Tag Archives: Literature

Cover Reveal |Catching up with Imagineer-ing

Cover Reveal

Posted on 23rd December, 2013 by damo1701

I have decided on the front cover for the newest book to be released, and would like to share this with you all.

Pattens Front

With help from my partner, we were able to use one of Dad’s actual watercolour paintings as the front cover.Opinions?

via Cover Reveal | Imagineer-ing.


One And The Same | Catching up with Poetry on a Roll

One and the Same

\”Free verse\” poetry from the soul

I shout.
You scream
things get worse.
I don’t listen.
You don’t listen.
things could be better
I get mad.
You’re foaming at the mouth.
We are both showing off
in each other’s faces.
no one wants to back down.
Bright lights on,
our true colors on high beam.
We are one and the same
in our actions and reactions.

Copyright © 2013 Kimalee Jones

via One And The Same | Poetry on a Roll.

The 365 Poetry Project Welcome to a new friend: Charlotte Cuevas

The 365 Poetry Project

One poem a day for a full year. Think I’ll make it?

via Day 59 – Literally | The 365 Poetry Project.

Day 59 – Literally

I’ve had enough of liars-
jokers, clever poets, and satirists-
skirting around what they mean
by proclaiming what they don’t.

Hiding behind a grey screen,
treading water in the middle
of two extremes
and murking it up with their sass;
it isn’t so funny to me.

For would the world not be better off
if all wore visibly their intent,
and made completely known their
point of view?

I haven’t time for deciphering,
unfurling riddles and hypothesizing
whether a no is really a no,
or a deceitfully disguised yes.

I find no fun in figuring
and believe that everyone ought
to aspire to be taken straightforwardly-
to be an honest and genuine man-
to be an honest man
like me.

Day 67 – Florida Winter

You’d think we all gave our lives to be here-
retired early in a condo on the beach
after decades of shoveling horrible snows,
the way we carry on.

We trump out our fanciest pea coats
for three weeks of December discomfort,
grumbling and wiping the dust off
the red part of the thermostat.

But most of us don’t know it, never got
the heart-thrill of thawing something frozen,
never suffered through the negatives
to earn that blessed warmth.

But I have had my fill of swimming pools,
tans I have no use for, ugly flip-flops,
because I know there is no sweat
like the sweat under fleece-
the maddening contradiction of fear and joy
that accompanies a blizzard, wondering whether
we’ll wake alive or dead
in the morning.

I Ain’t Doin’ NaNoWriMo: An Aside

Today begins a month-long project that most of my writer friends are obsessing about, and that most of my non-writer friends are completely unaware of: National Novel Writing Month, lovingly shortened to NaNoWriMo. The challenge is to write a novel of 50,000 words or more in 30 days. (I know you’re doing the math so I’ll spare you the trouble: that’s about 1700 words per day just to make the minimum word count… yikes.)The whole project is supposed to be this uplifting, self-challenging exercise that not only tests your capabilities and willpower, but motivates you to create something you wouldn’t otherwise have had the gumption to complete. Plus, since there’s a whole bunch of other people doing it at the same time, you’ve got this expansive community of writers to hold hands and sing Kumbayah with (or beat your heads on your desks in unison, whatever the case may be.)

As the clock has wound down to NaNoWriMo’s commencement today, lately I’ve heard numerous excited friends hailing its perks and trying to convince me to participate. I thought about it, honestly I did give it a good once-over, but I’ve come to the conclusion that no, I ain’t doin’ it.

Now immediately I know some of you are gasping or scoffing or making some sort of choking noise, I can tell (because yeah, I’m in your computer screen, deal with it.) But before you deal out a swift judgment about my literary merit, allow me to explain.

I’m not doing NaNoWriMo because I don’t need to. If the point is to push/torture yourself into tackling a huge project or to stretch the limits of what you think you’re capable of, I’m already doing that, trust me. My 365 Poetry Project marches ever on, in which I somehow squeeze in enough time to write and publish one poem a day for a full year, the only rule being that I have to be proud of whatever I end up releasing to the public. Believe me, it ain’t easy. I write through my lunch breaks, or in the car, or at restaurant tables surrounded by quasi-offended friends who haven’t yet decided whether it’s mostly amusing or mostly annoying. I wake up in the morning thinking about poetry, scan billboards and boring paperwork for inspiration, cancel dates if I’m not finished yet, and go to sleep thinking about tomorrow’s poem. In short, writing already runs my life. You’ll have to excuse me if the idea of pushing myself any further makes me laugh and want to jump out the window.


Chill Tanka |Catching up with Black and Write

Black and Write

The Poetic Musings of Dom DIFrancesco

Chill…Rustle of trees

Winter is fast approaching

Usher in the dead season

Like the cycle of our lives

One dies another is born


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

via Chill Tanka | Black and Write.

For J.R. | Poesy plus Polemics

Livingston NJ Police Officer Badge

Livingston NJ
Police Officer Badge

(My first attempt at the tanka form)

my son wears the badge

lives the honor of service

no less than the day

he raced off to ground zero

or sailed into Desert Storm

via For J.R. | Poesy plus Polemics.

