Lord Frankenfeeter



A Three Act Play of Sorts
English version by Wordydave
Characters:  Lady Janella, most beautiful wife of her stalwart husband
Lord Frankenfeeter, stalwart husband of his beautiful wife

SCENE:  Lord Frankenfeeter’s enormous castle in far away Italy. The year is 1565. There has just been a grievous accident to Lord Frankenfeeter’s kicking foot. The whole land is devastated by the news that the young Lord will never play soccer again.



Alas! Sweet perfect pair! O, prized delights!
Methinks I durst not gaze upon thy wound
For fear of wounding more with careless sight!
O, fallen Champion! I, too, must swoon!

[Lady Janella faints at Lord Frankenfeeter’s feet]


O, double wound!  For now my heart is pierced!

[Lord Frankenfeeter hobbles to an open window and engages the night sky]

What misery attends us mortals, Moon!
M’lady faints because her love is fierce,
And I am plagued with far too much too soon!

[Lord Frankenfeeter hobbles back to Lady Janella, bends down and takes her in his arms]

Awake, my daunted dove and dare to smile!

[Lady Janella half wakes]


M’lord, I pray thee, let me sleep awhile.
I see thy pristine prancing in my dream –
A stalwart stag who storms along the stream.
Deny me not this dram, my doleful dear.
To sleep!  To dream!  To snore away the tears!

[Lady Janella swoons again]


O, choice companion, leave me not alone
To brave defeat! The moon is dumb, the stars
Are silent, and these shadowed walls are stone!
How can mortal wear such scourging scars?

[Lord Frankenfeeter hobbles back to the window]

Farewell, sweet life! Farewell, sweet wife! Adieu!
‘Tis better dreams preserve my perfect hue!

[Lord Frankenfeeter jumps out window as Lady Janella awakes in time
to see him airborne. She races to the window and looks down upon his
lifeless form]


LADY JANELLA: [with tears]

To be or not to be, that was the question.
The answer lies below – the secret learned –
The pavement teaches such a cruel lesson.
But hark!  How now?  His quite dead head doth turn!
Yea, doth turn and smile!  Doth even speak!

O quiet, pounding heart, for he doth seek
An audience before he flies away!
O, foolish Lord of mine, say on I pray!

[Lady Janella’s tears rain upon her fallen love]

LORD FRANKENFEETER: [in death throes]

Janella, dear, my Lady Fair, the dew
That drops from scented cheeks I’ll feel no more!
The face with sparkling eyes will fade from view!
I go a fool and with me goes footsore!
Hail, eternity!
I most humbly greet thee!

[Lord Frankenfeeter succumbs]


LADY JANELLA: [weeping profusely now]

O, brave – O, foolish knight, I love thee still!
Though motionless to eyes, my heart doth spy
The memory of faultless form and skill!
O, Frankenfeeter, I too must choose to die!

[Lady Janella climbs onto the window ledge, raising her arms
to moon and stars]

To live, to love, to lose life all too soon!
I call thee witness to my plight, O, Moon!
And as I float toward my long exile,
I beg of thee to somewhat hide thy smile.

[Lady Janella flies to her love who waits below]



Written for Jan and Frank, fellow
workers after Frank suffered
a nail-in-foot accident at work.




In the beginning was the word – and then another – and another. The adventure arrived like waves crashing in a dream – the dark waters – the blinding sunlight. Juices flowing – fingers racing – imagining the recipe – thoughts baking – black on white – laughing at the lion – no farewells.

And then the desert, the empty water bottle in the sand and shotgun in the closet.

Poor Ernest.

I’m so glad prose never excited me and God is my God.

An Inheritance Incorruptible

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The news is three days late. We missed the ascent and angels’ song. Our goodbyes were in the get well cards and letters.

“Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who according to His abundant mercy has begotten us again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead,  to an inheritance incorruptible and undefiled and that does not fade away, reserved in heaven for you,  who are kept by the power of God through faith for salvation ready to be revealed in the last time.” I Peter 1:3-5

To fly away, to see the Source, to worship only, to touch the infinite, to know the eternal, to drink the pure, to taste the true treasure . . . to love forever.


The Dailies

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These last few years leave me no choice: I must ask God for daily strength. I remember listening to an old Focus on the Family radio broadcast where James Dobson had talked to a high school girl. She was struggling with her repetitive, non-eventful, painful routine of life. She told him, “Life is so . . . so . . . so . . . DAILY!

Well, she had learned at an early age that those 24 hours we’re given are a constant this side of eternity. The sun rises and sets with absolute precision. The moon goes through its perpetual phases, occasionally punctuated with an eclipse. When you’re a kid the days seem so long, the years trudge by, and life changes are barely discernible. And then you grow up, get older and try to slow things down as the days and years start whizzing by.

As I said, these last few years have been flying by. That’s a plus when old age takes a toll on your body and your strength level falls by 25% or more. Just getting through a full (and overtime) work day isn’t as easy as it used to be. Project hours around the house are fewer on Saturdays as you’re trying to rest more. Sundays have always been a no or little work day, thankfully.

The Psalmist knew something of this as told us in Psalm 71:9 “Do not cast me off in the time of old age; do not forsake me when my strength fails.” 

Lord, as you give daily bread, you give daily strength – can I not thank you each morning for this prayer answered? Indeed.

And the Hills shall Break Forth into Singing

There are those rare days when the beauty of God’s creation reminds me of the infinite glory of an infinite Being. Truly, the hills were singing His praises with their own version of All Things Bright and Beautiful. It was wildflower overture time in the lower Sierra, with dozens of different flowers carpeting the hillside above the Mokolumne River.

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Lord, we lift up your name, you who are the giver of every good and perfect gift, of this world and the next.

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Gallery here: Electra Road Wildflowers