Dear Family and Friends, I am thrilled to share that my poem, “An Invitation” is published on Spillwords Press today as a Featured Post! Thank you to Dagmara and her team for accepting my submission. It is always a great honor to have my writing featured on this wonderful platform, and to be in the company of many talented authors.
An Invitation
Smooth granite invites contemplation and reflection. Please, take a seat, relax, watch the lake’s ripples perform their water dance. Does the shimmering surface remind you of stars presenting a ballet in a brilliant night sky?
Note the tall pines swaying in the breeze, you can gently sway, too, if you feel the need. Let the depth of your soul bathe in the beauty...
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, and I’d love to read your thoughts. But either way,I’d appreciate your support! 🤗
Thank you again to Dagmara K. and her team! I am truly grateful! ❤️🌷
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 am thrilled to share that Spillwords Press has published my story “Resilience is Her Saving Grace.” Thank you to Dagmara and her team for accepting my submission. It is a great honor to have my writing spotlighted again, and to be in the company of so many talented authors.This story is meaningful because it means I’ve stepped out of the poetry box to dabble in fiction. And while it is fiction, the topic is reality for so many people. It was my desire to end ‘her’ story with hope so that hope could take on a ripple effect for anyone experiencing a similar scenario. Thank you for reading…
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.
You can read the rest of my story here, and if you can give it a ❤️, I’d really appreciate your support! 🤗
You don’t need to log in to give it a lovely ❤️, but you do need to if you’d like to leave a comment. And I would love to read your thoughts, but either way, I would appreciate your time and support. Thank you so much! 🙏
Thank you again to Dagmara K. and her team! I am truly grateful! 🌷
Thank you for visiting, and I wish you a lovely day!❤️ Both photos are courtesy of Spillwords Press.
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! 💚
I’ve done a lot of reflecting on the days building up to my recent 59th birthday (repeated a few times). 🙂 The quiet moments of contemplation were due to my health being challenged in the last year, but I’m not going to put you to sleep with pain-talk. You see, every new day is a precious gift, and birthdays are a chance to celebrate another year of life, so what better reason do we need?
There is no better reason, but I admit to feeling less than celebratory because of these changes my poor body has endured. These two health conditions are here to stay. I can’t bid them farewell, so I’m coming to terms with them, albeit a slow process. And even though things could be worse, it doesn’t negate what I’m experiencing – essentially, a new chapter in my book. Thus, my excitement to blow out the candles this go around felt contained instead of free. Are my feelings justified? Living with pain can be a downer. And I know that I’m at an age when health can change.
And yet, without a support circle to help keep my chin up, it would be much harder to focus on the good. And ‘the good’ is what keeps me moving forward! And moving forward is the best direction! I know there will be hiccups and hurdles but taking life ‘one day at a time’ never sounded so wise.
I chose to get an epidural which gave me the heebie-jeebies, but it finally kicked in, so I’m feeling better. Not 100%, but better enough to do some walking and smiling on my special day. The celebration spanned over four days of sipping Chardonnay, indulging in delicious food, and receiving wonderful gifts. I reveled in the joy of blowing out the candles on the carrot cake (my favorite)! Part of the fun was when my hubby, son, and I strolled around a local, charming beach town. My daughter and son-in-law celebrated from Tennessee! She and I recently had one of our iconic phone chats where even we broke our own record – we talked for 5 hours! It was awesome! Anyway, back to the beach, I was grateful for this pain-free day. It felt good to ‘feel good.’ 🙏
It was lovely to see a touch of spring. Flowers from hubby. YUM!!!
We enjoyed a sinfully delicious dinner that night, and afterwards, we took a drive that lead us to a beautiful spot for taking in the lights and the stunning moon. My hubby gets credit for the last shot.