[Terry:  I’ll bet 10 bucks that no one in the Livingston NJ Police Department has EVER had a tanka written about them before. They may have lifted a coupla tankas…]

Love Is………. |CUP with helen midgley

Love Is……….

Posted by helen midgley on September 29, 2013


(Image from

Love is the touch that renders me still,

And Love is the hunger that I cannot fill,

Love is the kindling that feeds a wild fire,

And Love is the flame that reaches up higher.

Love is the scent of an apple blossom tree,

And love is the flower that you open in me,

Love is the daisy that is linked by a chain,

And love is the sunshine that comes before rain.

Love is the breath that is whispered on skin,

And love is the blood that simmers within,

Love is the heat of the passion beneath,

And love is the wanting that I cannot sheath.

Love is the melee that rages for peace,

And love is the prisoner that yearns for release,

Love is the conflict that fights as we mate,

And love is the soldier whose battle I sate.

Love is the essence of all that we share,

And love is my reason to think that you care,

Love is the words that still lay unspoken,

And love is the wish for just a small token.

Love is the ache that I carry inside,

And love is the struggle I have with my pride.

Love is the one thing I know you won’t give,

And love is the reason that makes me forgive.

via Love Is………. | helen midgley.

City of Prawns | Catching up with old Friends:Poesy plus Polemics

City of Pawns – Kindle

My new book of poetry City of Pawns is now available in Kindle e-book version at:

City of Pawns

City of Pawns

Buy from Amazon

via City of Pawns – Kindle | Poesy plus Polemics.

[Terry: Ooops. Guess I got the name wrong. Well, make it up to Paul and race out to buy the book. I’ve posted his material here and he has yet to disappoint.

I do wonder, however, what a City of Prawns would be like…]

No Love Poems | Catching up with friends: Gatsby’s Abandoned Children

No Love Poems

  by · in Poem

poem heart fossil fossilized

The bruises along her legs are not memories
but empty spaces.

There is no fossilized evidence

love ever existed.

via No Love Poems | Gatsby’s Abandoned Children.

[Terry: Wow. Just Wow]

A Meeting of Minds: Author Interview of… Me! | Catching up with Christy Birmingham

[Terry: OK, here’s the backstory. Christyb has been nice enough to support this blog since it’s inception and lately become a email friend. So I went and bought her book of Poems–Pathways to Illumination.

I want to fit into the frame of your bedroom mirror,

Crawl into the detailing of the mahogany wood, and

Earn a splinter to

Remind you that I still exist.

Christy Birmingham. Pathways To Illumination (Kindle Locations 144-145).

Wow, this kid has some serious talent. Take a look, read her blog, buy her book. I’m just sayin.]

Poetic Parfait

A Meeting of Minds: Author Interview of… Me!

Heart Candle

Heart Candle (Photo credit: Bob.Fornal)

christyb leans forward and looks you right in the face. She grasps your hand excitedly and says in a high voice, “I’m the subject of an author interview!”

I send a thank-you to Laurie at Odds and Ends for having me over for a visit at her site today. We chatted about my fixation on poetry and my new book Pathways to Illumination. I explain why I wrote the book and the message I hope that the pages send to readers.

I hope you stop by Odds and Ends to read the interview. In addition, I hope your day is great, whether it is a holiday for you or not.

To everyone who supports my posts and book, you light the bonfire in my heart and motivate me to keep going!

via A Meeting of Minds: Author Interview of… Me! | Poetic Parfait.

Interview: Christy Birmingham Author of Pathways to Illumination

Christy Birmingham is a poet and the author of Pathways to Illumination. PI gives an intimate look at an abusive relationship from the beginning all the way

Christy Birmingham

to the healing. Today Ms. Birmingham is here to shed some light on herself and PI. Sit back and relax while we chat.

Welcome Christy, it is a pleasure to have you here with us today. Please introduce yourself to our readers.
Hi Laurie, thanks for having me here for a visit!

I am proud to introduce myself today, which is a different feeling than I had a few years ago. Back then, I was deeply ashamed of myself. Today I am healthy and live in British Columbia, Canada as a freelance writer, author and poet.
I love to write, whether it is a poem or a content article. Some of my favorite moments in the day are the ones when my fingers fly with intention across the keyboard. Outside of writing, I enjoy going for walks in the beautiful nature of Canada’s west coast. I am very close to my parents too.
Can you tell me how old you were when you first began writing poetry?
I was in elementary school. I had my first poem published around that time, and I was ecstatic. In high school, I took a writing class and Advanced Placement English. My teachers, including Mr. and Mrs. Stenson, encouraged me to write creatively. I wrote poetry and had a short story published in The Claremont Review.
Do you edit your poetry?
I usually do, although not always. I write some of my poetry in ‘free write’ form, which means I write continuously without allowing myself to go back to edit lines or stop mid-sentence. I rarely edit those ones later.
I didn’t start doing deep edits of my poetry until last year. I realized that when I ‘shelved’ a poem, or put it away for a time, that when I returned to it I saw ways to improve it. I enjoy creating images that appeal to the readers’ senses. When I edit, I am able to strengthen the images. I can also modify punctuation and line breaks to improve the flow of the piece.
In the book’s introduction, you tell the reader that PI is loosely based on your own experiences. Would you mind telling us a bit more about that and the reasons that you wrote PI?
The book is not a memoir, although I had a reader mistakenly think that. Instead, the poetic journey of the woman in the book ties loosely to my past. I went through a period of depression during and after an unhealthy relationship that was verbally abusive, amongst other issues. After I tried to take my own life, family members swept me into therapy.
I began to journal, at my therapist’s suggestion, as a way to work through my troubled feelings. I began to write poetry, in addition to the journaling activity. I had not written poems in years. As I wrote more, I began to see the poems as the basis for a future collection to publish. I began to realize I was not alone in my feelings of depression following abuse, and hoped to help others who read my healing words.
Who should read PI?
The intended reader is adult as the serious issues might disturb a younger audience. I originally wrote the book to help women who suffer from abuse, depression, and/or low confidence. Male readers have sent me notes to say they have found the read helped them too. I want the book to motivate readers, especially people questioning whether there hope exists in the future. There are hopeful notes throughout the book.


