Polítics: A Pita!

IMG_3904I needed to look at a rainbow this morning; a little depressed because I lost a Tico friend today because of our divergent views on American politics. My ex friend, let’s call him Tom. An American sounding name to ease my distress. He began talking about our American President Donald Trump. Tom disparaged the President greatly and I must say caught me off guard. The more he talked the angrier he became. Calling the President a gangster, a crook, a President that made up crimes by other countries to fill the President’s political agenda.

Of course I did not help any as I feed him criticism of himself to enflame the conversation, because I could not believe what he was saying. Tom did not like the way the President was treating his Latin American friends, the illegal aliens that stream into our country. When I confronted him with the facts that Costa Rica would send me packing if I over stayed my ninety day welcome, he became angrier.

How is it knows more about how it is in America if he has never lived in the USA, visited the USA, or have relatives or friends who live in the USA? When I asked him where he found his information that made him form his hostile attitude towards the USA became more hostile and angry 😡 and began to get personal. You know the examples when someone has a tough time believing in his virtuosity. He began calling me stupid, ignorant and you Americans  believe everything that gangster tells you.

I told him I love my country and I love my new Country of Costa Rica 🇨🇷 and I would never say the things about his government the way he did the USA. He did not seem to me to be a person I wish to call a friend. When his opinion became more important and his view was the only one that mattered; friendship seemed to fall to the wayside. I am sorry about this situation because I thought I was developing a life time friendship. Politics is a pain in the ass; when are we going to learn to live in this world as a unified source of kindness, humanity, and happiness? There is no room for hatred. The sad fact is he never asked for my point of view. Like the twelve step says; God grant me the serenity to accept what cannot be changed, give me the courage to change what I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. Pura Vida! ❣️

Press the link below for the bookstore for my new novel: The Man With a Limp.

Thank you!

Thank You

Lucky is tired and is ready to go home. Lucky wishes to initiate the book and because of Mr. Hines, he knows how it is going to begin; Is freedom of speech gone? Lucky thought. Lucky arrives home, and there is a package on his doorstep. Lucky picks it up and opens it as he walks to his kitchen. It is a garage opener and a note that reads; you have seventy-two hours to find this bomb. It is in a house in San Diego. It has enough explosive power to blow the city into shambles. I will give you three clues to find it in the San Diego Cryer; Starting in tomorrow’s addition of the online paper, one clue a day for three days. Maybe the government can try to spy on me. Retribution! P.S. The garage door opener will open the garage to the bomb. Lucky calls his former boss at Homeland Security and says,
“I guess I am back on the Job, Tom.”
Tom says he will contact the FBI and have them communicate with the online newspaper and check the ads to work at figuring out who is sending them and where the ads are coming.
April 22 is a dismal, rainy day. Lucky asked me to drive to San Diego with him and help him stay focused. Jack grumbles,
“I have no experience with your kind of work.”
“I know Jack, but we seem to be a good team. Use your I pad and check that online newspaper. What was it? The San Diego Cryer? The clues will be in the early morning.”
Jack looks up the Cryer and on the front page is a paragraph from the terrorist Retribution: big black letters, RETRIBUTION! CATCH ME IF U CAN!

Writers Amaze Me

A1E4B5C1-8F48-4688-A6CF-69A9F218F713I have been writing poems, short stories, novels for the past ten years and have come to realize I have a lot to learn about writing. Truly great writers amaze me, the Stephen Kings, Patterson’s, Hemingway’s; how they develop interesting plots and have subplots going at the same time. How do they do it?

I watched a movie the other night that was exciting, never boring; a movie script produced from a famous mystery writer. It had me guessing through the entire movie. Being a movie junky, looking to see what book the story was adapted, it simply amazed me. Does this happen to you? My question to you is how do they come up with these amazing plots and subplots. Like Star Wars, a life time of scripts came from one story and it gets more creative as production becomes more sophisticated. What a wonderful world of writing we live in! Don’t you think?

