Sunday, October 26, 2014



I was going through my journal today and found several quotes that I would like to share.  Some are anonymous, some not. I try to memorize them but I am not having much luck at that. Good thing I write them down!


A “soft” day. The Irish use the expression to describe a day that is misty and grey. What a beautiful way to use the word.

“If you cheat, may you cheat death.”
“If you steal, may you steal a woman’s’ heart.”
“If you fight, may you fight for a brother.”
“And If you drink, may you drink with me.” Anonymous

“The less you talk, the more people think about your words.” Anonymous

“The soul is born old but grows young. That is the comedy of life. The body is born young and grows old. That is the tragedy of life.”    Oscar Wilde

“I like you. Your eyes are full of language.”  Anne Sexton

“Sometimes you have to kind of die inside in order to rise from the ashes and believe in yourself, and love yourself, to become a new person.”  Gerard Way

“I will either terrify you or amuse you.”    Random Writer

” To be too large for worry, too noble for anger, too strong for fear, and too happy to permit the presence of trouble.”    Christian D. Larsen


“Light is not always innocent nor dark always wrong in heart.”   Anonymous


“Submitted for your approval…….”    Rod Serling, The Twilight Zone

adieu….until next time

Friday, October 17, 2014

Excerpt from The Oracle Ophelia

Do blogs always have to be about something real? I was wondering because I would like to share a short piece of my book. It just went on the market at the end of June. So far sales are p-o-o-r! but, I have faith.

It's a fantasy, or is it? Dark and light battling out as they have since time began, since Cain killed Abel. Darkness resides in all of us as does light. Which rules you? The darkness is strong right now. We need the light for if not, the consequences are dire. Look up, look inside, look around and fill yourself with the light awaiting to help you sustain.


The wind began to rise and dark clouds covered the moon. Soon the curtains were tangling in the howling wind as lightning crashed and thunder boomed. The sleeping Ophelia made no effort to rise while her spirit watched with intense, unemotional eyes. A void without light appeared suddenly at the foot of her bed. Her mind’s eye watched it slowly take form. Emerging from the tempest, his darkness visible and foul, was Ophedius. He did not know she watched him step next to her sleeping figure. She had never spoken to or seen the Lord of Darkness, but her spirit recoiled at the depravity emanating from the pulsing void. She hesitated to acknowledge his presence, fearing it would only increase his power, but as she watched the vile creature reach to touch her sleeping face, she could hold her voice no longer.

 "Do not dare to touch me.” Her voice was frozen, throaty, hanging heavy in the air. 
The black lord stopped mid-movement, looking to find the source of the disembodied voice. His expression became quizzical when he could find none. “Well, your strength grows, my dear. To what do I owe the honor of you addressing me?” He peered around the room as he spoke, watching the sleeping Ophelia closely, making sure it was not a bit of trickery. 

“I have no fear of you, Ophedius. Leave me. There is no place for you here.” She watched the confusion on the doughy face grow more complex. The storm was subsiding and the clouds began to pull away from the moon, allowing silver light to pierce the gloom. 

The essence of darkness wavered. He did not have the power to sustain on Abysmal. “I will leave you, my dear, but with a reminder that I was here.” Slowly, he bent and placed a kiss upon her breast, where her heart lay beneath.

