Smiling Inside

bou_past.jpgPastorale, François Boucher, 1761


Smiling Inside

We talk

Not often, nor enough

But the moment your voice reaches my ear

My body responds as if cold water has trickled down my back; I shiver

Tiny threads of excitement spread across my skin, prickling

Does breath suspend?

For mine does in that moment…that moment of recognition that it is you

Your voice humming my soul

sharing your thoughts, your day

sharing a piece of you, with me.

Lucky am I,

the girl with no entitlement, no claim

to bask…no, revel in your being,

your attention to just me

talking…just talking

Little do you know,

the kindness you give,

the pure joy that lights me up inside

and I am happy



Slow Dancing (Guest Post)

It is with great pleasure I introduce to you D.B. Colson. A fellow poet with whom I am have fallen madly in love with his beautiful poetry. He is a man of great talent and with honor, he has allowed me to share it with you.

8140ac8bc37903d9743e85b0d910d568.jpg(Dancing Couple, Jack Vettriano, 1991)


Slow Dancing

In one another’s embrace

moving with each other

to the rhythm of

Fitzgerald and Bennett


Absorbed in sensation,

discovery and arousal,

neither future or past,

An exquisite memory


With many years since

and some idealization,

Something lost, grieved,

but not surrendered.


Yes, and most precarious

you remember me.

Own Your Truth


(Still life of Writing, William Harnett, 1877)

Happy New Year! Or so you hope. But let’s face it. A New Year holds a lot of expectations that none of us will ever see fulfilled. New Year’s Day is just another day. Just another morning sunrise. Just another day to get out of bed. Just another cup of coffee. You aren’t any different than you were on December 31st.

But what does that mean? Are you not important? That you shouldn’t set goals to be better? No, but what should your real expectations be?

Own your truth.

Owning your truth means to take pride in who you are and what you do with no excuses or placed expectation of failure. I do that. I do that a lot. I need to stop.

I have written three novels, a collection of poems, have an ongoing blog, became an reoccurring editor for WFWA Industry News, had a poem and a review published, queried hundreds of agents and publishers, attended courses and seminars, joined writing groups, and become a full fledged writer in a matter of years. I am a writer! But I always, yes ALWAYS, say it with a disclaimer, “But my books aren’t published yet.” I invariably disclaim that I am a writer. I am not owning it. And when I don’t own it, my writing becomes insignificant. I devalue myself. My work. My sweat, blood, effort, and talent. But that isn’t the truth. And thus, I need to own the truth. I need to own up, claim my value, and stand proud…I am a writer!!!

To own it means I don’t have to make excuses for writing. I don’t have to fit it in my already busy schedule, or claim that I have “done nothing” all day when in truth I sat for hours with my fingers on the keys and my mind churning. To own my truth, as a writer, means what I do holds value.

When something holds value, you make time for it. (Tweet this)

I don’t need to set goals to write 10 minutes a day, finish my novel, or get published. Those are just things on a to-do list. But they aren’t real life changing resolutions. The bigger pictures is to claim my truth and see my life for what it is…valuable. To own my truth gives me the goal of living an extraordinary life. And that is a resolution that I can’t fail!

What is your truth?

It is a new year and there isn’t a place you can’t read about setting goals and grabbing what you really want out of life. Resolutions are terrific in theory, but they will most likely fade. They invariably always do. Setting goals is noble. But it also sets you up for failure, even limits the possibilities. You cannot set one goal or have any expectations of yourself if you don’t look yourself in the mirror and own the truth of who you are and the extraordinary life you really do have. Make each day fulfilling that goal.

Own it. Do it. Be it. 

Happy New Year and thank you for your support and reading my blog! I look forward to creating more writing that inspires you.




Set Before You

the-lovers-by-william-powell-frith-18551.jpg(The Lovers, William Powell Frith, 1855)


Set Before You

How many times do you look

but don’t see

Sentiments flowing like water

Expressing all that clutters my mind; my heart

but don’t hear

Written in solidness, ink dried, no denial or obfuscating

but don’t understand

It is put out there, no, thrown out there

As if it has a mind of its own; no willpower to be elusive

Nothing lies within the shadows

All truths set forth

Like sunlight so bright

It blinds; blurring what is right before you

Quiet in my reverie, but not illusive

Grasp, take what has always been yours

Through the veil of propriety

Not given by man, but deemed by our souls

I shall not deny you




Hear Me


(On the Seashore, George Elgar Hicks, 1879)

Hear Me

You don’t listen,

You don’t listen,

You don’t listen!

The volume of my shadowed self

Expressing all that I am, all that need

Blocked, distorted, pushed away

You don’t listen

I plea, “Hear me!”

Bearing all of me

My soul, my heart, my guttural longings

You don’t listen

Held in contempt

Having to live up to those I am not

Those you value…over me

You do not listen

Your perception clouded in imagery

Wanting someone, something that does not exist

Never good enough

You do not listen

Unending tears; bleeding of the heart

Melancholia, disconsolate

Woeful of what is left of my life

You do not listen

You do not listen

You do not listen!

Revelations of Truth


(Blue Nude, Pablo Picasso, 1902)


Revelations of Truth

I am already a woman of failure

Less than worthy to be admired

The benefactress of ridicule…the butt of jokes as if it is fair game

My life…my mistakes, my blunders, my missteps,

(My losses, my heartaches, my despair)

I cannot change what I have been, my life of love so failed

On display for commentary by all…by you

Your kindness towards me a mere charade of your perception

A pretense of your mockery

But to fail as a mother…

The one thing you hold sacred


I am not ready to see that judgment in your eyes

You won’t be able not to

It will come so naturally you will wonder how you ever saw me differently before


I am not ready for the finger pointing

The talks behind my back

The judgements…the judgments, always the judgments

As if I have not pointed my own finger at the woman in the mirror…stared at the woman in pathetic examination

As if my head has not rattled the million thoughts of my failures; my  own vilification

As if I have not been my own court of condemnation; flogging my soul with damnation


Not now

I am not ready to reveal my weakest part

I am not strong enough

Not yet…not to you