Blue sky whispers words of tranquility Each syllable falls like a leaf in autumn Open your hands to the wisdom, cold-shoulder the noise whirling around, causing a bottleneck of worry Let the sun’s rays seep into your soul flowing gently on its journey, pulling you from edges of despair Let the warmth calm the chill that strives to take possession
If your heart is broken, take time in picking up the pieces just tap into the strength deep inside – the jagged edges are dull to your skin, you’ve been cut before so now you’re tough, the sight of red doesn’t shock you into paralysis
Each fragment tells your story, and you matter The pieces in all their perfect imperfection will fit perfectly again
Remember to follow the blue keep your eyes looking upward because the blue holds hope, and moving forward is impossible without even a glimmer…
This positive potato is a tiny little guy with a big smile and round, black eyes. Have you seen him before around town or in a store? On a spring day is when we met, a moment I’ll never forget. He lifts spirits if they are low making things bright and all aglow. He’s a simple potato without complications, and he never asks for any explanations. I actually enjoy his company, his jolly, friendly vibe – better than any med a doctor would prescribe!
I am thrilled to share with you that my poem, “I Am From” is published on Spillwords Press today! Thank you to Dagmara and her team for accepting my recent submission. It is always a great honor to have my writing featured on her wonderful platform, and to be in the company of so many talented authors, some of whom I consider friends here in blogland.
You may recall my prior post, but if not, here’s a little back story…”I Am From” was inspired by Vicki’s poem that intrigued me. Please pop over to her lovely sight for inspiration: https://victoriaponders.com/2025/04/28/echoes/. She was originally inspired by Lori’s post: https://loripohlmanwriter.com/2025/04/25/polished-maple-tables/in which I also visited, feeling the same rush of inspiration. They both spotlighted the poem “Where I’m From” by George Ella Lyon. And my version is:
I Am From
I am from my mom’s emotions that had a mind of their own so wild at times emulating a summer storm I am from my dad’s humor where smiles bloomed but his temper too in my less patient moods
I am from flower petals I did not plant Mom’s were nurtured – my thumbs weren’t green yet the petals’ beauty is always seen I am from butter, sugar (granulated and brown), vanilla, baking powder and soda, and nuts, yes, sometimes this is the case, and chocolate chips in their tantalizing ways
I am from the moon in her mystery The sun in his radiance The lake in its serenity…
You can read the full poem here,and please don’t leave without giving it a ❤️. You only need to log in if you’d like to leave a comment. Either way,I’d appreciate your support!
Thanks again to Dagmara K. and her team, and thanks to you for stopping by! I hope to see you at Spillwords! ❤️
As I mentioned in my last post, I’m focusing on my book to honor Copper, our senior puppy who received angel wings in March, while also trying to visit you. This has been my mindset for the week, but I’m pulling my hair out because of glitches. Third time’s a charm, they say, and Life is NOT about throwing in the towel!
Anyway, one of the posts I had the pleasure of visiting was Vicki’s, and it truly intrigued me. Please pop over to her lovely sight for inspiration and enlightenment: https://victoriaponders.com/2025/04/28/echoes/. She was originally inspired by Lori’s post: https://loripohlmanwriter.com/2025/04/25/polished-maple-tables/in which I also visited, feeling the same rush of inspiration. They both spotlighted the following poem and the concept of writing our own version:
Where I’m From By George Ella Lyon
I am from clothespins, from Clorox and carbon-tetrachloride. I am from the dirt under the back porch. (Black, glistening it tasted like beets.) I am from the forsythia bush, the Dutch elm whose long gone limbs I remember as if they were my own. I am from fudge and eyeglasses, from Imogene and Alafair. I’m from the know-it -alls and the pass -it -ons, from perk up and pipe down. I’m from He restoreth my soul with cottonball lamb and ten verses I can say myself. I’m from Artemus and Billie’s Branch, fried corn and strong coffee. From the finger my grandfather lost to the auger the eye my father shut to keep his sight. Under my bed was a dress box spilling old pictures. a sift of lost faces to drift beneath my dreams. I am from those moments — snapped before I budded — leaf-fall from the family tree
To read more information and for helpful tools in writing your poem, please visit Vicki and Lori’s wonderful posts. And now, I offer you my version. I didn’t use Lori’s template, but I ran with the concept. Thoughts appeared one after the other, so mine is a bit lengthy, but I don’t feel like cutting anything out just yet. Subtle rhymes also slid their way in, and I’m unsure if they were supposed to. Nonetheless…
I am from
I am from my mom’s emotions that had a mind of their own so wild at times emulating a summer storm I am from my dad’s humor where smiles bloomed but his temper too in my less patient moods
I am from flower petals I did not plant Mom’s were nurtured – my thumbs weren’t green yet the petals’ beauty is always seen I am from butter, sugar (granulated and brown), vanilla, baking powder and soda, and nuts, yes, sometimes this is the case, and chocolate chips in their tantalizing ways
I am from the moon in her mystery The sun in his radiance The lake in its serenity
I am from the well-liked and the shunned the self-doubt lodged on my shoulders the redwoods standing tall I am from planned and spontaneity clarity and ambiguity
I am from the Big Bear cabin on the corner from laps and splashes in Orange County pools I am from “When you have children, you’ll understand” I am from two sanctuaries for finding God to discovering faith near mountains and sand
I am from me unique, quirky, strong, kind, a used-to-be people-pleaser the third of three daughters I am from knowledge still pouring in like a flood of surging waters I am from gratitude for every little blessing from those I love, from being loved I am.
