Making Changes

Source of Inspiration


What will it take
to make you see your’re
at the edge right now?
Like an angry bull
you kick and buck
never seeing that
what you’re doing
makes things worse.

There are times in our lives
when we must stop
this forward crash course
we’ve set, and think
about what we can
do instead. Too often
we blame others, even God
unwilling to see what role
we play, always
the victim to the end.

Start by being quiet
still, in expectation.
Think of one thing
you can change to turn
the situation around.
Each time you do this
you take control of your life
creating it as you wish it to be.

Take time each day
to go within, to ask for
guidance, to be grateful
for what you have.
In time, you will find
a better way
to live a life
of serenity.

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I Won’t Grow Up!

Visit Pat’s blog for more great posts.

Source of Inspiration

Looking under mushrooms
Gazing at the stars
Twirling spaghetti strands
Flying on dragons
I am a 70-year-old Peter Pat
who still knows that a child’s
world has more reality than
that occupied by adults.

Hey! Where’s Tinkerbell?

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Devotional Battlegrounds

Heartstring Eulogies

“Surviving isn’t just about
learning its price and paying for it.
It’s about fighting through it,
even when all hope is lost.”

Maybe the most interesting part about us is how devoted we are to each other. Not because we aren’t kindred spirits with hearts that still know how to bleed and fill up with a limitless supply of love. But like we were forged on the ground of a battlefield, still simmering with smoke and the coppery scent of blood lingering in the air. And I suppose in some ways, that’s exactly what happened. We learned to fight for our lives when we were supposed to be children, laughing and playing beneath the sunlight. We learned the price of survival early. It wasn’t pretty. Surviving never is. But a little agony is worth it if it means we will pull through. And that is what keeps me going.


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Still Beating

I love Sarah’s writing.❤

Heartstring Eulogies

“I still feel you in my heart.
And I know, my heart still beats for you.”

Maybe, when we are finally
beneath the same moon,
the cards will change
in our favor.
Maybe, when the timing
is right, we’ll find our way
back to one another.
And maybe. Just maybe,
when we move beyond
this life, we will still
find each other.
But most of all, for now,
I just wish your life
is filled with happiness
in my absence.
Because even on the
blackest of nights,
I still feel you in my heart.
And I know, my heart
still beats for you.

Maybe it’s the maybes
that are eating me alive.

© Sarah Doughty

Perhaps one day,
this wall between us
will crumble beneath
its foundation.

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Darkness Swallowed Me Whole and Spit Me Back Out Again

The Bipolar Writer Mental Health Blog

September is National Suicide Prevention Awareness Month

I will be writing a post a day about suicide prevention and awareness on my blog

My Loud Bipolar Whispers

for my campaign

Remember in September.

Prevent Suicide Yesterday.

Today May Be Too Late.

This is a post on my blog describing the meaning behind the title of my campaign.

 Back to my current post…

Darkness Swallowed Me Whole and Spit Me Back Out Again 

Because I started researching information about suicide prevention awareness and looking at old posts I wrote, it awakened thoughts and feelings of the past causing me to become more in touch with my past emotions and feelings of depression and severe mental illness pain.

Those feelings will always be a part of me. I will never forget what I have survived over many years of my life. This is not a bad thing, but is a blessing instead. It is always a…

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Bewildered: Gray Walls with Boxes

lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown

Gray Walls with Boxes

Once I knew words that fit together.
Now my mind still has the answers,
but rarely lets me in to find them.

People who seem to know me
bring pizza in a box
and we eat it in front of another box I’ve forgotten the name for––
a small world with other people moving in it that I don’t know.
Sometimes words appear in a ribbon on the bottom edge of that box
and I wonder if I understood them
if they ‘d tell me what I’m supposed to do.

