Sibley Shamra
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Poetry is simply diction strung together as I see fit.
Stories (109)
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Knotted Roots - Part 5
“This is quite the property, I see why your friend returned home,” Greg stated in awe. It was only natural for people to love the Blacks’ land. It had a gorgeous view of the mountain range, the open meadow filled with wildflowers. And every evening, God painted masterpieces across the sky. With a steadying breath I exited the car, Greg already halfway to the door. Scurrying to catch up, I had to make sure I was nearby as the Black’s don’t take kindly to strangers on their doorstep. With a rapid rasp on the door, Mr. Black peeked through the thin screen door, “Grace! What a lovely surprise to see you!” Mr. Black exclaimed, swinging the screen door open. “And who’s this?” His face stern with Greg before him, a stranger. “Mr. Black, this is…” “I’m Greg, Greg Combs.” A sly smile on his face. He extended his hand to Mr. Black although hesitant, I sensed he shook Greg's hand to appease the tension in the air and because I brought him here. “Right, well, come inside.” “Actually…” Greg began, “We’d love to Mr. Black!” I cut in, overstepping Greg, saving him from the Black’s generational test of respect. Greg followed my lead, “Great! I believe there’s still some tea in the fridge, help yourself Grace.” “Thank you sir.” I left Greg and Mr. Black in the main living area for a brief moment, returning with a glass of tea for everyone. “Mr. Black, I was hoping your son, Justin, was around?” “Justin? You mean Jasper?” “Yes, my apologies, sir. Where is he exactly?” “Well, he went into town, said he needed some supplies for the barn, probably won’t be back for quite awhile. What’s all this about?” Mr. black pressed, almost demanding Greg to answer him. I had to intervene before Mr. Black took offense to Greg being in his home. “Mr. Black, Greg, I brought everyone a glass!” “Ah, thank you love.” Greg replied, wrapping me up to sit upon his knee as we all sat in the living area. Mr. Black appeared to notice that Greg meant more to me than just an acquaintance and I was thankful when his expression softened. “So, you said Jasper went into town?” I asked, as if to thin the thickness lingering in the air. “That’s right, I was just telling Greg here that he probably won’t be back for quite some time.” “I see. Well I’d be more than happy to leave you with a Shepherd’s pie before we leave, I mean you’ve been so kind to us.” “Oh, how could I resist some of the Wither’s best recipes! I’d be delighted.” Mr. Black respectfully accepted my offer, but he was keeping his eye on Greg. “Well, I’ll leave you men to it, and I’ll be in the kitchen.” “Let me help you love.” Greg piped up, “Oh, don’t be silly Greg. Besides I’m sure you and Mr. Black have a lot to talk about.” I said with a coy smile, hoping he would at least tell Mr. Black his feelings for me. I mean I know the Black’s aren’t family, but Greg knows how I treat’em as such. If tonight is a proposal, perhaps he could at least enlighten Mr. Black.
By Sibley Shamra4 months ago in Chapters
Knotted Roots - Part 4
While splashing cold water on my face, I could hear my father talking downstairs and then I heard boots thudding along each aged wooden plank of the stairs. Slow, methodical. I peered through the bathroom door as the figure passed by, it was Grace. I could smell her perfume like the zest of fresh grapefruit. My nose flaring as I took in the scent wafting in the air, I left my shirt ragged, unbuttoned, my pants snug around my hips. I made sure not to make a sound as I shadowed her in the hall. I was taking her in, the way her hips swayed in her daisy dukes. Her hair bouncing off her shoulders. As she pushed open my door seeing my empty bed, I figured what better way to get the drop in on her than now. With a quiet step I closed the distance, pressing my chest to her back and raking my hands down her arms until I interlocked with her fingers. My voice rugged, I whispered “Mornin’ darlin.” Her head leaned back as if granting me permission. Her eyes fluttered closed. I moved her hair to one side and trailed light kisses along her neck until she stepped forward. I gently released her as she spun to face me. “I don’t forgive you.” She rushed, a playful smirk on her lips. “Excuse me?” “You asked me to forgive you last night, well I don’t.” Hesitation ached in my chest, yet I couldn’t help but feel unapologetic. “Why’s that kitten? Is Greg going to be jealous?” I stated bluntly. Grace’s face stiffened when I mentioned Greg, as if a cruel reminder of the fool she was with, or at least that’s my opinion. “Greg is…” “He was a distraction.” I cut in. “Distraction?” I moved closer, my hand reaching to lift her chin, I yearn for the way her eyes are like a doe when I do that, the way she silently begs for it. “You don’t have to explain anything, kitten.” My head leaning towards her, my fingertips trailing along her jaw and down to her collarbone. Hooking the strap of her tank top. “Jasper…” “Tell me Grace, does he make you like this?” “Like what?” “Like this. You’re breathless, anxious in the best way possible.” Her face said it