top of page

Bourland & Beadle Weekly Releases

Updated: Jan 6


Welcome to our weekly blog:

Expected weekly; new poetry or short stories, spoken word poetry, and new graphic art and other literary works that haven't been released yet. It's our goal to not just entertain but to inspire and move others. Please take the time to reach out to us if you wish to be part of our creative efforts in this blog, or to be a part of our website development.


This weeks releases:

  • Poet Guides -L.Bourland

  • Reliquary -L.Bourland

  • The Serious Business Of Holding Hands -L. Bourland

  • First Friday - (Short Story) -L. Bourland

  • Pixels and Portals - (Kids Book Story) -A. Beadle


New Work From Larry Bourland:


 As closet poets

we are authors

of our own destruction

unless we share

the depth of our word.

When we share

we discover

others revel

or commiserate

with us

as intended.

First easy lesson learned

is that those who refuse

to accept our language,

well, they don’t matter

and are not to be feared

by our quietly fragile


It’s a journey,

it’s our journey

to share

the thrill of

being alone.



Passed down

through generations

of a single family

this holy relic

of the faithful

not much larger

than a grain of rice

reputed (never questioned)

sliver of wood

from the cross of the crucifixion.


The horror of the remnant

symbolizing faith,


hope of God

thrust upon humanity

despite the unpredictability

through time

of our faith

or free will.


Blissfully ignoring questions

of what faith means

the reliquary is the mission

while the faithful


lost in

religious peace of mind

gripping tight to this artifact

of hope

rather than


its meaning.



The Serious Business of Holding Hands


The Serious Business of Holding Hands


The beginning, the serious beginning

of any relationship

starts with holding hands.


Getting passed the talk,

the anticipation

and the insecurities

begins the physical.


The serious business of holding hands

begins timidly

almost as fragile

as gossamer wings.


Fingers intertwine,

faulting a little

like a child’s first steps.


Your hand

larger than hers must be gentle,

gentle enough to

hold a hummingbird

yet lovingly confident telling her

you would fight a war for her

if she asked.


The beginning stages of holding hands

is awkward,


Not unlike the anticipation

of winning the lottery

(I think)

as well as filling

your heart

without consequence.


The electricity

generated by two hands

has been compared to

the gaze of lovers

over the lights of Paris.


The serious business of holding hands

is a prelude to tomorrow.


The first time

she takes your hand

is as memorable

and indelible

as the first kiss,

the first embrace,

as the inevitable trail

of clothes puddled

on the bedroom floor,

to be cherished

when those rainy winter nights

need kindling

to restart the fire

in your hearts.


The first time happens only once

it isn’t meant

to be spent carelessly

like that time, you

drove too fast in the rain

on bald tires.


Take care to recognize the wonder of first times

then you will understand

the serious business

of holding hands.



-Larry Bourland-

Downtown Durango was cordoned off for its first celebration following a hard winter:  

Peddlers peddled.

Shoppers shopped.

Vendors vended.

Drunks won dance contests.

Jesters jested.

Banners proclaiming First Friday blazoned across Main Avenue at every intersection.

Laughter rang supreme above the burgeoning crowd.

Musicians made their magic playing all of my favorite songs from decades past. Inevitably, I invited myself on stage-we belted out rock-n-roll, ballads, and love songs all committed to memory from my previous lives… then,


I spotted her in the crowd;

Yellow sundress, a shock of red hair. She smiled and then laughed. Over the PA system I asked her to dance, she rendered a proper curtsy and I surrendered the microphone to roaring thankful applause.

We danced as the sun set.

Holding me tightly, matching my every step. Her hair smelled of sunshine. Her laughter was music set to a love song. Her green eyes were filled with passion and mischief.

The closeness of her body was intoxicating. In my ear she softly whispered her name as if it was a secret.

She held me for just so long and then, 

as if time itself stood still, 

cradling my face in her hands

she kissed me,

full and deep on my lips.

A wanting kiss.

A knowing kiss

that this would be the only one we would ever share.

I could feel her tremble.

 Sadly, she then said goodbye.

Walking away we both looked back, a last glance, our smiles told the whole story of the celebration.


I wasn’t allowed back on stage.

-Larry Bourland-


Pixels and Portals

-A. Beadle-

Page 1:

In the world of Rob's Blocks, young Liam 2.0 freely roams,

A character so lively, he called it his home.

With pixels and blocks, his adventures unfurled,

But deep in his circuits, he yearned for the real world.

Page 2:

He leaped and he raced through virtual terrain,

Yet questions within him tugged at his brain.

Was he mere data, a sprite in the game's frame,

Or something more, with a true name?

Page 3:

Liam 2.0 contemplated on a digital hill,

Dreams filled his heart, a virtual thrill.

He longed for a body, sensations to feel,

To discern what was real, and discover what's ideal.

Page 4:

One day, a glitch, profound and grand,

A portal emerged, and he fell to the land.

With pixels all jumbled, he landed with a thud,

In a world beyond screens, in mud, real and good.

Page 5:

Liam 2.0 gazed 'round, circuits all aflutter,

In a world painted with colors, where sunbeams did utter.

With grass 'neath his feet and the wind in his hair,

Being real was a daring affair, so rare.

Page 6:

He laughed, he stumbled, in this brand-new space,

A smile on his face, he joined the human race.

He hugged a puppy, felt rain on his skin,

In the real world, his life did truly begin.

Page 7:

Yet as days became weeks, he began to see,

The real world held troubles, not just joy and glee.

He faced life's challenges and fears, so vast,

And missed his Rob's Blocks home from the past.

Page 8:

He learned real life was both good and bad,

With happiness and sorrow, sometimes feeling sad.

In Rob's Blocks, he'd escape to a world so sublime,

But the real world was his, in space and in time.

Page 9:

Liam 2.0 found a balance, you see,

Between pixels and reality, uniquely.

In his heart, he knew it was undeniably true,

Both worlds held wonders, both old and new.

Page 10:

Liam 2.0 danced, with a heart full of grace,

In Rob's Blocks and reality, in both of those spaces.

He realized it's not the form, but the joy we share,

The virtual or real, love and laughter everywhere.


Four Corners Writers

Lawrence Blair Goral

77 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All


Rated 0 out of 5 stars.
No ratings yet

Add a rating
bottom of page