Dear Friends, it’s hard to believe that this blogging break has turned into a month already. I thought I’d be gone for a couple of weeks. But the truth is that a roofing project has turned into a noisy, costly, and stressful nightmare. And during this time, Copper (our lovable lab) got really sick with gastroenteritis. It’s never easy to watch our furry family members suffer. But he’s finally back to his normal chipper self, off of his bland chicken and rice meals, and onto his regular food. I haven’t felt like cooking, so I’ve cooked more for him than for us!
Then my husband came down with the flu, but luckily, he’s on the mend. And lastly, a few days ago, a heat wave entered into the equation and it’s been disgustingly hot. Most homes in our area don’t have air conditioning like us, but we do have a portable ac unit which helps. Sanctuary defined! Still, this hot spell is unprecedented to continue on until 11 pm next Wednesday. Yuck!
As to writing, I’ve written very little. My mind has been preoccupied, so I hope my muse will return soon. On a more positive note, a couple weeks ago, we went to my nephew’s wedding in the Santa Cruz mountains. We had a blast and it was a gorgeous setting in the company of majestic redwoods.
My sleeping puppy (almost 14 years old)
I have missed you all and will see you later in the month, hopefully. Fingers crossed “this too shall pass.” I am practicing on stillness in my mind because getting upset doesn’t help.
Lastly, for those of you in the U.S., I wish you a SAFE & COOL 4th of July! Hugs to you all, Lauren ❤️💙❤️
My poetry collection will turn one year old later this month, but if you don’t own a copy, I hope you’ll add itto your home library. You’ll find many takeaways about nature, love, and life! 💚🩵💚
If you’ve followed my story, you know that I’ve been dealing with health changes in the last year. And so, the trials commenced figuring out how to manage the pain while maintaining some sense of normalcy in my daily routines. In the beginning, I couldn’t walk long distances. I felt like this basic activity was taken away from me, which was tough to accept. I missed hiking. Well, in February, I had an epidural in my lower back (recommended treatment). Talk about miracles! So, recently, I went on ‘my first hike in the last year’ with my husband. I was able to hike at a moderate clip, and it felt so good to be on the trail again! We went to one of our favorite places, Deer Park, and of course, I had to take photos to document this incredible day where I hiked two miles without pain! I hope you enjoy the pics, and is there ever a time when Nature doesn’t inspire poetry? I don’t think so! These poems are written in Shadorma form!
Forest
Is it so that some believe the forest is not alive? We are all living creatures communicating.
Fascination
Standing tall with architecture to showcase, passersby drop jaws in fascination – one of nature’s gifts.
California Bay
Swinging
Stretch the legs pump with all our might back and forth swinging high while California Bay peeks with utter delight
SmileA new friend
Picnic Table memories
Two buddies slightly underaged ignore signs (no malice) they chug beer and chew the fat, officer stops by.
On the trail again!
Trees
A network of fungi grows deep in the roots, Wood Wide Web is the label given for interconnection.
Thank you for joining us on this memorable hike! I’m still doing well, and it’s good to feel good!
Lastly, today is the final day to vote for Nomination of the Month at Spillwords Press! If you missed it, here is my prior post. “Resilience is Her Saving Grace” is my first fiction short story to be published at Spillwords, so this nomination really means a lot, but especially for the vital message it conveys regarding abusive relationships. I am including the story below if you haven’t read it.
Resilience is Her Saving Grace
The tempest held its vigil on the horizon but continued to fool her. Devotion in his eyes mesmerized her whole being, awakened every pulse in her body. Eyes that spoke the language of love where their future glowed like an apricot dawn. She bestowed her heart permission to be swept into his pools of blue…
And yet, every day she anticipates the sting from his hand – the palm or back, makes no difference. The sting smarts like hell, but her heart secures the brunt of the damage. The slaps begin early each morning if she doesn’t move fast enough to appease his caffeine demands. And it’s ironic that he chose ‘chalet’ for his cell alarm because the calming tone contrasts to his horrific demeanor. After he walks through the front door following a day’s work, if she so much as smiles unknowingly to his disliking, his hand finds her cheek, and she feels the strike of skin even before impact. 5 p.m. on the mantel clock makes her heart pound as though trying to make a getaway.