My hope , you enjoy my stories, poems, and my new novel, through Litfire publications: The Man with a limp, and take the time to email to me and talk to me about my books. You can get to my bookstores at these links below:

Short stories


The first link is to my Xlibris bookstore; I have twelve books of poetry and short Stories. The second link is to my new novel, The Man With a Limp, It is ready for sale  in Softcover and Hardcover and an ebook to follow.  An excerpt from my new novel below, enjoy 😉 Pura Vida:

The security is on the move: checking trash cans and sniffing for
bombs. Off to the right of the restaurant on the sand, two sets of bleachers are set up by the city. The restaurant is full, and a young man with a back-pack sits in the middle of the restaurant. He is a college age boy, blonde hair, blue eyes, and dressed expensively. He puts his backpack on the floor and goes to use the restroom. He is gone several minutes, and I call Lucky. Max comes charging through the door as Lucky follows. Max stops in the middle of the room and sniffs. Suddenly he turns away and charges over a table and attacks a man; knocking him to the floor. The Man pulls out a detonator, and Max bites his hand so hard he twists off two fingers and the man was unable to push the button.
Lucky rushes over to grab the detonator from the man. It is a wireless remote. On the man’s body under his baggy shirt is a vest of C4. It would have killed hundreds of people. The young man comes out of the restroom, and three agents grab his arms and frisk him. Another detonator, the officers handcuff him and find C4 in his backpack. The Agents take him to a unique building set up to interrogate any terrorist at the event. The word is instantly sent out to look for pairs of individuals working in tandem. Lucky tells his people it only takes one explosion to cause enough distraction to set off several more bombs.

An excerpt from Short Stories by Timothy M Nugent below:

Every time I walk into the den, the house seems to come alive with memories. I sit on the handmade leather couch with the push button leg raisers and extend my legs to relax. I had the couch made for my wife, who had cancer and needs the extra comfort the couch affords. I remember coming home late from work, opening the door and Marian would be laying on the sofa instead of being in bed. Marian wanted me to see her; she would be the first thing I saw when I came home. After she had died; I would envision Marian laying on the couch as I opened the entrance to the den. Corina is taking a shower after our nine-hour motorcycle trip from Las Vegas, Nevada. As Corina walks into the room, she adds a picture of the two of us on the blue full dress Harley and hangs it on the wall above the TV. It adds a dimension of ownership for Corina. Makes her feel she is part of the home. I tell her I like it and she smiles “you think Marian would mind?” Corina says. “No, I believe she is smiling. Happily, you are comfortable in our home,” I say. “Our home, It has a nice ring, doesn’t Honey,?” Corina says. “Yes, it does,” I say.

I hope you give my books a chance on a rainy afternoon or on vacation in Hawaii as you seat on the beach under a large umbrella, shading yourself from the hot sun, drinking umbrella drinks, reading one of my books, Thank you for your attention.

Timothy M Nugent

Life; Memories Lost

IMG_3198Life is the hazy setting of the sun. Just like the sun disappears behind beautiful mountain landscapes so does memories. A home in Utah succumbs to old age and pipes burst. Left alone to the destruction of time and visited after a four months absence; the residue of destruction:sitting water, mold and mildew collapse the ceiling and it shows its ugly path of loss.

Fifty years of love and affection are gone; destroyed forever, those first love letters you sent your girlfriend at the age of seventeen. Those precious words you wrote in a note bestowing your love of your wife of forty-two years; gone in a flash to the basement of your mind. Your wife was a collector of memories, a sorceress Of sentimentality. Kept neatly away in an old chest, laying on the bedroom floor in front of our bed; School yearbooks of our high school years with passages neatly enscribed below pictures. A history of my sport years put in scrap books,meticulously recorded in scrapbooks made by my ingenious young girlfriend. Gone are the nights by the fireplace looking through our memorabilia reminiscing about our misspent youth.

A nineteen-thirty-eight Philco Floor Radio, my lovely wife found at a Farrell’s Ice Cream Parlor is lost to water damage. She found it on a window display for sale for seventy -five dollars; it looked old, tarnished, the speaker was torn, the cover  ripped out of the front and the vacuum tubes were bad. My wife took it to our neighbor, a retired house painter who built miniature houses as a hobby. He replaced the old electrical parts with original vacuum tubes, wires, etc. and produced a beautiful radio with its original police radio design. Meticulously varnished, sanded and varnished again and made anew, refurbished nineteen-thirty-eight Philco floor radio  we kepted for forty odd years, gone in nature’s wrath.