This And That | Catching up with Kimalee Jones

Poetry on a Roll

This And That

You don’t know me
better than I know myself.
Don’t try to show me
a painted picture of myself.

Don’t use my words
to mop the floor.
Stop using your words like swords
to push me out the door.

My life like yours is full of mistakes,
stop pretending you are made of gold.
I always knew that you were fake, fake, fake,
you only wanted me to freeze in the cold.

Copyright © 2013 Kimalee Jones

via This And That | Poetry on a Roll.

Do Indie Authors Still Suck? Or Did They Once Suck and Now Don’t? Or Did They Never Suck?

[Terry: OK, we have an impassioned and occasionally vulgar attack and a reasoned and polite — if deadly–response. So, I decided, as someone who once considered himself a journalist, to combine them into one.

FIRST.  An impassioned anonymous writer who has issued a obscene and illustrated jeremiad against independent authors.
SECOND: Misha Burnett, an old friend of this blog who responds reasonably but firmly–and wields a damn good literary stiletto.
THIRD: Because I wasn’t really a journalist, I only worked in television news, I’m going to include a POLL so we can trivialize the conversation and generally enjoy ourselves.
Hey!  I was extremely well-trained in the art and craft of crappy TV!]

Why Indie Authors Still Suck

Posted on August 10, 2013 by Grammar Nazi Panzer General


I’ve come here today to talk to you about Indie Authors.  Yes, that’s right, Indie Authors.

I contemplated answering a question about indie authors, until I realized that I’ve gotten the same question over and fucking OVER about the indie market. I figured it deserved its own, shiny little blog post.

So let’s address the main question here: Is the Indie Market really that bad?  I mean are they really?

Yes.  They really, really are.

There are exceptions to every rule, and I’ll address that in a minute, but for now let me just say, the Indie Market is shit.  It’s a little pile of shit, wrapped up in shit, to make a shit burrito covered in shit sauce.

In the Indie World, you can find the drudges of the literary market.  The unedited, untalented, unresearched drivel that has been rejected by every publishing house this side of the universe– and with good reason. But instead of putting the book down, or setting it on fire, the sorry excuse for a writer has turned to the indie market for validation.

The author has taken the 10,945th attempt to write the next Twilight and thrown it to the rabid, uncaring, undiscerning market of women clamoring for their next idiotic, pathetic female, and well-chiseled male, and they don’t care if anything is spelled correctly.  They don’t care if there isn’t a coherent plot.  They don’t care if the author writing the book has never taken a basic literary course.  And somehow, that validates their writing against all of the professional rejection they’ve received.

On the other side of that you’ll find authors who have never tried the traditional literary market.  I’m going to go out on a limb here and pull this percentage out of my ass…

Ahhhhhhh.  96%.  I believe about 96% of those who have never tried the traditional market don’t because they know they’re going to get rejected.  Their book is nothing but glorified fanfiction, and somehow they’ve decided that indie publishing is the way to go, and have the gall to ask hard-working human beings to pay them for that drivel.

There is a time and a place for that shit, my dears.  And it’s called Livejournal.  It’s the place where pathetic, lonely, vampire obsessed writers go to get their fix.

For the Rest Click HERE  Why Indie Authors Still Suck | So You Think You’re An Author.


An open letter to a frightened man

This is in response to “Why Indie Authors Still Suck” on So You Think You’re An Author by someone who calls himself “anonnymouse13″.

Now, I won’t address the obscenity, profanity, and random personal attacks liberally sprinkled through this post.  Seventh grade was a lot of years ago for me, and that stuff stopped either shocking or amusing me years ago.

Looking at the forty percent or so of the post that actually says something, he has written a rather passionate defense of traditional publishing.  Passionate, yes, reasonable, not so much.

Basically, he has one good point to make. Books require editing.  That happens to be quite true.  It is true for Indie authors and it is true for traditionally published authors.  Quite frankly, I don’t know anyone who doesn’t agree with that.  So I’ll just admit the obvious and agree with him.

Books require editing.

However, from that fact he draws the completely erroneous assumption that because books require editing it therefore follows that authors must be published by traditional publishing houses or “they suck”.

