Hearts can shatter if beaten down. Souls can be crushed if pounded. Judging others isn’t a right. People should be allowed to live the life they were intended. Why is violence the solution for those who loathe a culture or religion? Special nuances making up each of us are nobody’s business. Differences afford knowledge. Opening our hearts and minds, what a beautiful world…If only. How drab the vision outside our windows would look if we were identical in every minute aspect of our inner and outer selves. Your world, My world, would turn colorless. Respecting and accepting: unoriginal, but words repeated again and again until the narratives and visuals transform. No one deserves to live beneath a cloud of pretense in youth or adulthood. We all should have the freedom to live within the arms of truth. I can only imagine how invisible scars can create hell for the heart. Love should be universal throughout and shouldn’t acquiesce temper. Love should remain the center of everyone. But has kindness and compassion been shoved under the bus? Injustice equals disgust.
Today, I have the pleasure of introducing you to Robbie Cheadle, a wonderful poet and author of children’s books, paranormal historical, and supernatural fantasy. She is also a prolific baker of delicious cakes that she includes in her books and blog posts.I thoroughly enjoyed her poetry book, Behind Closed Doors.
Behind Closed Doors by Robbie Cheadle is a collection of various style poems such as freeform, tanka, haiku, and limerick. Robbie touches on many aspects of life evoking a myriad of emotions. She writes beautifully with strong convictions about marriage, motherhood, dreams, her struggles of working in the corporate world, living in lockdown during the pandemic, and about social issues she finds distressing. Whether her words speak of joy or anguish, they are fiercely passionate.
I personally connected to “Contrasting Colors” because of my strong marriage and relationship with my husband. Robbie creates a lovely metaphorical comparison between her and her husband, showing just how much they complement each other. I really liked the format of this poem. In “He Walks Away” her words paint the picture of her son who is no longer the little boy whose mom’s kisses cured all pain, but a young man who she will need to let go for him to find his way in the world. As an empty nester, my heart felt her bittersweet emotions.
Environmentally, I was drawn to “I saw a fish a-swimming” and “If the polar icecaps doth melt.” Robbie emphasizes the tragic effects of global warming not only on the planet, but on living creatures. She writes with concern and compassion, and some poems are written as twisted limericks bearing nothing but the truth. My stomach felt just as twisted after reading these powerful reminders. But even in trying times, Robbie includes, “Can you see the butterflies?” This poem offers delightful imagery, imploring the reader to dash outside in that very moment to embrace nature’s beauty.
I highly recommend Behind Closed Doors for fans who revel in finding themselves relating to the messages or scenarios, therefore sinking into the deeper meanings.
Thank you for stopping by, and I hope you’ll pick up a copy of Robbie’s book. Simply click on “Buy on Amazon” below the image. You can also visit Robbie at her blog: https://robbiesinspiration.wordpress.com/
An unfamiliar word in her circle she didn’t wish for knowledge, but her circle was not so durable. For now, she was aware of the bitter emotions tailing it like a hungry stray, the hit to self-esteem the “did I say something?” Loneliness puffed up like a proud peacock. She held awareness in the palm of her hand pained to know such a two-syllable word.
When emotions are exhausted again, I find myself at home, alone, closing all windows, then stopped in the middle of the hallway, I scream at a volume that causes the Golden Gate to shudder in acknowledgement. A moment for prayer.
Sometimes, when it is all, finally, too much, I climb into my car, roll the windows up, and somewhere between backing out of the driveway and rounding the first corner I let out a yell that would topple Manhattan. How do you pray?
***Thank you for your compassionate words, thoughts,
and prayers from my prior post. All is better for now,
and we live one day at a time as each day is a gift…
I was talking to my pastor the other day, and she
sent me Margaret Mitchell’s poem. I’ve read this
before, love it, and couldn’t believe how perfectly
it resonated. So I was inspired to write my own version,
but since the idea and wording are similar, I wanted
to cite the author.***
Within the four walls memories stir, the smell of cologne remains poignant, the sound of laughter echoes a favorite tune, tears struggle to be set free.
The closet’s belly stays nearly full after six months’
worth of grieving. Clothes
hang proudly as if he’ll
search for the right shirt
and matching pants for the
day’s activities, all hoping
to be chosen for the outing. Shoes sit tightly for their next walk like dogs eagerly awaiting their master’s call.
Some belongings have
warmed the backs of those
in need. But emotion’s pull is
firm, so to surrender all
feels like a balloon slipping through fingers, escaping
into the big blue, slowly
(It seems like a hundred years ago when I wrote this, when I first became a mom. It was the most wonderful feeling. I felt like I was walking on clouds. I still feel this way even now that my kids are in their twenties. They have been the biggest miracle in my life, along with my husband, and I’m beyond grateful. I hope you enjoy these words
from back when.) 💕