Grrrl Chillin

Grrrl Chilling Studio by J.A. Kauppinen

As I sit down to write this #MondayBlog today, I realize I am late. However, I won’t worry about that. I’m getting one in long before Tuesday, which makes me happy. Speaking of joy, I feel good today. Why am I happy, you ask? Especially when: There are 540 fires burning in my province and, even in Vancouver, the air quality is BC’s worst in history and the worst in the world. I am stuck indoors in hot temperatures (no air con) because I don’t want to risk endangering my health any more than it already is. I would love…

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My Feisty Writing Challenge

Hi everyone! Yes, I’ve been silent most of this year but it was not due to a lack of care or concern for my goals and those of my friends (reading and book reviews).  That will never change. I will spare you that, except to say that there was a death in my family early in the year. This reignited my depression, which compounded problems with my health. However, I will not let that define or claim me. What matters is that I rededicated myself to the work which consumes my heart and soul.  Writing! I joined two Facebook groups–#500words…

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My Loneliness. Embraced? New Blog Post from Terry Gibson

Loneliness is the certainty that I have felt that way right down to my core for most of my life. It didn’t matter in whose company I was at any given time. It is seeing the child molesters, cheats, liars, and otherwise bad people in my family, thrive and live in comfort into their old age–while I could face homelessness and utter poverty in an aberrant heartbeat. Loneliness is realizing that being a good person—which matters to me–does not change reality or guarantee a thing. It does not mean everything is going to work out all right.  Although I choose…

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After A While – Veronica A. Shoffstall

After A While After a while you learn the subtle difference between holding a hand and chaining a soul and you learn that love doesn’t mean leaning and company doesn’t always mean security. And you begin to learn that kisses aren’t contracts and presents aren’t promises and you begin to accept your defeats with your head up and your eyes ahead with the grace of woman, not the grief of a child and you learn to build all your roads on today because tomorrow’s ground is too uncertain for plans and futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight….

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The Buck – Susanna Rich

  When I was ten, Grandmother told me to get her stuffed when she died like the buck head by the door catching webs of evil in his antlers.   She was to be seated in the living room on the sofa (or chair, our choice), facing the piano where I would play Brahms, Liszt and Chopin.   Her eyes were to be open (maybe a little touch of glass, for sparkle) and looking upwards (slightly to the right) like St. Theresa or Sebastian pierced with arrows,   her hands–demurely covered in white lace fingerless gloves– propped holding the dome…

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The Sound of My Name – Dily Morris

Over and over I call her back to me– her flowered bathrobe with pink trim around the collar glasses a little crooked hair wispy white. Scuffing blue terrycloth slippers she turns toward me, grasping the counter edge for balance, and speaks my name with more love than anyone ever squeezed into one word. Over and over I listen to the sound of my name– the memory of her, speaking my name.   Dily Morris

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Five Things That Make Me Proud

  Despite life obstacles that make Mt. Everest look like a speed bump, I found my way and continue to use a checks-and-balances approach to life. Even with the focus that takes, which I slip up on sometimes, I seem to have fashioned a career of sorts for myself, thanks to my laptop. The fact that it involves words and writing is absolute heaven to me.   I ran away and never went back, when I was in Grade ten, so only I motivated myself to stay in school, which provided a necessary structure for me. My wish to learn…

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The Last Time I Tell This Story

This is the last time I will tell this story. I need my mother’s love. I knew this all of my life and It is still true today. I need my mother’s love. She was beautiful and I would have told her so if I wasn’t so afraid she’d hit me. I need my mother’s love. I didn’t like Ice Capades but I would’ve joined her to watch a show about Barbara Ann Scott, her favourite skater. I need my mother’s love. When she scooped me up in her arms after Dad kicked over the coffee table and scalded me…

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Denial

  The instant the enormity of your suffering, of your spirit deflating, Crashed  against Incalculable skies — I knew I hadn’t been listening.   Terry Gibson 1993. ************ The poems from this year were written when I attended UBC’s Creative Writing Department. While I was doing what I loved, my oldest brother’s sudden death–within one and a half years of my Dad–sent me spiralling into a deep depression. Given that, I’d love to hear from people on something. Do you see images in this? Anything? I’m trying to tap into my poetic self but am struggling. It helps to know that…

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