The house that once was a home mirrors a prison. Cameras keep their eyes on her as he watches from his downtown office. Claustrophobia slithers down her spine. She struggles to quell the panic attacks. And her cell is meant only to reach him or to answer his calls. He tracks her like a wild animal. The ring on her finger stole all contact from the outside world – lost like a loved one’s passing. Grieving has no end, but she doesn’t dare misbehave because the pain is relentless.
She recalls the beautiful moments when his hands would send tingles from her neck down the map of her body. What did I do wrong? consumed her every thought when he transformed from loving husband to beast. Thoughts that became so tangled, she couldn’t ruminate until the truth stared her in the face. Her cheeks grew hot like asphalt in August from the realization that the monster had always existed.
Before the perfect couple whispered those two celebrated words on that breezy afternoon, signifying “You are my forever person,” he wore charm impeccably like a well-pressed dress shirt – his kisses intoxicating as jasmine, gentle like summer rain – respect enfolded in each embrace. Then donning satin and lace, the solitaire sparkled like her heart and soul, but true personas can take cover behind convincing eyes and smiles.
How could she have missed the signs? She ponders over and over.
Time – revelations, decisions, and strategies always take time. Her defense, submission, though she loathes appearing weak, and the agony tests her strength. But the path will wend its way, leading her to a door for a fresh start, caressing her bruised face and her body, his punching bag.
Gazing out the window, she watches courage whirl among the cottony clouds. Around the corner, freedom waits with intensity, as though motioning for her to come closer, excited for her new, safe beginning. She witnesses a glimpse of hope in the pink daisy pushing through the crack in the sidewalk.
But biding her time means life, and staying alive is her objective. She must bleed toughly. Resilience is her saving grace and not meant to be scattered on the floor, anymore. She must be smart to be free.
If you haven’t voted yet, I’m asking for your support, and here is the link to cast your vote: https://spillwords.com/vote/
Thank you again to Dagmara and her team at Spillwords for allowing my writing to reach so many readers. I am grateful beyond words! Not to mention, standing beside the other fabulous nominees! And a Huge Thanks to you who have already voted! Your support means the world to me!
Thanks so much for stopping by my neck of the woods, and I hope you enjoyed the beauty of nature, along with the significance of perseverance!
I am excited to share that my story “Resilience is Her Saving Grace” has been nominated for Publication of the Month by Spillwords Press. In the past, I’ve only submitted poetry, but I stepped out of the box and submitted this fiction short story that is reality for many, so I am thrilled with this nomination! This recognition means the world to me, and it is an honor to be in the company of so many amazing writers. Thank you to Dagmara, her team at Spillwords, and to the readers who offer the most wonderful support of my writing. The email that landed in my inbox last night was…
Dear writers,
We are thrilled to extend our heartfelt congratulations to every one of you! Your exceptional pieces have been nominated due to popular demand for May’s Publication of The Month.
We encourage you to share this link with your family, friends, and supporters, as their votes can make all the difference.
Please note that voting will conclude on 5/29; soon after, we will reveal the well-deserved recipient of this prestigious title.
To vote, kindly register and/or log in to ensure your voice is heard.
The winning publication will be prominently featured on the Spillwords.com sidebar throughout the entire month of June, gaining well-deserved recognition from our global audience.
HERE ARE THE NOMINEES:
The Antiquarian by Steven Elvy
Crescendo by Alan David Gould
Resilience is Her Saving Grace by Lauren Scott
The Road Less Travelled by Vidya Venkataramanan
A Squirrel’s Front Teeth Never Stop Growing by Barbara Harris Leonhard
Sun Over Cadaqués by Kate Aranda Nye
The Dark Night of the Soul by Michael Balner
There Are Angels on Earth by Simona Prilogan
Passages – Last Sailing by Gerry Stefanson
(My) Night-Long Lament by Michelle Ayon Navajas
From The Land of Olives by Nada M. Sobhi
Turning Tables by Nova Loverro
In Memory of Harold Bloom by Jake Sheff
French Fry Etiquette by Judge Burdon
To all the nominees, good luck! Your contributions have enriched our platform, and we deeply appreciate your excellent collaboration and participation.