In the first place, traditional publishing houses do not have a monopoly on editors.  There are a great many excellent freelancers who work on a per-job basis for indie authors.  Many of these freelancers have experience working at the traditional publishing houses and either left to pursue freelance careers or were let go in one of the innumerable restructurings that the publishing business seems to require.

In the second place, a freelance editor works for the author and does what the author wants done.  A staff editor works for a publishing house, and does what the publishing house wants, usually for less money than a freelancer, and often under an enforced schedule that allows for little more than spellchecking.  The days when a traditional publishing house could afford to give personalized attention to a new author are long gone.

The same goes for book designers and cover artists.  Traditional publishing houses view these as assembly line functions–you say it’s science fiction?  Here’s your picture of a rocket ship.  Fantasy?  Here’s your elf girl in a chain-mail bikini. Next!

Anonnymouse13′s main argument–that traditional publishing houses turn out a higher quality product than an independent author working with freelancers–is simply not supportable.  And that’s his best argument.

He goes on to say that he believes that the majority of authors who choose to self-publish do so because they know that traditional publishers wouldn’t accept their books.  He is probably right about that.  I can only speak for myself, but I am sure that no traditional publishing house would be interested in Catskinner’s Book or Cannibal Hearts. I rather doubt that The Fauxpocalypse Project could find a home at a traditional publisher.

Why?  Because I have books that don’t have either rocket ships or elf-girls in chain-mail bikinis.  I have morally ambiguous characters, sexually ambiguous characters, I play games with the narrative structure, I don’t wrap up all the loose ends in a nice neat package.  I like to make my readers think and question their own preconceptions.  Worst of all, I write books that can’t be described as “Just Like The Last Bestseller We Sold You! (And The One Before That…)” 

To be fair, you also need to click here to see the rest of Misha’s skewering.

via An open letter to a frightened man | mishaburnett.

[Vote as often as you like for as many choices as you like.  Trust me, this is as accurate as any other online poll.]

“sudden reflections new ideas dance through my head”| Catching up with Bastet and Sekhmet

Stories, thoughts, photos or poems about things I find interesting!

Tanka: Reflections


sudden reflections
new ideas dance through my head
of trips to foreign lands
of places very different
lands of eternal spring-time

via Tanka: Reflections | Bastet and Sekhmet.

Check out her NYT-winning poem |Welcome to a new friend: V.C. Linde

A blog full of poetry by V.C. Linde

This about page is a combination of three pages from my personal blog. Over there I have a page about me, a page about the website and a page about my poetry.

Here’s the condensed version.

I live, work and play in the English Midlands. I lived in London while I was at University and for a few years afterwards and then moved back to the Leicestershire/Derbyshire borders. I now live in Staffordshire – the creative county!

Most of my time is spent writing, in every possible way. I mainly write poetry and scripts but also flash-fiction, short stories, longer prose and food writing.

I started writing poetry when I was very young and just kept going. Once at university I began to research and write more clearly, I developed a lot and settled into my own style. I also wanted to have the words I wrote visible and so I began to design collages to frame my poetry and had these all around my walls. I ended up enjoying the collage so much that I formed a small business making and selling collage artwork and cards alongside the jewellery I already sold.

The first major project that I worked on was my “Three Random Words” collection where I asked for three words from 100 different people and wrote a poem that had to contain those words. The most unexpected and wonderful side effect was the inclusion of one of these poems in the beautiful anthology, Dark Currents from NewCon Press.

After the end of the Three Random Words project I tried to find something new to keep working on and I tried a few different ideas – I tried writing a poem a day, I tried free writing as well writing some After Poetry. The After Poetry collection is a series of poems inspired by a poem that I admire where I take the rhythm and theme and re-work the idea in my own voice. In spring 2012 my poem, “Free Flight into the Wordless” won the New York Times found poetry competition.

via About | Listen for the Reverb.


sleep at the bottom of the tallest tower
so that the your dreams can spiral
up, out, and away into the world.
Chase them – as they wait for you
at the crossroads and the end of the line


Simply at peace, she doesn’t move.
Her pale skin is dressed in hues
from the Rose kept high above.
A brittle glass – filigree decisions
fused over time to create beauty.
She stands, equidistant between
the Crossroads and the doorway
to decide where to go next. Choose
whether to renew or walk out.
The sun shifts and everything old
falls into its place, so that the way
will illuminate for one and all.
To follow, to choose, to believe.

With many thanks to Scott Waldrup for the original inspiration of “rose, doorway, illuminate” during the Three Random Words project.

[Terry: Wait One Damn Second. Did you read what V.C. wrote like it was a throwaway line on her About page? “In spring 2012 my poem, “Free Flight into the Wordless” won the New York Times found poetry competition.” No, I’m sorry that should be...

In spring 2012 my poem, “Free Flight into the Wordless” won the New York Times found poetry competition.

Image representing New York Times as depicted ...

Come on. Take Credit where Credit is due.]

May 18, 2012, 11:00 am Comment

Found Poem Favorite | ‘Free Flight Into the Wordless’

An image of The New York Times's obituary for famed poet Walt Whitman, which inspired this poem.An image of The New York Times obituary for poet Walt Whitman, which inspired this poem.
Go to related obituary »

This poem, one of 11 winners of our Third Annual Found Poem Contest, comes from Vick, who is 25 years old and lives in Nottingham, England.

