Sometimes life throws many mountains at us. Do we stand and look at them then turn away? Or do we latch on to them, climb them, and rejoice when we’ve reached the top?

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Life’s Mountains

Posted in Poetry

Layers by L. M. Montes

Beauty flowed from inner roots,
conveying sweet smelling fruits
of sunshine, smiles, and words,
you frowned on joy
and plucked what did annoy,
but the beauty cascaded onward
kissing cheeks instead of shrinking
with thoughtless worded thinking.
You cut and chopped,
there’s nothing left,
just ground and soil
where beauty once sat,
but did you get the soul inside
where beauty actually does reside,
the layers you may peel,
but beauty you cannot steal.

Posted in Short Stories

My Treasure (Part I)

This story is based on true events. It was written to honor my Grandfather, John Wojahn.

The only thing I could think about on my way up to Tawas was my grandparents. I hadn’t seen either one in the five years I had been in the army overseas, so it will be nice to see them again. But things had changed. Grandpa’s health was growing worse. He had developed prostate cancer and had to have a catheter put in. My mom had to help Grandma take care of him at night, which meant a long drive to Tawas every evening when she got off work; only to turn around the next morning and go back to Saginaw to go to work again. It was hard on her, but she did it because she loved her dad very much. It was hard to see him grow old. He used to be so full of energy and spunk. As a little girl with blond pig tails, I used to play with him all the time. It seemed like only yesterday that I was sitting on his lap taking the tickle test.

“Come here, Jill. Ya didn’t take the test yet,” said Grandpa.

“I don’t want to take the test. It tickles,” I replied.

“You’re eight years old. You can take it. Come on.”


I sat up on his lap and put my arms high above my head. He took his big finger and buzzed my neck under my ears on both sides. When I didn’t giggle, he moved to my arm pits and slowly moved his finger just above them to tease me. Then he sang his usual chant.

“Tweedle dee, tweedle dum, if ya don’t laugh soon, I’ll get you in your tum tum.” The last two words brought his large hand down on my belly, tickling me endlessly.

“Ha ha ha ha, Grandpa stop, ha ha ha ha, that tickles, ha ha ha.”

“He stopped and said, “Ya didn’t pass.”

“Why not?” I asked.

“Cause ya giggled.”

“But I’m s’posed ta giggle, Grandpa, ‘specially when I get tickled.”

He gave me a hug, and I said, “Grandpa, you’ll never die. You’ll live always.”

“Oh, I’ll die someday.”

“No, because God knows how much we love you, so he won’t take you away.”

All he did was smile, a smile that I still think about even now, twenty years later at the age of twenty-eight. As I headed north on U.S. 23 just five miles north of Au Gres, Lake Huron smiled at me on my right. I rolled down the windows on both sides and took in the fresh summer air. The sun danced over the lake, leaving sun crystals sparkling on the water. The sky was ice blue with poufy puffs of clouds floating in the distance. Trees stood commandingly on both sides of the highway, hiding the cottages by the lake, demanding privacy.

As I drew up on Tawas Bay twenty miles later, the beauty of it sang out to me. There were no trees, just turquoise water with one foot waves rolling in toward the blankets of sand on the beach. Boats of all kinds lay buoyant, basking in the sun as it met the water. Now I know why Grandma and Grandpa chose to live up here. They’re so lucky to have this scene to look at every day.

(To Be Continued)

Posted in Social

Get Back Up

It is all too easy to become discouraged when something you are excited about and go for does not go the way you thought it would. The easy thing to do in this case is to sink in that discouragement and to give up. BUT…do you really want to do that? Would it make you feel better to give up? No, it wouldn’t. You would end up feeling worse. Trust me, you don’t want to feel worse. You want to feel better.

So how are you going to feel better? Make a list of ideas (brainstorm) you haven’t tried, and try them. You can also employ the assistance of others. Most people love to help. If it is something you really want bad enough, no amount of discouragement will bring you down or make you quit. Very few people get what they strive for over night. They have to work for it through blood, sweat, and tears. They keep trying, Eventually, they find what works for THEM. Keep in mind also, what works for others might not work for you.

When I was writing my first novel, there were times I gave up. BUT, later I went back to it because I wanted it bad enough. I am so glad I did.

Posted in Short Stories

Time’s Wind (Part IV)

The wind stopped. Time stopped. Everything stopped, except Ashley. A pink mist rose from the dewy grass. She continued peering inside the tent unable to divert her gaze. Her husband’s eyes glazed with a startled smack, frozen in time. The naked woman, also frozen, lay in his arms. A sultry lust hung in her eyes. Then her body shifted, and shook until it became translucent.

Ashley glanced at Josh who was frozen on one knee. His camera aimed, pointing at her husband and the woman on the sleeping bag with him. The pink mist grew thicker. Josh’s body shifted now as well and shook until it too became translucent. His body along with the woman’s stopped shaking but remained translucent.