all, her eyes full of need and her body relaxing into my arms. In a moment of desire I kissed her with my soul, passionately. Her hands explored my upper body. “Let me treat you how you deserve.” “And what do I deserve?” Her curiosity pleading with insatiable thirst. I forced myself to let go, steadying her on her feet. I began to button my shirt as I searched for separation. I didn’t want to mark her as mine just yet, I want her to confess she feels as strongly about me as I do about her. Her body says yes, but she’s been giving her heart to another man. Someone who isn’t him. “Why do you do this to me Jasper?” “Do what?” I questioned, brows furrowed as I took in her pained and confused expression. “Tease.” I stopped midway, frozen as I took in her pained words. “You think I just want to tease you?” A dark, almost cruel tone slipped from my lips. “Forget it…” She whispered “Oh like how you forget who Greg is when you’re around me?” My words were like a slap to her perfectly rounded face. “Greg is a great man.” “Just not great in bed huh?” Her face was in utter shock as even I was surprised I spoke the words aloud. “This was a mistake.” Grace’s pained whisper shattered me, and I watched as she scurried off into her truck and drove away.
By Sibley Shamra4 months ago in Chapters
Knotted Roots - Part 3
“Jasper…” I could hear my father faintly calling me as I heard the screen door slam shut. “Coming, Pa.” Letting him know I heard him. Kicking off my dusty boots by the door, I made my way upstairs to my father's bedroom, where he was lying in bed. His face is the perfect expression of exhaustion. “Pa, you’re up late. Everything okay?” “Jasper, how’s the fence?” “All finished, Pa. Couldn’t come home til I saw it through,” I said, smirking, something I raised to pride myself in was completing a project, and when you got so close to the finish line, we just saddled up and saw it through. Hard work was like a genetic trait passed down for generations in my family. Hearing the fence was completed caused Pa to smile, a brief moment of warmth in his eyes. “I’m proud of you, son…” Pa choked out as his coughing spells began. I quickly poured him a glass of water from his bedside. I learned to keep a pitcher ready for moments like this. Pa took the glass and sipped it with relief. Placing the glass on his bedside table, he motioned for me to sit in the nearby chair. “Sit my boy, tell me all about her.” I was caught off guard, “About who, Pa?” “Oh, don’t play shy with me, boy. I know a heartbreak when I see it.” Was it that obvious? Releasing a heavy sigh, I pulled the small wooden chair over to my father’s bedside. “Well, I wouldn’t say heartbreak.” I began with a smirk, my eyes fixated on a candle burning slowly next to the pitcher of water. “It’s just, I have a few regrets for leaving…” “Oh, come now. You needn’t dwell on what’s passed you. It’s how you move forward. So, who is she?” Pa always had a way of settling storms in your chest with his words of wisdom. I found that I couldn’t help but smile just thinking of her, “It’s Grace.” “Grace?” His eyes looked as if he was searching for a log to place her. After a brief moment, Pa’s eyes lit up with such excitement and almost sparkled at the thought. “Grace Withers…such a fine young woman.” I felt like my cheeks flushed for a moment, I tried to shake it away with a brief chuckle as I found peace knowing my Pa was approving of her. “Yeah, she’s a little spitfire, ain’t she?” Pa and I shared a knowing laugh, “Marry her, Jasper…she’s good for you.” Marry her? Now that’s a thought. I never saw myself as marriage material. I marry myself to manual labor, this ranch, that’s what I’m bound to. “Slow down there cowboy…” I tapped Pa’s hand with mine. “Besides, it’s too late anyway, she’s with some pretty boy.” “Pretty boy?” Pa repeated my words, as if confused. My head swooped low for a moment, again trying to shutter my emotions from my all-wise father. “Well, back in my day…” “Oh no, I’m not about to challenge this poor fool to a Western Shoot Out Pa!” I cackled, knowing my father was going to say some witty, outlandish statement to deter my stormy heart. “Come now, you’re no fun!” I enjoyed seeing my father still have his wits about him. I fear that he’s nearing his end here, but I cling to these moments, the candid talks, the lifelong lessons, and the generations of tradition he’s taught me. Please God, spare him some time, perhaps to let him see me married, to see me happy before he passes. He deserves that at least, right? “You know Jasper…” My father began, “Remember this my dear boy. There never was a horse that couldn’t be rode; never was a cowboy that couldn’t be thrown.” He smirked as he patted my hand as if reassuring me. “Thank you for those…wise words, Pa.” I chuckled, standing from the chair. “Goodnight, Jasper.” “Goodnight, Pa.” After resetting the chair where it was, I blew out the candle and made my way to my room as I quietly shut the door behind me. Was my father challenging me to win Grace’s heart? My father’s words echoed in my head as I shed off my soggy jeans and made my way to the shower. The water heat was never reliable, and so the brisk, cold water helped me to clear my thoughts. Afterwards, I wrapped