On the walls are other flat boxes
with people frozen in them
and I think it is my fault.
There is something I am supposed to be doing.
There is something I am supposed to be doing.
“They are your pictures, Mother.
They’re there for decoration—
for you to enjoy,”
a woman tells me
when I…

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October Blues

Women Who Think Too Much by Jeanne Marie


October blues appear out of sync amidst the brilliant reds and golds
watching the leaves change as this heart remains heavy and cold.
Fiery burning colors, so bright they make my head spin
while my eyes smile at the show, my heart refuses to join in.
This time last year, snapping pictures with childlike abandon
dashing from tree to tree from river to mountain to canyon.
That child has been banished, her spirit broken and blue
running from memories that whisper; girl, it was never true.

Jeanne Marie, 2016

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From The Reluctant Poet a emotion packed poem.

The Reluctant Poet

By Charles Robert Lindholm

There Are Times
Late At Night,
In The Darkness,
Or At Dawn’s First Light

When I Miss You,
More Than The Everyday
All The Time Missing You,
I Usually Feel

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if you are going ~

I love this poem from TORNADODAY


take me with
if you are going
somewhere closer to the sun –
where a lonely ache
for living
shall carry us
as one

a story
not yet written –
bears the memory of change
so I’ll hold your hand
for whatever truth

let it keep
beyond the leaving
for all the world to see
how it was
the path remembered
as you waited time
for me

. . .

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Absolutely beautiful…

The Reluctant Poet

By Keza/Spiritedsoul And Charles Robert Lindholm – The Reluctant Poet

How Did I
Not Know
You Possessed
The Coldest Heart?

Your Sweet Words
Deceived Me
With Promises,
Tempting Me
To Believe

Your Fiery Passion,
Your Hungry Hands,
And Wild Desires,
And Lies About Love,
Hid The Truth

No Words Of Love
Or Warm Embrace
Will Erase
What I Have Learned,

I Am, No Longer A Fool

Your Words
Are Barbed Wire Kisses
That Cut Me
To The Quick
And Leave
Me In Tears,

My Punishment
For Trusting You

I Seek Refuge
In The Darkest Corner
Of My Soul,
The Safest Place To Sit,
Far Away From You

Where I Can Wonder,
And Plan My Escape,
Into A Life
That Once Again
Is Mine

Copyright © 2020 Keza/Spiritedsoul And Charles Robert Lindholm – The Reluctant Poet
All Rights Reserved – 09-04-2020 – 11:30 a.m.

Thanks so much to Keza for…

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Guilt and Caregiving
Beautiful and sad. Incredible writing. ❤

God's Grace and Life's Challenges

Guilt. It seems to be an ever present shadow in this journey of caregiving and grieving.

Some people seem to be able to say, “I’ve done all I can do.” And stop and feel okay. Maybe I have a better imagination, or a more developed guilt complex, but I can pretty much always think of something more I could do, or should do, or could’ve or should’ve done.

I was talking to a friend at church a month ago, and she was expressing regrets and guilt about having her mom in a nursing home. She said she never wanted to have one of her loved ones in such a place again.

And I told her, “Hey, we kept my mom at home her whole life, and I still feel guilty that I didn’t do enough.” And this is after years of giving her showers, changing her, cleaning their house and…

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Friends I’ve Never Met

Penny Wilson Writes

I’ve been blogging off and on now for 6 plus years.  In that time, I’ve seen bloggers come and go.  I’ve done the same thing.  There has been times when my blog went cold for months and at other times I’ve written every day.

If you spend much time on WordPress, you get to know a person’s writing style.  There are bloggers I seek out, if I don’t happen to see them in my Reader Feed, because I especially enjoy their blog.

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The Baby Hummer Who Crashed Into Glass!
Awesomeness in action. I love Cindy’s pictures and words. Her blog is a little bit of Heaven.