And now a slight detour, if you missed my previous post about my interview on Spillwords Press, and you’d like to check it out, the link is: https://spillwords.com/spotlight-on-writers-lauren-scott/. It was an honor to be chosen to participate in their series: Spotlight on Writers. Feel free to give it a ❤️ or to leave a comment. I’d be grateful if you would! 🤗🙏
So, Cheers to celebrating life, one day at a time, and to relishing in the blessings and beautiful beginnings that birthdays offer! 🎉🙏
Thanks SO much for stopping by, and I truly wish you all good health. ~Lauren 💝
I am thrilled to be featured on Spillwords Press as part of their ‘Spotlight on Writers’ Series and my interview is live right now! Thanks so much to Dagmara and her team for offering this amazing opportunity. It’s a wonderful feeling to be recognized and to have a platform such as Spillwords to showcase my poetry. I am truly honored and grateful! And now for a peek at the interview beginning with Question #1:
Where do you hail from?
I was born in Palo Alto located in Northern California. But since my parents shared an excitement for moving, when I was two years old, we relocated to Cypress in the southern part of the state. The neighborhood where I began kindergarten evokes memories of playing with tadpoles and a frog the size of a football that I named Sam. When I was eight years old, we moved to Anaheim with Disneyland in our backyard. Mickey Mouse, Donald Duck, and the rest of his cohorts became friends. I met a girl who lived around the block, and our friendship remains to this day. She and I spent most of our time in the magic kingdom when ticket books existed, and e-ticket rides were the best! Three years later, my parents packed up the house again, but this time, traveled across state lines to New Mexico. We lived in a beautiful brick house where wintertime brought snow for our brown and white springer spaniel to romp around in. But after four years, back to Southern California we headed. Moving frequently in my childhood was difficult – changing schools, leaving old friends, and making new friends. But my parents had their reasons, so I didn’t harbor any resentment toward them. Fullerton became my high school home, and the last one before I moved out on my own. Who knew that in the future, I’d find my way back to the northern part of the state with my husband and children.
If your interest is piqued and you’d like to read the full interview, click here and you will gently be carried over to Spillwords. Or you can simply click on the Spillwords image below. And if you would be so kind to give me a friendly ❤️ while you’re over there, you won’t need an account. But if you’d like to leave a comment, you will need to log in, and of course, I’d love to read your thoughts! Either way, if you cheer me on, I’ll greatly appreciate it! 🙏
Voted Author of the Month for May 2023
Thank you so much for stopping by, and please know that I appreciate you! 🙏🩷
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! 💚
Time is flying, minutes are passing by at lightning speed, the days are staying lighter a little longer, and tomorrow, Wednesday, January 31st, is the last day to vote! Again, thank you to Dagmara and her team for publishing my work. I’m honored to be nominated for this award, and to be among wonderful friends who are amazing writers! As far as I’m concerned, we’re all winners! 🎉🎉
To vote, you’ll need to log in, and I know this can be challenging. But I do appreciate your time, effort, and support! I really do! 🙏
In order to cast your vote, simply clickhere. Thank you from the bottom of my heart! ❤️
I’ll leave you with a poem from my book (the poem from which my book found its title) to guide you through today and days to come.I’ve shared it before, so enjoy for another reading!
Ever So Gently
Sometimes we get lost in our thoughts… losing focus of the stars lighting up the night sky. We tumble too deeply into the frontal lobe, allowing negative thoughts to awaken, to throw a tantrum.
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.
Its glow will grow ever so gently into a bright beacon of hope rising with the golden sun bringing clarity to our vision.
What a surprise I discovered last night to find an email from Dagmara at Spillwords Pressinforming me that I have been nominated for Author of the Year for 2023!
The following nominees for Author of the Year are:
SmithaV Michelle Ayon Navajas Cindy Georgakas Lauren Scott Suman Pokhrel Verity Mason Nial Crowley Vidya Venkataramanan Caroline Ashley Adele Evershed Rob Wilcher Dawn DeBraal Ernie Stricsek
So, this is the time when I ask for your vote, and voting begins today and will end on Wednesday, January 31st. You will need to log in to vote, but all I can do is ask. You may cast your vote by clicking on this link: https://spillwords.com/vote/
Baydreamer Writes ~ Lauren Scott, Author & Poet 