a towel around my waist. Making my way from the bathroom and across the hall to my room, I found myself desperate for sleep. My internal alarm always woke me up just before sunrise, when the sky was a beautiful dull blue, and stars were fading from view. I took a morning shower, warm water relaxing my aching muscles, a wonderful surprise from the water heater. As I loosely slung a towel around me, my stomach rumbled with the sound of thunder. Pa’s probably going to be hungry soon anyway, might as well make breakfast. With a match, I got the burner lit and placed a skillet of eggs over the flame. Bacon grease popping in the oven and like a cowboy’s cologne saturated the air. I could hear my father getting up as the wooden floor creaked above me and his footsteps slow as he descended the staircase. “Easy there Pa.” I stated as I fixed his plate and poured a glass of fresh orange juice. “Well, I was going to sleep in until the aroma of bacon came wafting upstairs!” “Sorry to wake you Pa, but you should’ve heard the thunder brewing in this belly.” I tapped my stomach, still air drying from the shower. “So, have you spoken to Grace yet?” “Pa…It’s not even sunrise yet.” An anxious laugh escaped me. “Well, you haven’t gotten dressed so I figured you went on a ride last night.” Pa teased as I was still covered by my towel. “No Pa, you raised me better than that.” Pa smirked, “I raised you to be a man, Jasper, not a pushover.” Pa’s words stung a bit, but I brushed them off. I get the sense that he wanted me to pursue Grace, regardless of this Greg guy who is swooning over her. “Cowboys never shy from competition, Jasper. You know that.” Pa stated plainly as he finished his breakfast, sipping the rest of his orange juice. Rising to clean the table, “Leave the dishes, Jasper, I can still do some chores around here.” Pa stated his nose in a newspaper. “Sure thing Pa.” With the cool morning weather slipping away, I got dressed, slipped on my dusty old boots and flipped my cowboy hat on, tucking my work gloves in my back pocket. I think I’ll check on the barn today, make sure Crimson our stallion, has feed and a clean stall. Then perhaps check on the cattle roaming around. Breathing in the morning summer dew that clung to the ground. Crimson was eager to run, we felt it necessary to leave access between his stall and the pasture so he could come and go as he pleased. Crimson neighed as if saying good morning, and hooked his long nose behind my neck as if a brotherly hug. My neck was tickled by his whiskers. “Good morning to you too, Crimson. How’s about a sugar cube to start your day?” I teased, as I presented the treat in my palm. Crimson was a red colored Arabian Stallion, all muscle, and fast as lightning. Crimson was a gift from my father. I broke him in after he won him in an auction. My high school years were spent bonding with Crimson, it was like he trusted me, always had my back, and loved to ride fast. The thrill was all too appealing to a young cowboy, “Let’s see if you still have that young heart Crimson. What do you say to a ride?” Crimson excited, pranced around with excitement. Crimson and I both hated saddles, just never was comfortable. After meeting Crimson outside of the barn near his stall, I grabbed a tuft of his mane, hoisting myself on his back. Rubbing and patting Crimson’s side, I found peace of mind, thoughtless, nothing but me and him. Rounding into the open acreage, hugging Crimson tightly with my legs, I gave the clicking command and without hesitation, Crimson went full sprint. I braced myself, pressing my hat down so as not to lose it. With a joyous yelp, I breathed in the wildflowers in the open meadow. And for a moment, I felt free, as if releasing any ounce of regret from my past, it merely slipped off, left behind somewhere. As Crimson began to slow down near the edge of our property, I was able to catch my breath as well. “What a ride Crimson.” I gasped, patting his sweaty neck. “Yaw!” I heard Grace’s voice echo from the hill hiding her family’s ranch from ours. “Right on time.” I breathed, Crimson neighing as if amused. “Mornin' cowboy!” Grace hollered as she rode Spot near the fence line dividing our properties. “And to what do I owe the pleasure ma’am?” I laughed. “I thought I heard the mustangs again, but I shoulda’ known it’d be you and Crimson running amuck out here!” Grace’s teasing accent was like a breath of fresh air, tipping my hat to her, “My apologies ma’am.” Grace snickered and shook her head in amusement. “You should come by tonight Jasper, I’m cooking my legendary meatloaf.” Grace’s meatloaf was legendary, and my stomach rumbled at the thought. “Please, it’d be great for you to see my parents, they haven’t stopped asking about ya.” Her thick accent and charming eyes were irresistible! “I’ll be there.” “You promise!” “You have my word.” I declared, removing my hat, and making a grand gesture with it across my chest and bowing my head as if she were royalty. “I’ll let my parents know you’re coming! Six o’clock!” She hollered as she gave Spot a gentle kick and they rode away. Her blonde hair whipped behind her as Spot gained speed. She truly does keep me on my toes. Dinner? I should let Pa know not to expect me tonight.