While busy reading your blogs, there was a very loud thwanking noise on the French doors next to me. I got up to see what it was and there was a juvenile hummingbird on the ground about 6 inches from the door. He was trembling violently and his right-wing was fully extended as if broken. I immediately closed one of your blogs (sorry about that) and googled what to do with a hummingbird who hits a window and breaks a wing. There was all sorts of advice from, “forget it he’s a goner,” to “pick him up and put his beak into the feeder,” to “pick him up and put him in a shoebox with a soft cloth and take him to an animal rescue provider.”
I didn’t like any of these suggestions. A juvenile hummingbird weighs less than a dime. I am like Gulliver the giant in the land…

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Artistic Insights #writephoto

tales told different

Maybe you can show me
Maybe then I can know
Why my spirit wails
Why I feel tired
Worn by the trials of this life
Why I can’t see the good
Without remembering the bad
Maybe if you try
You can show me who I am

1940 Joan Miro

Paint me
Colour my soul
Curve out all emotion
Weave your hand and splay my essence
Draw deep
Show my sparkle and shade my gloom
Turn me round, see it all
Joys and despairs


Gray abstract artist
Dispassionate in your ways
Perceptive to all
Crafting cubes with multiple views
Deep fears and aching desires

Sean Safarlou

My soul falls upon the canvas
Now I can see through the rain
Now I can see me

“The rain blinds while clearing sight” 6word story

I hope you enjoy this,


Reena’s exploration challengecubism
Sue’s writephoto promptworn

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Heartstring Eulogies

“Is it too much to ask for a little
courage to know, without a doubt,
that everything is okay?
That is the courage I need.”

This was the moment that would make me. Or it would break me. I wasn’t sure, but it felt like I was doomed from the start. Even now, years later, I’m still waiting for that shoe to drop. For this world to come crumbling down and leave me broken on my knees in surrender. So I look up at all those shimmering lights in the night sky and beg for a little solace. For the briefest of moments when all feels right in the world. Is it too much to ask for a little courage to know, without a doubt, that everything is okay? That there’s no demons of mine waiting to blindside me? That is the courage I need.

© Sarah Doughty


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Guest Author: Mark Bierman ~ Vanished

Sue Vincent's Daily Echo

Today I wish to take some time to promote my novel, Vanished. Now, I must be honest with you, I never thought I’d write a story about human trafficking

 How it all began and why:

My father was a building contractor and had been to the impoverished nation of Haiti a number of times. He would assist with the construction of homes, churches, and a few other projects. His return meant amazing stories and disturbing photos of tiny shanties where families lived, in cramped quarters, without running water or electricity.  In fact, often, there were open streams of raw sewage that ran close to these squalid huts.

In October of 2010, my brother-in-law accompanied my father to decimated post-earthquake Haiti. Yes, you guessed it, another construction project.

“Oh, take a journal with you and write in it every day,” I instructed them. “I want to write an article for…

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Much time has passed since I came to this place
I hear names I know but the people have gone
I remember times past and the peace I knew then
My soul yearns to build a new world from the old

I hear names I know but the people have gone
There in the sioil my ancestors lie
My soul yearns to build a new world from the old
But is it too late for my time will soon come

There in the soil my ancestors lie
Their graves are unkempt for nobody cared
Is it too late for my time will soon come
The party is over and everyone’s gone

Their graves are unkempt for nobody cared
For the lives that were lived and the deeds that were done
The party is over and everyone’s gone
But the place is not empty for my memory lives on

For the…

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lines I never wrote ~



from time to time
I reminisce
o’er lines
I never wrote
truths I dared not share
tho no less true
longing spilled to pages
meant for gentle eyes –
an open heart
with space enough
for two

worthless rhyme
you know me now –
with nothing
left to say
poems stacked in boxes
cupboards tight
love betrayed to silence
grieves the dying word –
an empty page
and evermore
to write

. . .

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writing out loud.

I didn't have my glasses on....

(not me, but we could easily pass as sisters)

for some reason

after almost 8 years of blogging

and never questioning it

I only recently discovered

what the word ‘blog’ actually means. 

Blog is another word for weblog.

A weblog is a website that is like a diary or journal. …

Bloggers often write about their opinions and thoughts.

A blog containing video material is called a video blog or video log,

usually shortened to vlog.

“Blogging is to writing what extreme sports are to athletics: more free-form, more accident-prone, less formal, more alive. It is, in many ways, writing out loud.” For most of human history, all published writing had been carefully inspected, edited, and approved. In the last decade, blogging has turned the publishing world on its head. A blog allows you to write and publish anything, from anywhere, and have it be immediately available to billions…

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