The tempest held its vigil on the horizon but continued to fool her. Devotion in his eyes mesmerized her whole being, awakened every pulse in her body. Eyes that spoke the language of love where their future glowed like an apricot dawn. She bestowed her heart permission to be swept into his pools of blue…
And yet, every day she anticipates the sting from his hand – the palm or back, makes no difference. The sting smarts like hell, but her heart secures the brunt of the damage. The slaps begin early each morning if she doesn’t move fast enough to appease his caffeine demands. And it’s ironic that he chose ‘chalet’ for his cell alarm because the calming tone contrasts to his horrific demeanor. After he walks through the front door following a day’s work, if she so much as smiles unknowingly to his disliking, his hand finds her cheek, and she feels the strike of skin even before impact. 5 p.m. on the mantel clock makes her heart pound as though trying to make a getaway.
The house that once was a home mirrors a prison. Cameras keep their eyes on her as he watches from his downtown office. Claustrophobia slithers down her spine. She struggles to quell the panic attacks. And her cell is meant only to reach him or to answer his calls. He tracks her like a wild animal. The ring on her finger stole all contact from the outside world – lost like a loved one’s passing. Grieving has no end, but she doesn’t dare misbehave because the pain is relentless.
She recalls the beautiful moments when his hands would send tingles from her neck down the map of her body. What did I do wrong? consumed her every thought when he transformed from loving husband to beast. Thoughts that became so tangled, she couldn’t ruminate until the truth stared her in the face. Her cheeks grew hot like asphalt in August from the realization that the monster had always existed.
Before the perfect couple whispered those two celebrated words on that breezy afternoon, signifying “You are my forever person,” he wore charm impeccably like a well-pressed dress shirt – his kisses intoxicating as jasmine, gentle like summer rain – respect enfolded in each embrace. Then donning satin and lace, the solitaire sparkled like her heart and soul, but true personas can take cover behind convincing eyes and smiles.
How could she have missed the signs? She ponders over and over.
Time – revelations, decisions, and strategies always take time. Her defense, submission, though she loathes appearing weak, and the agony tests her strength. But the path will wend its way, leading her to a door for a fresh start, caressing her bruised face and her body, his punching bag.
Gazing out the window, she watches courage whirl among the cottony clouds. Around the corner, freedom waits with intensity, as though motioning for her to come closer, excited for her new, safe beginning. She witnesses a glimpse of hope in the pink daisy pushing through the crack in the sidewalk.
But biding her time means life, and staying alive is her objective. She must bleed toughly. Resilience is her saving grace and not meant to be scattered on the floor, anymore. She must be smart to be free.
If you’d like, you canvisit the original post of “Resilience is Her Saving Grace” on Spillwords by clicking here.
Thank you for stopping by! Voting will conclude on Wednesday, May 29th, so I would greatly appreciate your vote here: https://spillwords.com/vote/If you don’t have an account, registering is required, and I know one more account and password is a lot to ask of you, but please know that I appreciate your time! And if you already have an account, simply log in and click on the circle next to my story. 💞🙏
I invite you to visit Rebecca’s blog to listen to our conversation on poetry. You can also find our podcast on Spotify, Facebook, SoundCloud, Instagram, and Mastodon.
Thank you so much, and I hope you enjoy the podcast!
Ariel’s Song by Dawn Pisturino is a beautiful and evocative collection of sixty-five poems – a collection that she lovingly dedicates to her daughter whose name is Ariel. The poems were written over a period of three decades touching on topics of love, family, children, death, nature, and the unique. Some rhyme and others are free in their styles from traditional sonnets that invited me to contemplate, to twisted limericks that made me laugh. I had many favorites, but I’m sharing snippets from a few, otherwise, this review would turn into a novel.
Many poems brought a sense of nostalgia. “November” evoked memories of when the season changed into golds, yellows, and reds, the air brought a chill, and my parents were still with us, enjoying family weekends at our cabin – everyone was young, and the future looked brighter than ever.
When November came, We sat around the kitchen table after dark, Telling chilling tales Of ghosts and other phantoms of the night, While wooden logs crackled and burned On the old stone hearth, And a cold wind wrapped its spectral arms Around the ancient wooden cottage…
Dawn writes of her late father in “Rapping” which stirred emotions of my mother-in-law who departed from our world over thirty years ago. Our daughter was born the same year that Diane passed, and one evening from downstairs, we heard footsteps on the carpeted staircase when our little girl was sound asleep in her crib. No one else was in the house with us. So, was it Diane stealing a glance at her first precious grandchild? We imagined it was, and so we believed.