By Sibley Shamra4 months ago in Chapters
Knotted Roots - Part 2. Top Story - September 2025.
My sweat-soaked and mud-stained shirt draped over Spot’s saddle, as Grace and I walked with our arms linked. The burnt amber glow behind the mountains quickly faded, and the starry night and full moon illuminated our dirt trail. For a few minutes, we walked silently, both of us keeping a curious eye on the sky, as if hoping this moment would never end. “You know, I don’t think I mentioned this before, but…” Grace hesitated, a small smile shadowed by the brim of her hat, which was pulled upwards as her eyes watched our boots. “It’s really nice having you back.” She stated, a slight hint of relief in her voice, peering upwards towards me to meet my eyes, as I looked over at her. Unable to really respond, I smiled at her as the stubble from my beard prickled my cheeks. I wish I were here because I truly wanted to be here, not out of remorse from a dying father. But what kind of son would I be if I allowed his legacy to die, to let him die alone? Ever since mom passed, he was always focused on the ranch. I grew weary of it all and wanted to experience life outside of this country lifestyle. Would Grace understand that? Should I tell her? Deciding to shake off the uneasiness, I decided to push that conversation off for another time. “Yeah, Grace, it’s good to be home.” Her eyes sparkled under the night sky, lulling me into her warmth. I placed my hand on her arm, as if assuring her. “Remember when we would run through the wildflowers?” She began, “You mean, chasing you for stealing my lasso?” With a shared moment of laughter she continued, “Okay, I may have borrowed…” “Borrowed? Is that what we call it now?” I teased. “Okay, first off, I at least know how to use a lasso!” Her snarky recoil caused a shift in me, a warmth in my center. The truth is, I missed Grace, but I didn’t miss the painful memories from losing my mom and now my ill father. “Second,” She continued, and her voice faded as I became consumed by her witty playfulness, the way her dimples revealed her bluff. “You think you can lasso better than me?!” I asked her, my voice low, husky. We came to a stop, my eyes challenging her, my smile welcoming. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were presenting a challenge.” Grace had moved in a way where we were facing each other, her voice low, alluring as her accent still thick. She leaned inwards and shifted upwards from her tiptoes. “You know I love a good competition.” The way her smile grew and the feeling of pure electricity between us intensified. Tucking a loose blonde curl behind Grace’s ear, I cupped her chin in my rough hand, her skin soft and radiant. “Jasper…” The breathlessness in her voice was being restrained by something, “Yes, my kitten…” My eyes darkened, my mouth dry. “I…” “Grace!” A male’s voice rang out, cutting the tension between us, a voice I didn’t recognize. My face, shadowed and hidden by my hat brim, hid my annoyance from Grace, a moment to adjust before she could see. “Who’s that little kitten?” Her head hung low and then upwards with a reassuring smile, one that was almost apologetic in a way, “That’s uh, well…” “There you are, Grace!” A lean, muscled man came running up, his jeans dark and clean, his boots without a scuff, his blonde wavy hair tucked behind his ears, a loose white button-down shirt tucked behind an oversized belt buckle. He swept by me, embracing her in his arms, spinning her around as her feet lifted from the ground. “I thought something had happened to you…” “Greg, I…I’m just fine, and I can stand on my own; you needn’t sweep me up like that.” Grace clamored with poise and elegance as she charmingly demanded to be put down. This Greg, whoever he was, doesn’t appear to be a cowboy; he’s too clean-cut, too polished. “Oh! I’m sorry, man, I was just so caught up seeing my little sunshine here, I lost my manners. The name’s Greg, Greg Combs.” He extended his hand, reluctantly, I shook his hand. It was like waving a limp noodle, as my firm hand squeezed his as if silently warning him. “Jasper Black.” My tone was sharp like a blade. “Well, Grace, it looks like you’ll find your way from here,” I said as I gave Spot a few pats. Tipping my hat to Grace respectfully, I walked off towards my porch, digging my hands in my pockets, not looking back. Of course she had a boyfriend; hell, he could be her husband for all I know! I don't want to ruin her any more than I already have. I realized as my boots thudded across the wooden porch, I left more than just my father that day. I left her.