I mourned the loss of my memories and decided to begin new memories and not worry about a loss of memories. Life must go on, to be enjoyed, not saddened on memories lost. My old collection of black vinyl is gone: A nineteen-sixty-four Beatles album with the singers autographs are lost, but I have their music on this I pad. I remember playing our record player for hours as I hugged my young wife of forty some odd years and I smile realizing what a great life we had together. Not all is lost, is it? Memories will always remain a constant pleasure. Pura Vida! Press the link below for my bookstore:


i never get tired of writing about you
remembering those beautiful baby blues
or your perfectly short cut hair
and your sparkling angry stare
when you gave me an indignant dare

or how you would laugh when i wiggled my ears
or how you cheered during my football years
how you showed patience during my tough times
your love was never hard to find
your love makes me strong
it gives me strength when things go wrong

i work at living up to your life
after all is said and done
you were my perfect wife
i was lucky you were the one

thank you for picking me.”

Excerpt From
Odes to Life and Love
Timothy M. Nugent
This material may be protected by copyright.


What makes you 😃

Press link below for book store:


IMG_4192What makes you happy?  As I begin to get ready to travel to the USA, I look at my three girls, Corina , my soulmate, LaLa and LuLu, my faithful dogs 🐕, unless there is a treat involved, I find the realization that for the first time I will miss them. That is what life change is all about; Costa Rica does that to you. Calm beaches, friendly people and good friends. Having a project can be difficult at times. Small arguments over spending our hard earned retirement money on the building and sacrificing our time to the new adventure.

Always our dogs are warming and loving, helping Corina and I stop and think of what we have together. I sit at our property yesterday and contemplate our beautiful surroundings. We will have many enjoyable days, years , hours at our new home over looking Lake Arenal in Quanacaste, Costa Rica.

We will drink natural juices, Margaritas at times and lay in our hammock made for two. I am leaving for Nevada and California for twenty-two days to visit old friends and family. I need to go to Crocket, California for my taxes. Karol has done my taxes for thirty years; why change now?

I sit in my duplex thinking of my girls in Costa Rica and I can not help but feel happy that we will be together soon. I can feel their warmth as we huddle together in bed, being awaken by an occasional scratching by one of the dogs. I miss watching Corina as she talks to the dogs and LuLu props up a listening ear and makes me laugh. I caught a cold on the plan and slept a great deal last night. Eating too much with too many beers helped me sleep all night. My brother and I celebrating my return after a one year absence. Today I travel to visit Rob and Lisa, close in laws who kept in touch after my wife passed away.

Then onward to Northern CAlifornia and taxes and visits to friends in Anthioch, Pittsburg, and Rocklyn California. I am sure we will reminisce about old times and have many questions asked to me about our property adventure. I sit here smiling enjoying the memory of good friends. Are your fortunate to have friends from your old neighborhood? I will end my trip back in Las Vegas at my duplex. My brother Al and I will celebrate our Irish heritage on St Patrick’s day, March 17th. I am sure we will drink a green beer and eat corn beef and cabbage and have a great time, you do the same, Pura Vida!

Lala and Lulu and the Armadillo

The Armadillo was on the lawn
Minding his own business
Having a stretch and yawn
Enjoying the bright morning sun

When suddenly who should appear
Lala and Lulu following from the rear
Two rambunctious little dogs
Eager to tag along

Barking and pestering from inches away
Biting at the armadillo’s tail asking him to play
Slowly, cautiously he starts to move
Lala swats at his legs,he turns to show he disapproves

Then he darts to the bushes to hide
Vanishing before their eyes
Lala on one side, Lulu the other
Search the bush for their new found brother

Frantically they search to find their friend
Only to realize their play has come to an end
Mister Armadillo escaped through the fence
Using a very smart defense

“He had scurried down to end through a hole
Too small for the dogs to follow
Bark,bark they would call out
Asking the armadillo to turn about

He would turn up his tail
Scurry away as the dogs continue to wail
Lala and Lulu would run up and down the fence
Until all their energy had been dispensed

Slowly they trot up the driveway
Still peeking at the fence along the way
Hoping to take one more peek
For the friend they wish to keep”

Excerpt From
Poems from Costa Rica
Timothy Nugent
This material may be protected by copyright.