Ashley’s heart raced. Her brows pinched together. She wanted to turn and run but held fast. Glued to her spot. Words sat like paste in her mouth. A warmth radiated from her left hand. Looking at it now, the pink gemstone that hung on her key ring glowed. It was then she saw it. The mist came from the gemstone, and it wasn’t floating and wafting in haphazard style. No. There was direction to it. It moved in an arc over her husband and the woman, down to his hand……. The ring on his finger, it held the other pink gemstone. The mist flowed to it then out of it and back to the pink gemstone in her hand and on it went.

The woman and Josh shook again then stopped. A wind blew through the tent and their figures blew away like sand and faded way into nothing. The mist too disappeared as did her husband. The empty tent before her grew warm in the afternoon sun, a drop of sweat slid down her right temple. All was silent now except for the intense breathing she couldn’t place. Oh, it was her. Clasping a hand to her chest, she inhaled. Empty it was empty. No. What? She spun to exit the tent and ran full force into her husband.

“What the hell? How? Where?” said Ashley.

“Baby? You look like death. What’s wrong?” asked her husband Tim.

“Where? Where were you just now?”

“What do you mean? I just came from the river. I was fishing.” Tim cocked his head and frowned. “What’s going on? Why are you here?”

“Where’s the woman? And Josh?”

“What woman? And Josh is at home. He wasn’t able to come with me.”

“That’s impossible. I was just at Josh’s and his wife told me he was here with you; that you and he were planning this trip for a long time.”

“Why were over at their house?” asked Tim scratching his head. “You knew all the details of the trip. None of this makes sense.”

Ashley felt the warmth in her hand and looked down at the pink gemstone; its glow fading. She placed her hand on her husband’s chest and patted it a few times. “Yup, you’re real.”


“Tim, I think we need to sit and talk.” They went down to the river, sat down on the bank, took their shoes off and dunked their feet in the cool water. She told him all about what just happened. When she finished, he gave her a gentle kiss on the lips.

“Ashley, I think we need to get rid of these pink gemstones.”

She didn’t need to be told twice. She fully agreed with him. It remained clear everything she saw and experienced had to do with those. So she took her’s off of her key ring and Tim took his ring off his finger. Together they threw them into the river.

“Come on,” said Tim. “Let’s go home.”


“Oh Bill, what’s that in the water?”

Bill turned in the direction Marcy indicated. A pink glow shot up out of the water. He ran into the river to see what it was.


Posted in Poetry

Time with You by L. M. Montes

Your smile sang of sweet
thoughts behind warm eyes,
convey your truths,
but do not speak,
from mind to mind,
I will hear what you think,
whether a gesture or a look,
my heart knows what is linked.

In fields vast with colors dreamy,
you hold my hand
as stars wink sweetly,
mountains stand erect,
looking on as to protect,
the crispness of night air so lingers,
moonlight brushing auras hazy,
among the country grasses breezy.

Breaths of beauty come a knocking,
morning stretches arms of sunbeams,
caressing landscapes as they glide by,
grassy dew drops mist across my nose
as warm winds whistle on tippy toes,
your beating heart rings tides of life,
speaks to my soul all day and night
in passionate whispered voice.

Posted in Poetry

The Walk by L. M. Montes

I walk with you on a warm summer’s day
along a vast mountainside
watching life’s jewels below in the breeze
of the winds hands,
birds rise gracefully and float away,
they wave goodbye as wings clap against clouds.

And you say to me I love you
as you hold my hand so near,
and I say to you I love you
as we hold each other dear.

The trees lie silent in morning’s mist
that outlines the light sea green horizon.
Echoes of yesterday, gently carried
by dewy spring scents,
wafting gracefully across the valley’s vast
expanse lying quietly
beneath the jagged white capped masters.

And you say to me I love you
as you hold my hand so near,
and I say to you I love you
as we hold each other dear.

On winter’s ice with you I sail,
sweetly gliding, smoothly sliding,
the mirror beneath reflects our souls
and tells our story of long ago.
Around around we spin and swirl
with winter’s white diamonds
falling gently as we twirl.

And you say to me I love you
as you hold my hand so near,
and I say to you I love you
as we hold each other dear.

Posted in Writing

Feed Your Creativity

What do we need for nourishment? Food. When we eat food, we feel better. Our body feels sustained. It might also depend on what you eat, but that is neither here nor there. Actually, I’m eating as I write this article (Hahaha, no really). But how do we feed our creativity when we’re trying to think of material for writing a story? I’m not talking about writer’s block. I’m talking about putting some oomph into your story, something that stands out to readers. The answer to this question will vary from individual to individual because we are all different. Below are some ideas on things you can do to wake up your creative mind.

  • Read books.
  • Listen to music (I hear classical music is good for this).
  • Do a craft of some sort.
  • Put a jigsaw puzzle together. You’d be surprised how much this works.
  • Create ideas with some one else. Hey, two heads are better than one.
  • Take a drive somewhere that appeals to your senses.
  • Look at beautiful photos and imagine yourself inside the picture. Use your senses and describe it.
  • Take a stroll through a cemetery.
  • Cook/bake something.
  • Go to the beach.