Hello Everyone, we had a wonderful weekend away and I’ll share some photos later. But today, I want to thank Manuela Timofte, Editor of Gobblers at Masticadores, for publishing my poem “In Darkness there is Light.” A wonderful surprise on this first day of April. ❤️
Nighttime falls inside the doors of the beautiful hotel an experience to tuck away in my memory box Many sprint here and there following their agendas in the midst of mild chaos – some scrambling from point A to point B wondering what happens next or maybe they’ll discover a cozy spot like mine with a small, round table and chair in my private slice of darkness
An unexpected power outage doesn’t stop me Who doesn’t wish for a little light, but functioning without it… bring on the adventure!
As I look around in blackness and listen, words flutter nearby…
You can read the full poem by clicking on the link below:
I hope you’ll consider following Gobblers at Masticadores to immerse yourself into evocative worlds of poetry. And if you missed my original post of this poem, you can read it here.
Thanks for stopping by, and I wish you a great day and joyful new month! 💖
Moods that can’t seem to find the light through the darkest shadows can be lifted with blooms of bright yellow like a smile sprinkling cheer into a day washed out in beige.
I finally finished the last 5-star reviews of two incredible books. I hope you enjoy!
To purchase your copy, click on Buy on Amazon.
Whenever I immerse myself in a book by Diana Peach, I always fall deeply into the exciting worlds and believable characters. She is the author who converted me years ago into reading fantasy. Her beautiful prose parallels with diving into a C. S. Lewis classic. Tale of the Seasons’ Weaver is an enchanting and spellbinding story full of remarkable imagination. I was easily drawn into the extraordinary imagery from the first chapter. One sample of Peach’s magical writing is, “The sky joined into a conspiracy with the wind and thickened with charcoal clouds that piled on each other’s back.”
Erith, the protagonist, resides between two worlds. She is half mortal human and half possessing charmed blood. Because of these qualities, she feels as if she doesn’t belong in either world. But the complication lies with her mother bestowing her the title of seasons’ weaver. Erith must weave her first tapestry ode to spring. However, self-doubt clings to her like static electricity, and she remains hesitant to use her magical powers. Not to mention, she faces a multitude of obstacles. A massive hindrance being the Winter King who takes revenge on the human race. He suppresses the season of spring because of human hunters who harmed the enchanted forest.
The reader joins Erith on her quest, meeting a variety of magical creatures, some better to avoid such as water demons in the night, while others that fascinate like galiwhigs. Many entertaining characters, both good and evil, play a significant role in her growth, and Peach even adds a touch of romance to entice.
Will Erith be able to push aside her self-doubt in order to prevent the demise of all humans? Will the four seasons remain everlasting? I encourage you to discover the answers by reading this tale that I highly recommend!
To purchase your copy, click on image.
Reading The Garden of Love by Manuela Timofte is like sitting by a waterfall, allowing its ballad to calm your mind. My initial thought after the first few pages was, I need this now. The U.S. is spinning out of control in a myriad of ways. The world is doing the same. So, reading Timofte’s book was like enjoying one spectacular exhale, releasing all stress.
In the foreword she writes, “In our real garden, we may prefer certain flowers and try to eradicate certain weeds, but the flowers and weeds inside us define us as people and the life we lead.” Her hope with this book is that “we find the flowers we like, and the lines that resonate with us, and that they give us color, fragrance, understanding, and lots of love.” I discovered the flowers, the lines, I saw the color, inhaled the fragrance, realized understanding, and felt the love.
Timofte reminds us that we are all diverse, not only physically, but also in thoughts, emotions, and experiences. And no matter what, “we are brought here on earth to learn the lessons of love…true happiness does not lie in a job, money, religion, or political placards. It was and is all the time within us.”
There is so much of what she writes that I know in mind and heart but let slip aside as I trudge through my own agenda. It takes little effort to forget about love, and that we can’t take money and possessions with us when we leave this beautiful planet. I, too, am reminded that while some of these make life more exciting and comfortable, the bottom line is to live life knowing that our stay here on earth is temporary, but to leave without regrets – a mission that can be difficult to implement. So, I encourage you to grab a copy and a cup of tea or your preferred beverage and allow yourself that one spectacular exhale as you turn the pages. Highly recommended!
I’m also sharing a poem for you to ponder when you leave here:
Your Link
The link you grasp may be small But still, you will not fall With the firmest grip, hold on tight It’s not about fight or flight Just seizing the chain is vital No one is above you or entitled Whether the link is large or small Hold your head up high; stand tall! We all matter, the bottom line Our beliefs, emotions, goals in life We all matter of equal degree This is truth…not hyperbole!
I had a blast at the San Francisco Writers Conference! For my first time attending and on a scale from 1-10, my experience was a 15! I came home with an abundance of information to digest, organize, and implement, and I made some great friends! The conference was held at The Hyatt Regency, which is a beautiful hotel with incredible architecture, right across from the Ferry Building.
What’s funny is I thought I’d have time to read in my room and write in my journal. But the book and journal remained in my suitcase fully ignored, yet unintentionally. Along with attending self-publishing, poetry, and business tracks, I was in the company of amazing women authors either lunching, wine-ing, or enjoying good conversation and laughter over a delicious dinner. I made 3 consultation appointments for pitching another children’s book to meet with an agent, editor, and publisher, and received valuable feedback. Once I do final editing, I was asked to send my manuscript in, which was a boost of encouragement!
By the time I returned to my room each evening, I was exhausted, falling into my comfy king bed and sliding immediately into a much-needed slumber.
I was also thrilled to have my books, Ever So Gently and Cora’s Quest, on display in the onsite bookstore, and to sell a copy of each! By the way, how could I pass up more books to buy? I came home with six! Obviously, I’ll have to interrupt life to read, read, read! 😁
Below are more photos that I hope you enjoy…
If the planets align, I plan to attend next year! Such a rich experience!
I hope you are well, and I look forward to reading your posts again! ❤️
Baydreamer Writes ~ Lauren Scott, Author & Poet 