Vick created this poem from the 1892 Times obituary of poet Walt Whitman.

Check back every day through May 25 to see the rest of the 11 winners.

Free Flight into the Wordless

He selected who arrived, sent a messenger – His
vital powers, his own lot, should turn him gradually.
The remains of the poet will be champagne, oysters and
last words. The disease left him – exhumed and deposited.
Conscious, he felt the peaceful end. Uttered so low that
the poet’s wish answered, in an almost inaudible tone.

He was dying – punch this morning – he might die.

The old gray pain arrived at the house,
the attack was failing enough to be permitted.
His last hours gathered around him,
with his few faithful friends in two tiers
“I would rather go in the woods.”
The remains of the poet continued to beat.

Poetry Philosophy Politics and Life == Welcome to a new friend Sahm King

The Arkside of Thought by Sahm King

via The Arkside of Thought by Sahm King | Poetry Philosophy Politics & Life.

Welcome to the Arkside (also known as Hell). I can’t promise you’ll find anything you like here. I also can’t promise you won’t walk away with a bitter taste in your mouth. I can promise, however, to present myself, 100%. And how can I be so audacious as to make this promise? Because it’s the 21st century and, by now, everyone should know how to change the channel! BAM! Enjoy the video. Or not…

Sahm King, the arkside of thought, blogging, about sahm, about me, poetry politics philosophy life, the arkside of thought by sahm king, sahm ataine king, poetry poetry poetry, photography, black and white photography, photographs, graphic design

Welcome to the Art of Sahm (Take a look at his official website)


Freeverse Poetry: King Arthur and the Great Beast

-That man there, sitting in the cubicle,

when he was a little boy,
used to fight dragons and witches,
so imbued with imagination was he,
that a stick he plucked from the earth
was a great broadsword called Excalibur,
and he, himself, was the legendary King Arthur,
and a great tree all the neighborhood kids
lovingly called The Witch’s Tree,
and imagined would bleed black blood
and grow tentacles should one of her limbs be shorn away,
served as mighty opposition to the land of Camelot
– his backyard –
and his benevolent rule;
and he would fight this mighty Witch’s Tree,
who was actually a great and winged beast
from the depths of hell,
and that beast would have him near defeat,
until his knights would present him with
the nectar of the gods themselves
– else it was sunmade iced tea that
had just finished cooling in the fridge –
and with his renewed strength and will,
he would make that great and winged beast
succumb to the might of Excalibur,
and again, Camelot would be spared
darkness and destruction.
Today, that man there, sitting in the cubicle,
so imbued with imagination,
fights daydreams of going home
and going to bed.

We Drink Photo Challenge 1 – Fire

I decided to try out Bastet’s We Drink Photo Challenge!  Why?  Because I can.  I don’t have a camera at the moment, so I had to make do with my Android phone using an application called Fotor.  The majority of the photomanipulations were done in Adobe Photoshop.  I only have a couple of shots that turned out, and on some areas that you may recall from my winter sets.  Nothing epic, just trying to get back into the thick of it in anticipation of getting a new camera here within the next couple of months.

No poetry with this set.  I couldn’t think of a haiku or senryu to place on either of the images.  Ah well.

By the way, for anyone interested, Bastet has put up the We Drink Photo Challenge -2.  Check it out when you’ve the chance!

That Awkward Moment When…

…you learn that, somehow, you are a misogynist because you are a man who happens to have written three books and are working on three more AND you have a girlfriend that apparently cooks, cleans the house, washes all your clothes, and works full time to support your crack  *cgh* I mean writing habit…

This, of course, leaves out the fact that all three of those books took a year each to write (back to back, while working a full time job and going to school full time), and that, of the next three, at least one of those has been in the works for the last seven years, one of these is just a thought, and the other one is barely started and may not even be released within the next year or two, if ever…and that your girlfriend does not do your cooking, do all the cleaning, wash your clothes, and does not work full time to support you or your crack *cgh* I mean writing habit…

If you’re male, and you’re an author, and you have a girlfriend, or you’re married, you’re probably a misogynist dickhead that exploits and abuses your significant other.  STOP, you sick bastard.  In the words of the woman that approached me today, “You’re mentally ill and you need help.  Your girlfriend is not your slave, and you’re just a lazy jerk.”

Well, she did get the lazy part right.  That’s why that one book has taken the last seven years…

I guess I’ll be spending next week seeking help.

I love the internet…

Welcome to a new friend: An Author and Editor –SLS Oborowsky

Author’s Thought

Writing for those who love to read

Author’s Note

Whether you read a book or magazine, go on the internet and search places, people or things they all take you to somewhere from the comfort of your home. They open you up to a world that may be similar or different from yours. This is my online space, flying with wordpress, to share with you all kinds of things: who I am in fragments, my accomplishments, my photos and anything I find interesting or strange that makes you think about things. It may be serious, some not so serious and some just darned right ridiculous.

writeLike a chef at work, you will see me perform. I will edit before your eyes as I post a share of thought filled with errors crying for perfection. It may not fill your belly but it will fill your heart of the taste of a writer at work. Because I share then edit, revise, and even remove and repost, I may drive you bonkers but do not despair. It is that of a writer, with errors to share and corrections to make. Do keep in mind I am first serving you words of wisdom before the edit as I write from the heart and soul. The life and times of a writer at work.

