New life springs forth And new blooms are forthcoming. . . . It just sort of happened.
Soulshine: My first breath Before Sun's golden rays warm The earth and Moon's silver beams Twinkle under the blanket Of night is Your light. . . . Tanka My thanks to the W for the magical word, and my thanks to Soulshine.
The long, cold winter, With its oppressive darkness Blotting out all signs of life, And joy, and happiness, Until all that once was Vibrant and alive Has become death, malice, and hate, As winter covers and controls the earth Increasing the night in increments And the sorrow by spades Leaving no sign of light or … Continue reading Freedom from Oppression
Counting down the days, The sunrises and the sleeps, From death to new life sprouting And the promises of spring, Freedom buds and blooms. . Tanka
Morning smiles await Waking my soul like the sun After long cold night Image source: pxhere.com, CC0 public domain Haiku
About a month and a half ago someone amazing *cough cough Kim* told me to submit some work to The Mighty to see if they'd pick me up as a contributor. I did. They did. Then I updated my resume and waited anxiously for their editorial staff (very small editorial staff) to do what they … Continue reading The Mighty
A "household of three" is really the only accurate description I could give to what I have before me today. Last week I was nominated for three awards by Mental Health @ Home, whose purpose and mantra is building mental wellness by finding a foundation of strength. For me, being recognized at all as someone … Continue reading A Ménage à Trois of Awards
I woke up in the middle of the night last night driving. Apparently I needed to take a long drive to talk to myself about some things and clear some things up for myself. I do it when I'm awake so it makes sense to do it when I'm asleep, right? So there I lay … Continue reading Braving Rejection… Again
Breathlessly, I wait Hopefully, I'm wondering With dreams and visions dancing Ribbons of color expand With new horizons . Tanka poetry
All of this is all I want today: pure, blissful, quiet and peaceful, solitude. Ode on Solitude By Alexander Pope Happy the man, whose wish and care A few paternal acres bound, Content to breathe his native air, In his own ground. Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread, Whose flocks supply him with … Continue reading Classics: Ode on Solitude