I’ve been writing humorous poetry since I was a wee girl at me Irish grandmother’s knee… she’d chuckle and get on with baking her apple sugar pies and then winding her blue rosary around her gnarled fingers, praying, ‘What’s the lass going to come to with these ditties?’
Novels, mostly historicals these days and I’m finishing up a second Paris WW 2 novel while pulling all-nighters… I needed a break, so here’s a lighthearted poem about everyone’s favorite frog from this Irish Poetess.
Put the kettle on and Enjoy!
The art of writing fairy tales
is a joy I claim.
But frog or toad, what’s in a name?
’Tis a prince I seek at the end of my tale
And that happily ever after, but to no avail
Ah, but yes have I the power of the pen
So with my snappy keystrokes Poof! I say.
He’s here. Amen!
Here the first in my Occupied Paris series:
The Resistance Girl
Juliana discovers her grandmamma was a famous French film star in Occupied Paris
And the shocking secret her mother never told her…
5* ‘… a beautiful and poignant historic fiction that left me in tears’ Jessica F NetGalley
Not What It Seems
Memories swirl in the air around my head.
Light flashes and flickers illuminating my thoughts.
Emotions spread a warm blanket over me and shield me
from the wind.
Joy dances around my feet.
Worries scurry away.
It seems I’m just raking leaves.
But I’m really counting my blessings, one by one.
See you next time on December 22nd!
I had planned to have completed the third post in my “How to Maximize the SEO Potential of your Website Images” this month, but things got a bit derailed for me when my mom’s health took a turn.
Instead, I found myself sitting in her nursing home room with lots of family and nurses coming and going at all hours. Even though I lugged my backpack back and forth, I never pulled out my laptop. I couldn’t write. No quiet, no time, and my mind was just mush.
How did I come up with this post, then?
I rented a car to drive home and had over 6 hours by myself. So I made good use of the time with my handy voice recorder in my Notes APP where I preceded to share my thoughts about all that happened.
I’d talk until I had nothing, then turn up the radio and sing a song. Then more would pop in my head and I’d talk some more. There was a lot. I hope to edit it and share it some day, but right now it’s pretty raw.
And once I got all my thoughts about my ailing parent and all that comes with this chapter of my life expended, my mind started to open up on my work in progress, and blog posts, and ideas for social media, and….I think you get the idea.
Remember, I had six hours.
And I probably could’ve used more.
It was green. And small. And quite cute. It made me smile, which was good because I needed to balance out the tears that kept flowing every time I thought about my mom and all that transpired.
The rental car guy even joked that no one should hit me because they couldn’t see me.
I found myself wanting to have good driving behavior because I was the only green car on the road.
I stood out.
When I stopped for a snack, I smiled. Whenever I changed lanes, I smiled. When I stopped for gas….yep, I smiled.
I find a smile leads to a grateful heart. And I am immensely grateful to have had my mom in my life for as long as I did. Yes, my mom is no longer with us, her body no longer mangled and in pain. And she is finally reunited with Jesus and my dad. And that makes me grateful, which makes me smile. Or maybe it’s the other way around. It makes me smile and then I feel grateful. Both ways work for me.
I wanted to share a poem I wrote last year in her honor. It’s all written in one syllable words, which was quite fun to put together.
To be a mom is hard work. More than I thought it would be.
It was not till I was in the role, did I know by how much.
The trials. The hurt I take on for my child. The times I have to stay strong.
Now that I know, I want to say thank you to my mom.
For all she did. For all she gave. For the love she gave me.
Her words were kind, she backed me up when I had tough days.
She taught me how to read my bible and pray.
Her love meant more than just words to me.
She poured her heart and life into all I did.
She had pluck, pep and punch. She shared in my joys and woes.
She was there for me through it all.
She told me I made her proud to be my mom.
She held my hand. She hugged me and told me she loved me. I didn’t doubt it one bit. I knew.
My mom did cool things. She was fun. She showed up to all my acts and cheered me on.
I was in awe of her and looked to be like her when I grew up.
I hope I am.
She told me she loved me, hugged me, prayed with me.
She is my mom and I love her. And I hope she knows how much I thank her each day.
Thank you, Mom
Love you Mom.
by Jina Bacarr
We writers are notorious for writing in our pajamas and bathtubs au naturel…
And we love to give our heroines a killer wardrobe…and those stilettos, wow!
But what about her underwear?
You’ve heard of the red shoes…why not the red bra?
When I found this ultra sexy photo on www.Dreamstime.com, I knew I had to write a poem about a lady’s obsession with her underwear…
The Red Bra
Intrigued am I by underwear
A subject we donâ€™t often dare
We wiggle and shake, squeeze and tug
Hoping our lover will not shrug
But search for his prize
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