About Me


There is no “Buy Button” for my books on this blog. I leave the sales to Inkwater Press and other book venders.

My blog is for you to get to know the author behind the story. Visit me here or visit my other blog Books-SLS Oborowsky where I share links to other author’s blogs. Do join us here on If you add me and have a blog, I’m glad to add you back and happy to read your shared interest. If I have not added you, it is because I got a warning from your site, not because I didn’t try.

Even if you do not follow, do visit again and thank you for stopping by.

©all rights reserved

via Author’s Thought – SLS Oborowsky | Writing for those who love to read..

Home » books » Ivy: The Stem of a Rose and Ivy: The Blossoming of a Rose

Ivy: The Stem of a Rose and Ivy: The Blossoming of a Rose

These are my first and second books I ever published. The story tells about a Metis family living off a settlement and the tough challenges that face Ivy growing up with a single mother and two sisters. The story is in the era of the 70′s. With the first book, she is 9. She and her sisters find a pond and begin to swim in it until Ivy’s sisters become ill and one thing leads to another. The second book of Ivy is about her at 17 but fills in some crucial gaps from the first book. I hope you enjoy the story as much as I enjoyed creating it. Ivcover (1000) (722x401)

©all rights reserved

All About Spelling

English spelling depends on the country…


Centre British/Canada
Center US
Litre British/Canada
Realize US/Canada
Realise British
licence British/Canada
license US/Canada
Disc British/Canada
Disk US
Skilful British
Skillful US/Canada
Color US
Colour British/Canada

and the list goes on.


Canada usually takes the British spelling which is the longer spelling even in medical words such as anaesthesia rather than US spelling – anesthesia.

For more visit Spelling style variations

[Terry: Just a side note. The difference between American and English spellings is not accidental. It was seen as an essential part of developing an “American Character” by early activists, like Noah Webster:

The speller was originally titled The First Part of the Grammatical Institute of the English Language. Over the course of 385 editions in his lifetime, the title was changed in 1786 to The American Spelling Book, and again in 1829 to The Elementary Spelling Book. Most people called it the “Blue-Backed Speller” because of its blue cover, and for the next one hundred years, Webster’s book taught children how to read, spell, and pronounce words. It was the most popular American book of its time; by 1837 it had sold 15 million copies, and some 60 million by 1890—reaching the majority of young students in the nation’s first century. Its royalty of a half-cent per copy was enough to sustain Webster in his other endeavors. It also helped create the popular contests known as spelling bees.

Handwritten drafts of dictionary entries by Webster

Slowly, edition by edition, Webster changed the spelling of words, making them “Americanized”. He chose s over c in words like defense, he changed the re to er in words like center, and he dropped one of the Ls in traveler. At first he kept the u in words like colour or favour but dropped it in later editions. He also changed “tongue” to “tung”—an innovation that never caught on.[30]

Part three of his Grammatical Institute (1785) was a reader designed to uplift the mind and “diffuse the principles of virtue and patriotism”.[31]

“In the choice of pieces”, he explained, “I have not been inattentive to the political interests of America. Several of those masterly addresses of Congress, written at the commencement of the late Revolution, contain such noble, just, and independent sentiments of liberty and patriotism, that I cannot help wishing to transfuse them into the breasts of the rising generation.”

‘Hunted’ soon be available in the US… | Emlyn Rees

Hunted’ soon be available in the US…

Cover reveal: here’s how the first Danny Shanklin novel, ‘Hunted’, will be appearing in the US in October with HarperCollins’ hot new crime fiction imprint, Witness:

Feel like getting your order in early? Click right HERE.

via ‘Hunted’ soon be available in the US… | Emlyn Rees.

[Terry:  Oh, did I forget to mention that Emlyn is my editor at Exhibit A?  How careless of me.]

the sound of rushed heartbeats. Lost in each other’s eyes.| Poetry on a Roll

Layers Of Love


The blistering burn
that aches and aches.

Craving slight touches.
Whispering sweet words in ears.
Random kisses.
Hugs in abundance.
Regular phone calls.
Spontaneous texts.
Honest conversations.
Sweet sensations on and off the court.
Short hand-written notes
or long love letters.

Sincere appreciation.
Acceptance without question.
Showing understanding.
Giving simple gifts.
The spectacular sound of laughter.
Holding tingling hands,
fingers entwined.
Cuddling in bed.
Just the sound of rushed heartbeats.
Lost in each other’s eyes.

Copyright © 2013 Kimalee Jones

via Layers Of Love | Poetry on a Roll.

“I guard the darkness” = Catching up with A slice of my life in one piece of the web

Haiku – Gotham Nights

Posted on July 27, 2013 by atothewr

I guard the darkness

While the city sleeps below

Safely in slumber


via Haiku – Gotham Nights | A slice of my life in one piece of the web.

Romance of Five Clouds and Magical Poetry–welcome to a new friend: generaliregi


Enjoy yourself to the full extent but dare not sink in indulgence

via About | generaliregi.


