Mirrors Photo


I am the man in the varnished door;

created by the moonlight,

afraid to enter.


I am the man reflected in my lover’s eye;

if not in her mind.


I am the man who reflects his parent’s appearance;

however, possibly not their wishes.


I am the man frowning at me from my laptop’s black screen;

I disappear when the machine is awakened,

my self-emancipation.


I am the man who is asked to reflect my religion’s morals;

or, in darkness, the lack of them.


I am the man who ripples his own image in the pool where he fishes;

or, at times, sits and contemplates while tossing pebbles,

mindful of his problems.


I am the man standing in front of the executive washroom sink;

grieving my own loss of morals.


I am the man sitting on a park bench;

reflecting on how I squandered,

my life.


I am the man whose name and face appear on political posters;

reflecting on my re-election rather than

on my constituents’ needs.


I am the man standing at the podium in a liberal college;

deluding my students to model my political beliefs.


I am the man whose sins are mirrored back to him;

haunting in their depth and disturbing color,

within the kaleidoscope of his own mind.


I am the man who sees himself in everyone else’s actions;

thereby not really understanding,

others or himself.


I am the man whose reflections must be put into words;

then read back to himself to determine

what they really mean.


I am the man.

©waldo tomosky


Originally posted on The Short Stories of Waldo:

Note to Reader:  This story takes place in a lagoon village near San Juan, Puerto Rico. The village disappeared over sixty-five years ago; but the memories have not.

(A wooden plank that leads from my home to the planks that lead to all other homes.)

It is the church where I pray. It offers me solitude.

I am unaware of things outside of me.


It is my nature-land. I can feel the breezes that bring fresh air.

I can sit in contemplation.


It is the path to my redoubt. It leads to my home for protection.

It leads away from my home for protection.


It is my mode of production. It is my work-bench that no one else owns.

It is my mode of idleness.


It is my strength. It was the strength of my father’s father.

It reeks of corruption.


It is the place of yearly battles…

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What makes me so happy?

I’ll tell you even though you didn’t ask.

I now have my 15th book on AMAZON/KINDLE. (After a short tussle getting them to agree that I really do own the publishing rights to my second most recent one “TURGENEV; In the Pocono Mountains”).

The most recent book is “Tales of Varying Anxiety.”

So what follows are my bragging rights normally found on my Amazon Author page.

(Wow, two rights in one post. And my mother told me that two rights never made a wrong – – – or something like that.)

Bragging Rights by Waldo

Feel free to click on the following images.

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Waldo "Wally" Tomosky:


Originally posted on The Short Stories of Waldo:

The sad man man, for the last time, sobbed uncontrollably as he sat on his log.

It was my turn to speak.


“’Listen, nothing has been lost, nothing has been wasted. Do you realize how many people you have inspired with your thoughts?”

“You moved the teacher and the librarian to write letters of support for your college education.”

“You inspired the museum docents with your blurted-out thoughts.”

“The priests surely must have gone back to the rectory to contemplate the questions that you asked.”

“The Jesuits, although controlled by idealism, learned some truths about their own history.”

“Some of the researchers in the scientific world must be questioning the morality of self-serving grants.”

“Even the little blond girl must realize that she pushed a little too hard to get into your cabin.”

“The people that heard your straw hat, bare footed, street corner rhapsodies would not have listened if…

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THE MAN WHO LOST A THOUGHT: Socrates and Meno (Post XXII)

Waldo "Wally" Tomosky:

Episode Twentytwo

Originally posted on The Short Stories of Waldo:

The sad man surprised me with his story about the dialogue between Socrates and Ion. The Euripedes’ magnetic stone of Heraclea was quite interesting. I decided right then and there that I would have to read about it and decide for myself if the sad man’s insight was correct.

Yet there was one more thing that he wanted to tell me about.

I patiently waited and, once again, he did not disappoint me.


“I wish that Socrates’ insights would have explained it all. However, they did not.”

“I still wanted to search for my original thought. I was driven to search even though my original thought may not have been original. I remained convinced that it was not an inspired one but just as original as I thought. Earlier today, as I sat here under this pine tree, I remembered a discussion that Socrates had with Meno.”

“It was a discussion regarding mimesis…

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THE MAN WHO LOST A THOUGHT: Euripides Stone of Heraclea (Post XXI)

Waldo "Wally" Tomosky:

Episode Twentyone

Originally posted on The Short Stories of Waldo:

The story about Socrates and Ion was finished; or so I thought.

The sad man surprised me. He had a bit more to tell about the magnetic stone.


“Socrates told Ion that the power in Euripides’ magnetic stone of Heraclea was so intense that it could make an iron ring attach itself .”

“Socrates pointed out that the ring that dangled from the magnetic rock could also become inspiring. This could result in another ring dangling from the first ring.”

“The magnetic rock remains the original inspiration. However, the first ring is supremely inspired and has added new depth and meaning to the original idea. This inspiration has modified and added to the original thought. Socrates points out that this allows the first ring to draw another ring to itself.”

“Socrates asks Ion if he has ever seen any of his audience cry or laugh. Ion answers ‘Yes’and then realizes that he has…

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THE MAN WHO LOST A THOUGHT: Socrates and Ion (Post XX)

Waldo "Wally" Tomosky:

Episode Twenty

Originally posted on The Short Stories of Waldo:

The sad man once again started his discussion about his lost thought. He wondered if possibly he should stop thinking about thoughts. He voiced aloud that maybe he was trying too hard. Then again maybe if he gave his brain a rest the lost thought would return. Or was there another method that would allow him to recover his lost thought. Where would he start his quest anew?

He surprised me a bit with where he started.


“Before the advent of religion – – – – – that was the only place to start. But where does religion begin? My life experiences taught me that they began with the life of Christ. Therefore I must start before that. But then there was Judaism, Abraham and Christ’s other predecessors.”

“I decided to start by reading the dialogues conducted by Socrates. Back to the libraries I went. I searched for the clearest…

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THE MAN WHO LOST A THOUGHT: Nihilism? Is it the answer? (Post XIX)

Waldo "Wally" Tomosky:

Episode Nineteen

Originally posted on The Short Stories of Waldo:

Corruption at an institution of research, an institution that supposedly searched for the truth and original ideas, that is what deeply bothered the sad man.

The sad man put his head in his hands and wept bitterly when he finished his story about corruption at the research lab.

Once more I felt ashamed simply because I watched this man in the agony of his lost thought.

As he wept I attempted, in my own mind, to come up with a solution to help him in his plight. The more I thought about it the more I realized that he had done more to help himself than I ever could have imagined.

He had persistently and with great forethought made several attempts to find his lost thought. In light of this I simply sat there on my damp log and waited for the continuance of his story.


“I had read…

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THE MAN WHO LOST A THOUGHT: Corruption Raises its Ugly Head (Post XVIII)

Waldo "Wally" Tomosky:

Episode Eighteen

Originally posted on The Short Stories of Waldo:

“At the end of my second year at the lab I realized that the other research assistants and I were working way to much overtime.

Of course we were not getting paid for the extra hours. We were exempt from the New York’s state laws regarding overtime. I asked the secretary if I could see the grant application and acceptance papers. She was more than pleased to let me peruse them. What I saw surprised me.”

“The grant money more than covered our wages and hours. It also covered EIGHT high grade workstation computers. There was money for leasing hours on a super computer. However we only had SIX workstation computers and WERE NOT allowed to use the supercomputer facilities for our work.

“Where was the money going?”

“Where are the missing computers?”

“I spoke to a few of my research associate friends and was advised not to worry about…

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