The Art of Impression

img_3198How do you convey an idea to your readers? How do you imprint an Idea in the minds of your reader in order to keep them interested with your copy? I like to call it impression of thought. How many descriptive words, adjectives is necessary to convey a sunset, for example. Is the picture above  out of focus or is nature out of focus? Is the sun fading into the darkness?

I work at making an imprint in your mind, such as the water, crystal blue, cascading against the  green moss on the river rock causing an emerald effect on the rainbow waters as the sun glitters on the river’s flow. Is it too much or do you feel the mist of the river water splashing on the moss covered river rock? Are you present on the rivers edge with your toes covered in cool river water?

My goal in writing poetry is to have the reader think of a message I wish to convey or an Idea the reader wishes to Express or interpret. In my short Stories and Novels; I hope the reader is actively involved in the story, even if it is a “You got to be kidding me”. When you read, do you feel you are part of the saga?

In my novel, The Man with a Limp; I want the reader to see a compassionate, giving warrior with a passion for justice. I hope 🤞 I convey this message as you read the book. I hope you do not want to put the book down until You finish reading the entire book. Pura Vida and happy reading 📖.


Suddenly there is a massive explosion out on the street. A young boy exploded himself by accident. He walked into a trash bin in an alley and accidentally killed himself and his partner as they tried to exit the alley. What is happening here? Lucky thinks to himself. This terrorism is not Isis; then who is it? Who would want to cause domestic violence? Lucky calls the interrogation building and gives them a heads up that he believes it is domestic terrorism. Homeland does a great job and foils plots in Capitola and Santa Cruz. The event goes on without a hitch, but it will take a few days to identify the terrorist. No one is talking, but background checks are beginning. The Federal Bureau of Investigation and Homeland Security in a team effort raid the homes of Albert Conrad, Stephen Imes, and Mathew Hines. Respected students from well to do families and find bomb-making supplies and equipment. They formed a new group called LACE. LIBERATION AGAINST COUNTER-ESPIONAGE, their parents were arrested and jailed for crimes against the Government. They were arrested because of the monitoring on their Facebook page by the FBI. The Patriot Act allows the government to spy on their people. The parents found that the government wanted to spy on Facebook and random emails and they voiced vehemently about the intrusion of their privacy. They were arrested for using words such as uprising, force, change in government and violent overthrow of the government if necessary to protect our way of life. Reading the constitution and their patriotic rights was a mistake because the parents are in jail for two years now. Their bank accounts were frozen and their children forced out of their parent’s homes. Now in desperation, they fought back. Lucky closes out this chapter in Homeland Security wondering if in the future we can prevent this kind of terrorism. Because of the actions he took to save lives, Lucky is given a Medal of Honor by the Governor of California; the President of the United States gives him the Medal of Honor: the Congressional Medal of Honor for his work. He is on Time Magazine’s cover. He decides to walk away from Homeland Security because he is saddened by the events of the World Triathlon of 2017. His quote is on the front cover: ” I believe great care must be shown in the administration of the Patriot Act. So undue harm is not inflicted on the American people.” Lucky and Max frequent my restaurant. He would become a, best selling author and travel the world doing seminars on counter-terrorism.

Excerpt from The Man With A Limp.


Violence in our World:App Games

Pura Vida
The Heart is the doorway to the soul

I like to play Words With Friends, a free app I bought through my App Store, but it comes with ads of various types. Hence, the Nugent Coat of Arms as my picture today. Can you tell me why our human nature is prone to violence? Every ad I receive is about senseless battles of grunt warfare. Fifty soldiers annihilated by two hundred and so on to high number of casualties. Robot warfare blowing up everything in sight. Can you tell me why this is so important?

I remember Vietnam, my friends coming home with shattered minds, missing limbs,blind, all sorts of terrible things came out of that war the soldiers never had control. My friends with cancer because of Agent Orange. I feel fortunate that I was smart enough to join the United States Air Force and never went to war. I realize how terrible war is, yet we promote it in our daily lives in our television shows, computer toys, smart phone ads and movies. I promote violence as a way to justice in my new novels; which makes me wonder about myself. Do I enjoy a good war flick or novel? Yes, does that mean I am a sick individual who promotes violence  and then complains about the mass killings in our recent society?