English: African Buffalo in the natural enviro...

English: African Buffalo in the natural environment at the Ngoro Ngoro National Park, Tanzania Lietuvių: Afrikinis arba juodasis buivolas natūralioje aplinkoje Ngoro Ngoro nacionaliniame parke Tanzanijoje (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

ũiru na marakara makaingĩha,

Ta mahira ngoro ĩgatura, kĩnyiria gĩkaraha

ũngĩ ndaringa itherũ na-manyira mĩromo igacuha


Up on the Roof

Up on the Roof (Photo credit: Kris Griffon)

Contemplating in the liberated forest region,

Solders and captains concluded with a common opinion:

‘Lukenya death camp, by night fall, must fall in to oblivion’.

Scouts for intelligence dispatched,

Next, General Mathu schemed for a revolutionary mission.

Assisted in plotting by peerless martial tacticians

Shrewd strategies took form, ideas when converged.

Acting on the carefully crafted plans,

In rows and columns, ranks and files marched for a raid, in groups.

Keeping hidden from the enemy’s savage troops,

Prompt execution of drills proofed decisive and disastrous to the colonial agents;

Surprise attack from all fronts rendered the foe vulnerable in talent.

Opening fire to militias and  imperialists uncircumcised forces,

The General commanded the foe’s armory captured, and political prisoners freed at once;

Hacking and slaying ignorant British barbarians,

Land and Freedom Army at once subdued the arrogant villains;

A role model for all patriotic generations,

General Mohamed Mathu enviable deeds will forever restore our self determination!


English: Comfort in Grief

English: Comfort in Grief (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

An itinerant peddler startles me to wake at noon

Debt on debt of the brew vendors suddenly stirs my mind

How much more can I bear the grievous toils of this hood?

Surprise, dismay, alarm or pity deep and profound

Would show in their looks, with acquaintances of old,

Should we by chance meet again,

in vain friend of old Would sigh, cry and in pain fold,

Their once enviable peer in this deplored state to find steeped in strain;

Do not ask in ridicule, sarcasm, proverbs, and riddles with whom I’ve lost favor

Instead, alleviate my devastating sorrow with bottle on bottle of scented liquor!

[Terry:  The Mau Mau Uprising (also known as the Mau Mau Revolt, Mau Mau Rebellion, Kenya Emergency and ‘Manjeneti (Gîkûyû)) was a military conflict that took place in Kenya between 1952 and 1960. It involved Kikuyu-dominated anti-colonial groups summarily called Mau Mau and elements of the British Army, the local Kenya Regiment mostly consisting of white Kenyans, auxiliaries and anti-Mau Mau Kikuyu.The capture of rebel leader Dedan Kimathi on 21 October 1956 signalled the ultimate defeat of Mau Mau, and essentially ended the British military campaign.[7]
Mau Mau failed to capture widespread public supportpartly due to the British policy of divide and rule, and the movement remained internally divided, despite attempts to unify its various strands.  The British, meanwhile, could draw upon their ongoing efforts to put down another rebellion in Malaya.
The uprising created a rift between the European colonial community in Kenya and the metropole, vbut also resulted in violent divisions within the Kikuyu community.  The financial cost of the uprising to the former colony amounted to £55 million. (Wikipeia)]

A Poem About Me–Catching up with Kira Woodsbury

My Pen, My Sword

Etheree: the ME i see


Just me
Wanna be
The me I see
The quirks that are me
My shortcomings that be
The odd behaviors I see
The past mistakes that make me, me
All of these are part of who I be
I am learning to love the me I see

© 2013 Kira Woodsbury, all rights reserved
Photo Credit:

Click here for the details for this poetry form.

The 411: This is all about me learning to love myself…mistakes and all. I wanted to use a rhyming scheme with the repetition of “me, be, see.” The incorrect grammar was used on purpose to represent the “flaws” that are a part of me. Incorrect use of “be” grates on my nerves which is exactly what my flaws do to me emotionally! It was a verbal way to let others experience that “argh” feeling with me.

via Etheree: the ME i see | My Pen, My Sword.

Remembrance | Poesy plus Polemics


Posted by Paul F. Lenzi on July 16, 2013

dusk strolls forwardPhoto from
from under the treeline
across the town green
stirring fireflies
skittering up from the grass
pulsing flickers like quick-stitches
tacking the chaotic drape
of the night to the scene
veiling cannon and names
of dead soldiers on plaques
fixed to monolith stones
bringing sleep to the pride
of un-uniformed strangers
whose flowers and flaglets
pay too-easy gratitude
the essence of honor
forgetting the duty
imposed on the living
to cherish the values
that animate sacrifice
will morning remember?

Photo from

via Remembrance | Poesy plus Polemics.

Hey Sweetheart We Get Rewrites

Something Wicked This Way Comes – Boing Boing

Something Wicked This Way Comes

Taking its title from one of the spookiest quotes in all of Shakespeare, Ray Bradbury’s Something Wicked This Way Comes is a true classic.

Something wicked this way comes

First published in 1962, Bradbury’s tale illuminates the damage done when once seeks to reach their dreams unearned. When Cooger and Dark’s Pandemonium Storm Show comes to Green Town, Jim Nightshade and Will Halloway are immediately swept up in dark chaos. Cooger and Dark are using their twisted carnival to fulfill the secret dreams of local townspeople, binding them in service to the carnival.

