I am a seasoned hospitality professional and aspiring writer. I especially love poetry and experimenting with different styles. My inspiration comes from personal life events and I am known to root for the "underdog." I am 49 years young.
Autumn: You Run Through My Mind All Year Long
Autumn: you run through my mind all year long Lost miles in rubber burned joggers each day Picturesque in ember, I shall belong
A Pair of Black Cats
Many moons ago, in a suburb of Pennsylvania, there once lived an intriguing pair of black cats. Matilda and Mildred were the only survivors in a litter of ten, born of a sickly mother. Matilda, the oldest by three minutes, was long and lean, quick-witted and agile. Unfortunately, she also had a bit of an attitude problem and was abrupt with her words. Mildred, on the other hand, was short and stout, solid and sentimental. She could chat for hours, loving meaningful conversation.
It's Time to Stop Dancing Around the Subject
Nylah threw back her third shot of fireball while her best friend, Yasmine, continued to flirt with the bartender. Yasmine tossed her long lavender-dyed coils over her bare shoulders as she leaned in closer to the handsome young fellow mixing drinks. Her white tube-top left little to the imagination as her cleavage peeked over like mountain summits. But of course, she knew what she was doing, and the man was happy to oblige.
The Last Sunflower
I can still feel the energy surging through my veins in a fireball explosion as a sheet of blue electricity struck down from the heavens immobilizing me. I will never forget the smell of my long black hair singeing at the tips or the sight of a smoke bomb escaping every threaded inch of my clothing. An eternity of torture amassed in moments yet I survived. Physically, I escaped with burns only to my palms. Mentally, my brains were fried and scrambled like freshly cut potatoes sizzling in oil and my morning eggs prepared just the way I like them. A decade ago, this was my ascending orchestrated by The Creator calling me to rise for the sake of humanity.
Who Is She?
A sweet little girl smiled at me this morning Beaming from ear to ear with such radiance She stirred up feelings of safety and warmth Likened to shelter of any welcoming home * Although a stranger, I could not shake her My heart yearning for answers questioned Of all people in this world, why this child? Something was familiar yet still out of place * Leaving me with the a weighted burden And an unanswered question: Who is she? * Perhaps it was her golden spun pigtails Gentle spirals bouncing off her shoulders Soft and spongey like shortcake springing Back after a gentle push with one finger * Her coils reminded me of my childhood Mornings, wakening, leaping out of bed Bounding to the television set greeting Bugs Bunny & all his Looney Tune pals * Memories of a savory taste yet unfulfilled Starving to still understand: who is she? * Maybe it was her hazel eyes swirling Jade & coffee tones speckling bronze Her eyes were twins to my very own But hers were a widened revelation * Water encircled each iris overflowing Like a river feeding an ocean of dreams Two twinkling stars shining her emotions She held an ever gaze of wonder & surprise * Seeing her so clearly ignited my smoldering coals A burning desire; innate, to know: Who is she? * Perchance, it was her incorruptibility A tender age of innocence exploring All options without resistance or fear Oblivious to all judgement or rejection * Her soul was free and most willing Not shrouded in shame or confined Instead, poised & buoyantly soaring To heights often avoided with age * Her ambiance struck a buried chord in me Recovered notes responding to" who is she”? * A sweet little girl smiled at me this morning At first sight she was just a pleasant stranger Inviting me to know her better prompting Another look into my mirror to fairly reflect * She sat there staring back at me urging Me to remember; once again connect Too many years passed by dismissing The inner child in me longing for freedom * A promise to let her play releasing repression Reunited me with the she who is in fact, me!
I shall ask one question you must ponder How can sunsets cause sight to become blurred? Morrow's sunrise offers you fresh wonder
To Pick an Oxeye Daisy
May you always recall the day we met Mid month in June; my skies were so hazy Of all flowers blooming, you could beget You only saw me; an oxeye daisy
Woman of Rainbows (Shamanic Journey)
I am Woman of Rainbows This is my Shamanic journey * I close my eyes falling fast asleep Completely aware of my dream state