Creativity Heals #art #depression

I just read a blog by a blogger who was really pressing down on herself for feeling that things are so bad. They are and they are not. It’s a matter of perspective.


Something that helps so much is expression.

Blogging, art, writing are all forms of media that help us keep from that tipping point.

When I was very active on Social Media (sorry guys I am all over the world at the mo and so blogging is really a back door thing) I was meeting people coming out of Alcoholism, attempts at suicide, a divorce that drove the person batty…

there is that place to go to splash paint and get it off the head and heart.

And there is always prayer…

Reverse Thunder

I hear thunder in the distance

rolling onward like the waves

gaining power it surges  forward

and like a child I am afraid

flash and pounding ever stronger

seconds now and it will hit

dark the clouds and growing closer

blowing fragile tree to bits

it has stopped and hovers o’er me

a distinct voice of one I love

in the whispers it is calming

begging help from God above


Reverse Thunder

whispered prayers become a shout

God listens


The Cloudless Day #art #poetry #nature

Bleak winter presses on my soul

grey solitude heavy weight

nature’s blanket takes its toll

tearing at all reason I wait

colour plied to canvas tight

window opens cloudless peace

greens and yellows pull the light

shutter of my soul release

brush continually applies

shape takes beauty’s form

of winter I am free inside

spring unveils her radiant warmth

The art: “Clare’s Window” (1980s) is one of the paintings my mother has painted that brings nature’s beauty indoors. On many wintery days, I have pulled at the warmth from her work and felt less wintry weight.

One Day Away #poetry #suicide

One day soon

I will walk away

where you ask

neither matters

nor the day


i have found

too hard to bear

this shallow orb

few listen

fewer care



hand stretches for me

look at the colors

feel the wind

light flicker in the trees


yes  i’ve seen beauty

and more

heard all  nature

crescendoed  sound

beckoning at the shore


it’s not the world

I care to leave

it’s the broken heart

fragile tears

love bereaved


do not miss me

when i’m gone

walk the beaches

touch her beauty

in her be strong

I shared this poem over at the Poetry Pantry hosted by Poets United

Photography ‘Solemn Walk”  L. Moon copyright 2011

Trapped in the Mirror #oneshotwednesday

Hidden from view
My heart from you
Not round the next corner
No where to be found

Pick up the pieces
If that’s what pleases
You will never find me
In this shattered mosaic

I was lost long ago
How I don’t know
Faded in the mirror
No one looked then

You caught a piece of my eye
As you were sadly walking by
How you saw it
Remains a mystery

“Come out from there
You look sad, ensnared
Let me look at you
Make you smile”

He talked and made me look
read to me a book
Vowed to never leave
We were all we had

Then one day
It’s hard to say
What happened
to  the walls of my jail

I was set free
He fell to his knee
Entreating me
To live my life with him

I will gladly roam
With him my home
I am captive no more
the dungeon in the mirror

Please join us as we enjoy another week of fabulous poetry at One Stop Poetry. All are welcome to share their words of inspiration. Claudia Schoenfeld will be our host.

Substance of Choice #drugs #alcohol

It was supposed to be…

a nice little story rosebuds and flowers

lovers walking hand in hand by the moonlight

it wasn’t…


What writer can take grim reality and put a bow on it?

How can they call it pretty?

This consuming world, an underworld of sorts,  where children, teens, men, and women are pulled into  an inescapable vortex .


The clarion call “just try it,  maybe you’ll like it”

“you might feel better about your circumstances.”

For some they could “try it”, “like it” then walk away.

What about those who could never pull free?

The magnet held them stronger than any pull they had ever experienced.

Love had no grasp like “the substance of choice.”


The twenty year old college drop out who sits in a dark room a bottle, weed, anything else he can afford.


The young wife who, after sending her children to school,  slumps into oblivion.

She forgets how to make herself pretty;  her substance of choice loves her that’s all that matters.


A man who had everything a job, wife, kids.

It’s all  gone now.

Instead of getting dressed and ready for work,  he forgets coffee and breakfast; all he needs is in his baggy of white nose dust.


The old woman now holds nothing in her hands.

She pushed it all away years ago.

Nothing but memories that haunt every moment of every day.

“Get away from me” she cries into another clear bottle.


Where will they go?

What will they do at the end of the day?

At the end of their lives,  will they be shattered,  broken glass ground so fine you could smoke it?


pointless ashes!