Most interesting to me is Charles Halloway’s struggle and realization he does not need to change to be the parent he feels Will deserves, simply by accepting himself he is able to save his son and town.

Magic Tree in the Cold Winter Night with Dark ...

I am so happy to have re-read this. I wonder how old my daughter will have to be, before I read it to her?

Ray Bradbury’s Something Wicked This Way Comes

via Something Wicked This Way Comes – Boing Boing.

welcome to a new friend: Melonie Ann –Melonie’s Poetic Life

Melonie’s Poetic Life


I am an aspiring writer and poet who has been writing since I was fourteen years old and am now ready to share my words with the world.

I hope that my experiences and words help those who read them find their own voice and unleash their creativity.

English: Map showing the location of Attawapis...

A bit more about me ..

I am 37 years old, live in Northern Ontario Canada – happily married. We have a black lab named Shadow – who is our fur baby. He is 8 years old this April..

My interests besides poetry and writing are:

Melonie’s Poetic Life | A topnotch site.

Search for..

This would be a dream come true to own so many books ...

This would be a dream come true to own so many books …

Drawn to the building standing so tall

What are the secrets hidden away after all

What is the voice that beckons to me now

So curious to find out somehow

Through the doors I enter with curiosity

Wondering what stories will unfold in front of me

Drawn to the area I take my seat at the table quietly

Searching through articles and sites to see what I stumble upon

My worries have escaped me, my frustrations gone

My hands type the words freely with ease

The knowledge I am gaining make me feel pleased

Time escapes me and suddenly I am told “5 minutes to go”

Carefully I pack my work again and tuck away the knowledge I now know

War Torn Lives

Raptured by war
Rebels overtook
Clawed and torn apart
Death a familiar foe
Ashes instead of homes
Stranded – some escape
Not all make it alive
Woman and children
Captured for slavery
Obey or die!
Tortured and raped
Half Beaten to Death!
Silence or Consequence
Cries and screams
No one hears their silent pleas!
Unknown faces no one sees
Stories untold and forgotten
Precious and troubled souls
Endangered by our ignorance

 [Terry:  Wow. That last poem has a real punch. Nicely done!]

Welcome to a new friend: shellywv – Gravatar Profile


I write poetry quite a bit to put things into perspective for myself. Many of which I’ve never shared with anyone. I am ready to share my thoughts. I am ready to be open. I am ready to move on in the next chapter in my life. Thank you for reading my inner most thoughts. Enjoy.

via shellywv – Gravatar Profile.

(Terry: Shelly Dear. This is all very nice and I ADORE your inner most thoughts but, you know, if you actually had a Blog where I could read some of them it would be a lot easier than telepathy. ]

Welcome to a new friend: kceddz | Words unspoken.

Words unspoken.

The voice rambling in my head.

Just putting it out there…

I’m really grateful there are no mind readers.

Or are there? *Dramatic close up*

A misfit

She sat all alone on the old wavering bench behind the building where she now lives, and took a deep breath. The sky was turning gray, heavy with clouds waiting to be spilled, and the wind was blowing stronger by the minute. Perfect. This means she’ll have the park to herself.
This place has become her hiding spot, where she’d run away from too much social interaction.
Though she didn’t understand how it was always so empty, does no one else in the whole dorm like to come here? Even though the place is ruins, it’s still a beautiful scene. Seems like the others don’t have a problem in being surrounded by people all day long, don’t they get tired?
She feels exhausted just spending her classes with people.
Ahh, she thought coming to university would change everything, but let’s face it; once a misfit, always a misfit. And here it seems even more obvious that she doesn’t get along with her “friends”. It’s like she’s on a whole different frequency than every body else.
Oh well, that’s fine really. She likes being alone for a while, listening to music none of her friends listens to and reading books they would never read.

via A misfit | Words unspoken..

Empty walls.

She sat in her new room, her mind blank as she stared at empty walls she was planning on filling with cool poster she was never going to buy, and drawings she was going to be too lazy to draw.

This could work! she thought. she would have a lot of fun here. going out to cafes and shopping with her friends.

sadly, her closest friends weren’t that type.

If only she had her sister with her. they would have so much fun. but that will have to wait another year, if not two.

Surly there was someone out there she could get along with.

maybe they were wondering about her too, at that moment.

but, that would never happen if she didn’t widen her circle, and get to know new people.

That’s the only way she was going to find out if she were meant to walk this earth alone. okay that was really dramatic, even for her.

It didn’t bother her much that she didn’t have a best friend, most of the time.

what bothered her was that she was not a genius or an artist or a writer. she had no excuse to be this way.

If she had some special talent it would be understandable that she didn’t socialise much and have many friends. you know, play the tortured soul card. but she wasn’t a tortured soul. she was a stupid, time wasting, bad-book-reading, good-music-listening (My  taste in music rocks, ehem), idiot.

Things had to change.

[Terry: I was considering putting up some pictures but, then I read all about the “empty walls” and “empty parks” and got too depressed.]

Backpack Bradie

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