As a nature lover with a grateful heart for each new day “When the Morning Comes” hit home and really should be hung on refrigerators:
When the morning comes, Sun will shine with a different light, Earth will glow in a brand-new way, Moon will dance to a gayer tune, Clouds of pain will float away. Broken hearts will beat again, Empty eyes will see new life, Throats will open up and sing, Hands will break the chains of strife…
“I Hate Snakes” made me laugh out loud, but I can relate so well to the sentiments. Dawn’s vivid imagery summoned me along to explore with her in ‘the jungle’ and her frightening experience with snakes reminded me of my first encounter with a spider, which eventually turned into arachnophobia, causing a never-ending turbulent relationship with the creepy-crawlies.
I HATE SNAKES
I pushed open the creaky door to look inside And froze in shock at what I saw: Slithering, crawling, scaly snakes Formed a moving carpet on the floor, Entwining in an intimate embrace, Lying together in a clump of shimmering bodies, Moving slowly and surely in the rotten shadows. We beat a hasty retreat And never visited our ‘jungle’ again. And that’s why, even today, I HATE SNAKES!
Dawn’s collection of lovely, witty, and occasionally dark poetry, offers a verse and a sense of familiarity for everyone. Highly recommended for all poetry enthusiasts!
Thank you for stopping by, and enjoy your weekend ahead! ❤️
My latest collection of poetry, touching on nature, love, and the mysteries of life that would make a great for any holiday! Click on the image for your copy. Thank you! 💚
It’s time for another happy dance! I’m thrilled to read Dawn’s beautiful review of my book this morning. Below is a little peek…
Poetry Book Review: “Ever So Gently”
BY DAWN PISTURINO ON APRIL 28, 2024
Ever So Gentlyby Lauren Scott (2023). Available on Amazon.com at https://a.co/d/6VKTDPu.
Lauren Scott’s latest poetry collection reflects the inner life of the poet as she seeks to bring serenity and harmony into her world.
In “Messages from the Sea,” her verses paint a vivid portrait of nature, using keen observations and sensitive emotional reactions:
“listen intently inhale, exhale, feel the calm your soul will thank you”
Her signature poem, “Ever So Gently,” reminds us to leave our negative thoughts behind and enjoy the positive things around us:
“Remember, the breeze carries burdens down rivers and across oceans, majestic trees sway with joy, sheltering from shadows, and the light shines even if only a slight glimmer slips through”
Please visit Dawn’s post to read her full review, and if you haven’t met Dawn yet, spend some time at her site to immerse yourself in her evocative and lovely poetry.
Thanks again, Dawn! I’m delighted with your wonderful review! But most importantly, I’m grateful that you enjoyed my poetry and found poems that touched you. ❤️
Thank you for stopping by, and I wish you a wonderful week ahead! ❤️
My latest collection of poetry, touching on nature, love, and the mysteries of life that would make a great for any holiday! Click on the image for your copy. Thank you! 💚
Since it’s Friday, I thought this song would be good to share. It’s one of my all-time favorites. And I wish I felt like dancing, but the truth is…my body and head haven’t been feeling the best lately. My energy has been low and my brain has been foggy. Anything that requires full concentration hasn’t been at the top of my list like working on my children’s book with my nephew, reading, writing book reviews that are long overdue, writing anything, and reading blogs. So, I am very sorry for missing your wonderful blog posts, but I just haven’t been myself. It’s all I can do to write this to update you. And it’s not for sympathy. I just want you to know why I haven’t been around that much. I hope that my energy will return a little more over the weekend because there is so much I want to do! Sigh. Anyway, I leave you with this song, so Dance and enjoy today and your weekend to come. I’m turning off comments, but just know I appreciate you! ❤️
It’s time for me to focus on some things in my personal life, which means a little break from blogging. I’d like to say I’ll be sipping coffee again with hubby in the mountains, but that’s not the case. When life pulls with a firm grip, we get the message.I’m not sure how long this break will last, maybe a week, maybe more. But until I see you again…
Take good care. Keep an open mind, and try to find joy even in tough times. And thank you for spending time in my corner of blogland.
