In my dream you held me tight,
but only for a moment’s flight,
then I woke,
you went away,
perhaps to visit another day.
I took your hand and speared your eyes,
connections made that never dies,
then we let go,
but hearts delighted,
perhaps the start of love ignited.
Snippets of Wisdom
Remember, food can’t grow on a hard surface.
So how are you supposed to raise a family
if you don’t get a little soft?
Waves–
Keep coming–
So we have to change with the waves of time,
As the waves approach, we have to react.
Share a story about the furthest you’ve ever traveled from home.
I traveled to Europe twice. The first time was to live for a few years, as I was a military wife. The second time was years later with my dad to visit family. Both times, even though I knew it was temporary, I missed my homeland (USA) very very much. But I don’t regret having made both of these trips. It’s experience to draw from when I write.
Finding the best place to write is up to you. There’s no right or wrong setting. Whether you are writing an essay, poetry, short story, novel, or journal entry doesn’t matter.
Sitting on the beach, looking out at the sunset, and hearing the waves hover over the sand as they reach forward, will open your creative mind.
Imagine sitting and looking out at the mountains pictured above. Such a rich environment filled with so many possibilities abound.
Now this photo could go either way. Perhaps something romantic is brewing. On the other hand, maybe there is sinister intent going on.
Whichever setting you are in writing, take in your environment, work with it, and mold it to suit your creative juices.
While going through her parents’ belongings, and, while cleaning out the attic, Tora comes across a letter her father left her; a letter with a secret that turns her world upside down.
A Magical gem
A dangerous quest and a race against time ups the ante.
A threatening darkness pulls at Tora’s very existence.
Will Kyle be the protector he claims to be? After all, he has his own secrets.
I’ve introduced this gentleman once before, but it bears repeating. Pictured below is my new co-author, K. McMahill. You may have viewed a couple of his writings on this blog over the last two days. Welcome Mr. McMahill. We are very happy and excited to have you here.
by K. McMahill
Here as I sit at the table and see the stares, I already know who is calling me out, not being a road dog, but i know how to be a man.
Life’s a gamble, not to get lost in the cards or the games.
When was the last time you smelled a rose,
when was that last time you smelt that sweet smell of morning dew or grass after a rain? What would you do if there was one more day, like a last sunset on the winter fire, wishing I had one more day?
Being a thousand miles from nowhere
not knowing where I’ll be tomorrow,
waking up to bruises on my memory. Blood stains all around, the smell of iron and sulfur surrounding me a thousand miles from nowhere…
not knowing who I’ll be.
I try not to call out in the night to the dream that calls my name a thousand miles away. Burning of the bodies is the same every time, burying the pain in the old cold heart, while being a thousand miles away. Wishing and hoping for it to rain like hell, dreaming of a bad day of fishing, wishing I had one more day. Sometimes I sleep, sometimes I weep not knowing why, like I’m dead…but…alive trying to ride but end up falling…
The whiskey can’t bring me back, and I can’t drink it away. I pricked my thumb on the rose I was smelling to see if I still bleed…a thousand miles from nowhere.