I like the hero versus evil scenario, but do our senseless wargames promote the Illness plaguing our society today? I have owned guns and believe we have the right to potect ourselves, but how do you protect your family against the sick who watches senseless killing games and shows that have no meaning of right or wrong? That is the conundrum! I can eliminate ads on my word game by paying the monthly fee or ignore them. Every week I read about a mass killing in a mall, high school or event. We are truly a sick society and need to protect our selves. I feel sorry for families who raise kids in this crazy 😜 world. How do they protect their kids from the onslaught of violence on our airwaves?

I will continue to play Words With Friends because of the camaraderie on the chat pages  and the challenge of besting my competitors with words. It is a nonviolent game.


Pura Vida

Body and Soul
She gave herself to you body and soul
When you felt small she made you whole
Her smile would break anyones ice
She was truly that nice

Helping others was a way of life

She did not like a good fight
Or giving one an emotional blow
It was hard for her to say no
She gave herself to you body and soul”

Excerpt From
Odes to Life and Love
Timothy M. Nugent
This material may be protected by copyright.


How do you write?

LuLu &LaLa

Questioning eyes 👀 wish to know, how do you prepare your writing? Novels, short stories or poetry, what gets the mind rolling on ideas? Do you write an outline on your book idea and add chapters, lines , paragraphs? How do you get your writing juices moving in the right direction. Are your books based on your experiences or what happens on the evening news that prompts a Detective 🕵️‍♀️ story or a spy thriller.

My poetry never uses an outline and is stimulated by emotion. I wrote my first three poetry books around the life and death of my wife and the woman I met a year after my wife’s death. I rode my Harley around the country working at healing a broken heart 💔. I wrote a book of short stories which had a basis in my childhood. I would write an outline on some of the stories, but on many stories my mind flowed with ideas and exaggerations to make the stories come alive.

I have prepared four novels; I started my first Novel, The Man With A Limp, with an outline which I changed constantly. I wanted to humanize a harden Iraqi war hero and constantly changed my format. In some chapters I discarded the outline completely because I liked the flow of the story that was popping out of my imagination. On my second novel, The Chameleon, I did not use an outline except for the villains of the book. I flowed from my first book to this next chapter in Lucky McLaughlins life as the protagonist. I enjoyed writing about his friends and family as he searched out evil in the world. Charlie is my third Novel of Lucky McLaughlin and his family. Charlie is his athletic daughter who wishes to continue her aging Father’s work. I use the internet to help research stories and keep me from flowing to far off base, I was hoping to make the stories sound real life and credible. My last Novel I am writing is about Lucky McLaughlin’s Father. It is called Brooks Mc Laughlin, the creator of the Chameleon.

This story has a basic outline that is the villains in each chapter mixed in with the trama and exhilaration of everyday life. Much of my books fly by the outlines because I get distracted with the characters and I wish to expand on them. Does this happen to you in an effort to write a compelling story? Wikipedia has been a great source for my stories and u tube videos giving historic information to add to some stories. I do not spend hours on research; I grasp an Idea and flow with what I have learned.

How about you? How do you write your stories? I have Published my one Novel and will publish my second Novel in a couple months. Unfortunately, money has it’s restraints and the process for me is slow, but I enjoy writing ✍️. Pura Vida!


It is a cold winter morning in Santa Cruz, California. It is windy, rainy and no one is at the beach. A lone man, about twenty-four years old is walking with a six-foot bamboo walking stick. He is wearing a rain poncho, a rain hat, and rubber boots. He has thick long black hair down to his shoulders and a massive long black beard hanging down to the middle of his chest. He walks with a limp on the left side. His hand is curled up, and his left arm hangs down, appearing to be a useless appendage. He is smiling; it is obvious he likes to walk in the rain. With him, as he walks is a large German Shepard who has scars on its face and a large scar on his chest. I own a restaurant on the beach called “The Santa Cruz Experience.” It is an inexpensive diner with the usual Santa Cruz decor: surfboards and surfing pictures hang on the walls and a Harley Davidson motorcycle setting inside to the right, by the front door. I like to ride. My name is Jack.