Can I be realjust for a moment?(If I linger I mightstart hating myselfall over again.)I stand before you,a boyfriend, butnot a partner,appealing toyour kinder side. You reach for me,seemingly annoyedbut not meaningto endangerour entanglement.We wallow inour emotions—they seem to formwho we are whentogether. We don’t know how tobe apart. Fromthe startthere was nothingother than us;no …
Life’s Poetry
April is National Poetry Month. Typically, I celebrate by sharing poetry with my blog followers. If ambitious enough, I will be posting a new poem each day for the remainder of April. Below you will find a poem by Tosha Michelle. I discovered the wonderful, brilliant, persuasive poetry of Tosha when she first commented on …
Can I Be Real?
Can I be real? Just for a moment anyway. (Any longer and I may start hating myself all over again.) I stand before you, less than an artist, but hoping to appeal to your kinder side. You reach for me at times in frustration, not meaning to endanger our entanglement. Certainly, we revel in the …
Family: The One True Constant In My Life
So many things change in our lives. Our address. Our income level. Our mood. Our tolerance and acceptance of others. We are in constant flux. Some changes are subtle, while others are profound. Earth shattering. Some of us have to change our last names (as in when we marry). Others have to change their approach …
Writing is an Act of Courage
Here is a recent entry from my journal pages regarding writing as an act of courage. I strongly believe that writing is an act of courage; it’s almost an act of physical courage. You get up, you have this great idea, and you sit down to write it, and almost always what was brilliant before …
What Stops You?
Fear. Now there's a terrible four-letter word. Some will tell you that fear is necessary for survival. How else will you know if something is harmful or fatal to you? I propose the correct word here is caution. Not fear. You see, fear will stop you dead in your tracks. Fear will lie to you. …
Goody Two-Shoes
I behaved myself in school for the most part. I wanted all of my teachers to like me. I learned how to write a sentence, a paragraph, a short story. I practiced diagramming sentences. My compositions were smart, clear and concise. My mind was filled with hundreds of original thoughts. Sometimes it was like a …