By Sibley Shamra4 months ago in Chapters
Knotted Roots - Part 1
It was different here. Like I could smell the dirt, if Earth had a smell, it would be a mix of burnt wood and hearty protein. The breeze gently cooled me from a scorching summer sun. I was ready to call it a day, but I nearly finished installing the fence I promised my old man. My once white shirt, stained in mud and ripped from snagging on nails and splinters, useless. I removed my sweat drenched cowboy hat for a brief moment while I swiftly removed my shirt. My chest and stomach glistened from the sun. Checking my water source, I was running low, but since the job was almost done and I was desperate for relief from the heat, I poured the rest of my water over my limp, clingy hair. Swiping my hair back as I donned my hat again. Adjusting my work gloves as I bent down to grab the last few nails and hammer. I make quick work of the rest of the fence. Wiping my brow, blinking the burning sweat from my eyes, I felt the ground under my leather boots rumble. Steadying my breath, I breathe a calm breath. The wild horses must be running again. The wild mustangs have been running rampant lately. With a curious mind, I found myself in awe watching them sprint wildly, freely. Leaning on the fencepost, I finished in time to watch the sun setting behind the mountain ridgeline. “Your canvas is beautiful God.” I whispered aloud, taking in the way the burnt amber glow of the sky, the way the clouds hung low as if a visual of God’s very breath. I lost track of reality for a brief moment, until I heard the holler of an all too familiar voice. Grace was excitedly hollering as she rode bareback on a beautiful appaloosa horse she named Spot, a beautiful stallion she raised. We grew up together, her parents owned the ranch adjacent to ours. Grace had her hair in a loose braid, her white cowboy hat shading her emerald eyes. Grace gave a command to Spot who reared, leaving me a picturesque moment to behold as she became a heroic silhouette amidst the sunset. “My, my, Grace…you’ve really done it this time.” Chuckling to myself. I felt the strength as Spot cantered toward me, Grace confidently commanding his course. “What have we here?” Grace teased as she briskly dismounted from Spot. “Well, we have a finished fenceline.” “Well it’s about time Jasper!” Grace’s smile always seemed to have healing powers. “Well, as a reward, how about a ride back home?” “Well that’d be mighty generous of you, but I don’t want to go home just yet.” “Oh? But the sun’s nearly set. What could you possibly have to work on that’s so important right now?” Grace snickered, always admiring my work ethic. She knew I was here to save my father’s farm as he fell ill this past year. I take care of all the manual labor, while taking him to doctor appointments and driving to town to grab his medications. “Ah! Who says I was working?” I challenged, “Then what on earth do you plan on doing out here so late?” Her southern accent grew thick and illuminated her natural beauty. “Well you’re right, the sun’s setting, the breeze is picking up and we have a clear sky tonight. Thought I might walk the path back under the stars.” My voice hoarse, her eyes searched my soul while her smile never fades. “You’re welcome to join me, and Spot of course, if you’d like.” Grace shifted on her heels for a moment, and nodded. “I’d like that.” Grace glances over her shoulder, “What’dya say Spot?” Spot neighed and stomped as if saying yes. “Well that settles it.” I offered my arm to Grace who hooked her elbow around mine as we began the slow walk back to my dimly lit porch a few acres in the distance. Spot followed with silent obedience as if protective in case any lone wolves dared to enter the property.
By Sibley Shamra4 months ago in Chapters
