliner and read a book in huge print while sipping a craft beer. Continue reading

Free Gifts Today!

FREE GIFTS TO ALL OF OUR  WORD PRESS FRIENDS! http://amzn.to/2n5srwa

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All of our E-BOOKS can be downloaded for free until April 3rd in celebration of National Library Week. Reviews welcome and much appreciated.

Richard and Mary Rensberry, Authors at QuickTurtle Books

I Saw It Coming

.    image           I Saw It Coming, The Series.  Part 1

I hike everyday.  It is energizing and allows my spirit to open up to my surroundings.  I am able to observe with the spirit’s eye and see universes beyond the physical reality of things.  I am delighted to take photographs and collect artifacts like feathers and wood for use in recreating what I have seen in my imagination.

On my many wanderings I have come to find hidden and secluded places where almost no human ever ventures anymore.   I am not talking about the wilderness, I am talking about within the city limits of San Francisco.  Most of The City is a massive tangle of abutted structures, but not all.  There are forsaken copses of trees and open spaces in this bustling cityscape.  Some appear forgotten as the now condemned Berlinski’s Hardware that sits forlorn with its boarded-up windows next to a twenty-first century Home Depot.  I used to frequent that old Hardware Store and it was way more interesting than Home Depot could ever dream of being.

My name is The Surest Sugar Maple.  The Elders christened me with the namesake as a young child because of my propensity to take calculated risks that none of the other kids could wrap their wits around.  I was the one that climbed the railroad trestle and tied the rope so we could fly out over the cliff and fall into the river.  I hunted and snared the rattlesnakes that were fodder for our moccasins.

If I wasn’t sure about a dare or a challenge, I wouldn’t take it on until I had it figured out to where the odds were in my favor.  I couldn’t be swayed but I could be bought.  It served me well in Hollywood where I spent many years working with the likes of John Wayne, Fess Parker, and Jimmy Stewart.  I was one of the Indians falling off horses, cliffs and bar stools.  I have an abundance of physical wounds to show for it, but I am alive and a very rich man because of it.

I am also old, but I am not as decrepit as the cocky little teenagers think.  They have begun to follow me at times and are over-confident, foolish and blind.  Their bodies are full of fast food and drugs.  They lack the power of observation.  They only see an old man, they do not see beneath the surface where I am fleet as a gazelle when and if I need and want to be.

The Skinny One and The Vulture had been waiting to ambush me when I came out of the Wells Fargo on Biscayne Street.  The Skinny One sidled up to me on my left while The Vulture nervously poked something implying a gun into my ribs.

“Gotcha old man,” The Skinny One hissed.  He was their teenage lips, their fear and their bravado all mixed up into one.  Of all the little gangsters that I had noticed he seemed like the one that was dangerous.  “Just do as I say,” he said, “And maybe you’ll live to tell your chess playing Bros about shitting your pants down at the Wells Fargo.”

What he didn’t have was the gun.  It was The Vulture that had the weapon in my ribs and I had  since surmised that he had no business as a hoodlum.  He was too sensitive, weak minded and a coward.  Besides that, I had purposely bumped him with my elbow and there had been no weight behind the supposed weapon.  It was either his finger or maybe a plastic water pistol.

They ushered me down Biscayne.  An old man and a couple of teenagers out for a stroll.   As they did so, I quickly concluded that I was probably in no real danger.  That’s the luxury of having made  a calculated risk,  the odds are in your favor.  When I added it up, one way or another they were destined to lose.  They were high on adrenalin and probably cocaine.  They were having visions of how they had already won.

To be continued.

Richard Rensberry, Author at QuickTurtle Books®

Stoned and Depressed

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Drugs are tricksters.

Drugs are imps.   They’ll tickle you.

They’ll mess with your head.    They’ll stare you down

and win.   Drugs are hostile

with a smile.   They’ll make you cringe.   They’ll make you laugh

with a knife menacing your back.   Drugs are punks.

Drugs are demons.   They are

brothers with no compassion, sisters with no remorse.

Drugs remember.   Drugs forget.

They stink, they lie, they cheat.   Drugs

are the epitome of deceit.

 

Richard Rensberry, Author at QuickTurtle Books

Complaints

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I’m tired…

tired of breathing

life into things

life into houses

life into cars

life into moving

this to there

and there to here

I’m tired

of going to things

going to work

going to get

going there to here

and there and back

I’m tired

of doing to things

doing the taxes

doing the dishes

doing this to that

and that to this

I’m tired

of way too much

too much noise

too much traffic

too many people

and that horrible

horrible news we make

I’m tired

of my own complaints.

 

Richard Rensberry, Author at QuickTurtle Books™

 

 

 

 

 

 

Common Sense, Snake Oil

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“Any need for a chemical or drug, be the need be derived via mind or body can be considered an addiction.  Creating that need and addiction is the job of modern day advertisers, kinfolk to the old snake oil salesmen that once sold cure-all elixirs filled with alcohol, opium, heroine, cocaine, etc.  Drug companies spend billions of dollars in advertising annually for the chance to catch you with your eyes closed and your pants down.  Their ads are plastered all over the internet and on TV.  You see them in magazines and on billboards.  Men (presumably with erectile dysfunction) sit around 24/7 thinking up new ads to get you hooked mentally or physically on one of their “products”.  Annually, only a handful of innocent people are killed as a result of police brutality.  The police are kittens and lambs compared to these snake oil crackers.  Drug companies kill thousands upon thousands of innocent people annually with their poisonous elixirs.  If you feel a need to vent your anger, pick a worthy opponent like Phizer.  Or how about Monsanto? Most policemen I have met are great guys and gals.  They are your friends, they’re not your enemy.”

Richard Rensberry, Author at QuickTurtle Books™