Photo Credit:

Creative Commons/Moondustwriter/C. Eslava

Dire Straights – Disparity between the Haves and the Have Nots (part 1)

How many see the hurting people in our world. Did you give a bottle of water to that thirsty girl in Haiti or did you just see the picture in Newsweek?

I’m going to break for the norm of my writing style because:

  • people are losing their homes
  • people have no livelihood to care for their families
  • men are losing their dignity- their home is a shopping cart and they are sleeping in the same clothes they wore
  • people are losing what little they have because of scams
  • people are living better on welfare than others who are trying to keep their households afloat

I have a dear friend who offered to let several homeless families live on her families property. The property was not zoned for residential. It has orchard and a river runs alongside of it. My friend though her job has been cut back to almost nothing paid for porta potties and water to be available on the property. Two weeks later the “authorities” told her she could not allow people to live on the land. Why? It was zoned for agriculture. Though the original homestead was still on the site it was considered non-residential.

The underlying issue? A near-by housing development didn’t want vagrants living that close.

During the Great Depression, people had to live off the land to survive. Are we going to make that impossible? What is our alternative – koolaid? (a Jim Jones special)

Ok so this diatribe sounds great what do I know about shopping carts, scams ,loss of work.

Hmm you will have to wait until part two…


No Hope

Loveless – Who Cares?

Is the sign she read

over the person

who wished he was dead

Loveless – Who Cares

get off the ground

pick up the pieces

stop moping around

Loveless – Who Cares?

no one is there

to comfort you

in an hour of despair

Loveless – Who cares?

life is empty

shades of gray

doesn’t matter anyway

Loveless – Who Cares?

there is nothing left

no hugs or smiles

so – you’re bereft

Loveless  –  Who Cares?

fill an empty space

no one will notice

if I leave this place

thanks for the photo:


I Can’t Be Crazy!!!

Alicia had heard enough. This couldn’t be. All she had been told was a lie.

“Wasn’t it?” she thought.

My life as a mom and wife can’t be over.

She would need to be drugged until they could find help. How could this be? Just yesterday, she had delivered her baby boy or so it seemed. The doctors hadn’t said anything then. Wouldn’t they have known? She fought back despair. After all wasn’t despair another form of mental illness?

“Alicia – think! What do you recall the symptoms would be: erratic behavior, emotional, angry, can’t make wise decisions. What is the rest ?  I must be crazy. That sounds like me. But- did they ever consider postpartum depression?”

For one moment she had a reasonable thought. Then -“Alicia you are talking to yourself. You are nuts!!!”

Alicia knew her husband and his new assistant would never give her drugs and keep the children away if she wasn’t crazy. Sonya, his assistant, was so sweet.

“Young and pretty- like I was as a young wife.”

There was still that hesitation.A stronger more rational thought.

“Alicia don’t take the medicine! If they make you, force it back up.”  She had to know.


“Alicia, honey, here is your medicine.”

“Oh good, thank you- I was waiting. I think it’s helping. Could you get me some juice? It helps with the after- taste.”

While Sonya was gone, Alicia slipped the pills in an empty envelope.

“Oh thank you. I was able to get them down but this will help with the taste in my throat. I’m tired – I’ll take a nap.”


A week or two went by. Alicia felt better; her terrible headaches were gone.  She didn’t feel like staying in bed round -the -clock though she did so it looked like she was taking the medication.

“Hello Katie. I’m sorry I haven’t returned you calls. I need you to do me a favor. I’ve not been well.  I”m feeling so much better. I was wondering if we could go shopping tomorrow. My husband is overly concerned -please don’t let him convince you I can’t. I think the best thing for me is to get out.”

“Hello Tracy. It was so kind of you to offer to have the children come over. Would you be able to have them tomorrow – and the baby? My husband feels it would be good for them to have a play date. Oh they will love it. Would you mind calling and telling my husband’s assistant your plan.  Thank you so much.”


It was a bright sunny day, children were playing, two friends were shopping, an employer and his beautiful assistant discussed when they would live like there was no tomorrow…

For more stories visit The Tenth Daughter of Memory – theme “Live Like There is No Tomorrow”

A place called nothing

There is a place called nothing

It’s void of space and time

I guarantee it’s real

Represents – frame of mind


Nothing – you might say is empty

Some might say its flat

A question lingers in the mind

Nothing- where is that?


Could nothing be a place

A place where you are not

People point and gawk

For some – it is their lot


Many say its fiction

Others say it’s fact

Sadly I have lived there

Never- wanting  to go back


Thanks to Craig Finlay for the photo