For a fun Friday, I’m trying something new, and honestly, I’m not sure if my attempts are right! 🙂 I learned about Tautogram poetry on Luisa’s blog, Words and Music and Stories, and she suggested I give them a try. So I did…
The tautogram is best explained by its Greek root words of “tauto” meaning “the same” and “gramma” meaning “letter.” Basically, all words in the poem begin with the same letter.
Here we go! I inserted Friday inspiration and a little bit of Copper!
I hope you enjoyed these tautograms! They were fun and a bit challenging, but I’ll keep trying! 😂
By the way, I’ll be hanging out with hubby at our favorite lake in the Sierra Mountains next week, and beginning on Sunday, I’ll be off the grid. So, have a great weekend and a wonderful week ahead! And I always appreciate your visits and feedback. Hugs, Lauren ❤️
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’m thrilled to share that my poem “Burdens to Buoyancy” is published on Gobblers & Masticadores today! Thank you to Manuela Timofte for believing in my workand providing the opportunity to be a monthly contributor to her literary site. I am in the company of so many talented writers. Thanks again, Manuela!
Burdens to Buoyancy
Stones of burdens can seem like pebbles barely tripping us up in our routines, but sometimes, they’re boulder massive, sliding us deeply into our heads when the need to escape from our own selves becomes vital for our sanity.
We pause in our footsteps, holding our breath, fighting tears pushing as fiercely as a category five…
The rest of the poem can be read here, and as always, a BIG THANKS to all of you for your wonderful support!
Thank you for visiting, and I wish you a lovely day!❤️ Photo by Ir Solyanaya on Pexels.com
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! 💚
How did naiveté slide into her veins? Why were those vessels so accommodating? She had listened intently to his persuasive syllables as they rolled like a lover’s ballad carried on summer’s breeze. They purported to express his love and devotion to her. Hence, the cadence of her heartbeat simulated gentle ocean waves ebbing and flowing beneath a robin egg blue sky. Her mind fuzzy like a delicious wine buzz because that’s what the power of love is capable of, mesmerizing her before his promises landed hard in the branches of the trees, stabbed in retaliation.
How did naiveté leech into her blood transforming its crimson red to a faded replica of weakness? The mirror hanging on the back of her door exposes a reflection of despair, unrecognizable. Yet, she understands the breadth of her situation, but when will the difference between humanity and an arresting performance reveal itself? When will the language flow like a lover’s ballad on summer’s breeze embracing her with warmth and security of compassion and honesty? Or is this simply a dream so far-removed from her reach?
Time mystifies, but with its magical means, her mind has awakened to reality. She releases a sigh of relief, realizing her heart is devoid of fissures. Never again will she place her golden treasure in danger of breaking. She has rid his presence from her precious sunrises. The panacea was inside her all along – a shifting from low self-esteem to self-assurance, an enlightening altering of what she desires for her tomorrows.
The longing in her soul pulses to witness butterflies flutter by again, and deer casually stroll down her street. To witness hummingbirds seeking out soft petals, evoking memories of her beloved mother. It’s not as though butterflies never visited her garden, or deer never strolled by her home, and it’s not like hummingbirds avoided visiting for a sip from her pink geraniums. She just never permitted herself to observe the beauty because her heart became preoccupied, and he was undeserving of its loyalty, frequently opining his needs and unconcerned with hers.
But now she shows great sagacity in making changes after declaring to her reflection in the mirror of what life offers. All she needs to do is invite life in. So, let the chirp of birds echo – delightful sounds of joy outside her window – and let deer stroll in their graceful manners. Let the wind blow, the mountains call, and the waterfalls fall, because blood in her veins now flows rich crimson red!
I realized this moment would come I knew the time would arrive, those hands on the clock they’re always on the move – when I had dreamed of so much more for this special minute, I have no poem…
even as I reflect while observing the hanging petunia, appealing in purple, swinging gently in the breeze or as I listen to my lab snoring softly, lying inches away, no poem has settled beside me…
even as I watch the geranium reach in its rich wine-red wardrobe for the infinite wild blue and the lemon-yellow daffodil looking dapper in its shamrock finery, no poem has greeted me with a tender embrace.
I fear that as this moment journeys into the next, and the sun bids farewell, allowing the moon to play her part, and those dedicated hands continue to circle and mystify, my pen will lie dry as a desert riverbed, my paper bare as a wall without photos.
Still, I will remain empty handed without poetry to enrich my soul, but tomorrow when the sun ascends and the sky unfolds to new possibilities, it will be then when I shall try again.
A collection of poems that speaks of nature’s healing touch, howlove shapes our lives, and the mysteries of life. Click on the image to purchase your copy. Thank you! 💚
Stones of burdens can seem like pebbles barely tripping us up in our routines, but sometimes, they’re boulder massive, sliding us deeply into our heads when the need to escape from our own selves becomes vital for our sanity
we pause in our footsteps, holding our breath, fighting tears pushing as fiercely as a category five
but then our eyes look out the window following sunlight, focusing on the frost hanging on tips of tree branches as though adorned by sparkling jewels
they wink at us and those boulders shrink to pebbles with the sweetness of air, we inhale new life burdens we exhale, so we can breathe in miracles surrounding us – in those who hold our hearts, in every sight, every bloom, every sound…
This past Christmas,Santa brought me an inspirational journal with some coloring options. I haven’t owned a coloring book in decades, probably since my youth. Maybe I joined in the fun with my kids when they were young. I honestly don’t remember. Anyway, I thought I would give it a try because it sounded relaxing. Well, after the strawberries came to life, my neck began to bark at me. Who knew that coloring could be tough on the body! I sat at the table with my head down, all concentration geared towards keeping the red within the lines. I suppose with any activity, some part of our body will begin to bark sooner or later. So, baby steps, right?
For any goal we set, we begin by taking baby steps. No one starts out at the top. Everyone finds their starting point at the bottom then the climb begins until the destination is reached. This doesn’t mean we won’t stumble, but we will press on. So, I’ll return to this beautiful image, and soon the blooms and leaves will come alive in their wardrobes of oranges, yellows, purples, pinks, and greens. One small step at a time.
So, be kind to yourself, be patient, go slow in whatever you set out to do – believe that you will get there! You know you will because you’re awesome, because you’re YOU!
Even baby steps will move you forward!
The path will shine its light showing you the way. Wear confidence on your sleeve to begin the gift of each new day!
Have a wonderful day and thanks for dropping in to my little corner of blogland! ❤️
Baydreamer Writes ~ Lauren Scott, Author & Poet 