available at Amazon and BarnesandNoble - online only

Saturday, September 20, 2014

Gram and Grid Kids Football

I have two daughters. I have no sons but yet I do. I have two  grandsons with whom I have a wonderful relationship. They are funny, clever, excited about life and learning. However, suddenly I find them on scooters, bicycles, skateboards, and of course, video games. When did this happen? What happened to binkies?
Today I watched my baby grandsons play their third football game of the season. I enjoy football. I understand the game and its quirks. However with the little ones it is different, somewhat. I have heard stories of parents yelling at coaches, spittle flying from their rage, over a play or penalty they disagreed with. I think that’s foolish and childish. That said, I have found myself yelling from the stands various epitaphs about the plays. I hold my breath at the end of the play for fear that one of “my” boys have been hurt. So far, so good, but Gram is going to get in trouble if she doesn’t quit yelling, “holding!” “fumble!” and so forth. I’m not sure if the passion is the game or whose playing it. Don’t be silly, of course I know that the passion is for my grandsons.
Grid Kids needs to be acknowledged for their diligence and dedication to these small boys and their personal growth. There biggest concern is safety, the second team cohesiveness with winning coming somewhere behind. My grandsons are no longer babies. They are young boys who will soon be young men. Their raising has been exceptional. I can say this freely for the coach told my daughters that the boys were not “mean” enough. They are to kind the coach said. Hmmm….. Well, they are getting the game down after a month ofpractice and three games. They are 2-1 and frankly I am quite proud.
I am working on my yelling during the game. It’s not because I don’t want to, it’s because I don’t want to embarrass my grandchildren in front of their team or undermine the authority of the coach. It doesn’t keep me from mumbling under my breath, “false start”, “facemask” etc. You can, however, expect me to be at every game supporting the boys. Who knows? They may excel and become pro’s. But then again, they may not. Although they will come away with a sense of self-worth, improved self-esteem, self-pride and hopefully a love of teamwork. If this be so, they will be successful  in all they do. I probably will yell about that too!

Friday, September 12, 2014

Do You Hear Me?

do you?........really hear?  does anybody realy hear......or listen.   Dream....mine or we care?  do we care or is it a we can say we're doing something..

do I want my space?...would it be empty without you or to full when you're here?  Perhaps you feel the same of me.

no youthful passion, no purpose just posts that lean on each other. if one falls, well.........

tick goes the passing of time. why do i feel young in a body that won't respond, that has a face i do not know, whose hair is much lighter than the brown i've always known?

life is too lonely...too many people don't care....except the one whose been here for more of my life than not. who treats me as a queen....who i try not to take advantage of.

too many years with to think of being without.

until next time.......

Wednesday, August 27, 2014


I must apologize for being so long in writing. It seems I have developed a deep aversion to the written word. That is certainly not something a writer likes to experience.

I have had a book published and am in the process of marketing it. I can tell you that writing the darn thing was the easiest part. Now I have to promote it. It's frustrating, exasperating, futile. At least from this view.

The copies have arrived. I started reading it as an actual book, skipped through a good portion of  it and went to the end. I couldn't finish it. Found it elementary with too many errors. I see now why some actors never watch there own work. It is inevitable it will be found lacking. That said, I have no idea if it is a good book or not. During the writing process I was sure it was. Now that assurance is on shaky ground.

I did not write the story expecting to become rich. I did not write it for fame. I wrote it because I wanted to. When it was done I was adrift. My fantasy friends had gone, their mission accomplished. Nothing to occupy the mind or hands. I fell into depression and did mindless things on the computer. I decided the only cure was to continue the story. Well, that sounds easy enough, but it's not.

I have discard several general plots, keeping parts of this and that. Looking at new things and reacquainting myself with some old ones in the hopes of sparking an idea. Thinking, always thinking of what could happen, what could be said. My depression left, my purpose was back.

It's a good shot that I will remain obscure and end my days with a monumental collection of poems, prose, and a couple of books. I suppose that's not to bad a legacy. Maybe in a hundred years I will be considered a master. Who's to know? All I know is that I must continue to write this blog, no matter how many people read it. I must continue to work on my poetry and prose. I must continue to journal and look at the world with the wonder of a child. I must not forget to see the sprites, the spirits, those fantastical creatures created in the mind.

Life hurts. It's hard and toilsome. Everyone alive needs something to call there own:; something they created. I am fortunate to have found my niche. Some never do.

Thank you.     Until next time.............................

If you are interested in my book, it is available on Amazon and Barnes and Nobles. There is more information about the book on the websites and Amazon lets you read the first couple chapters to see if you like it. I thank you in advance for your attention. I do ask that you make a comment about the story on the above websites. It helps to move the book along a very long line.

Friday, May 30, 2014


I was in the garden when the ambulance pulled up.

I had seen the elderly woman across the way. The one living in the blue trailer with the brown shutters. She's probably lived there for a long time. There's a poor excuse for a rose bush at the trailers end showing sometime, someone  had cared. I'm sure it was her.

In the fall, on those warm days with brilliant blue skies, I would see her with her walker going to the mailbox. Her back was bowed, her body small. Her hands gripping the handles firmly exposing her long, long fingers, still elegant. Her face full of determination, her head held high. Proper, raised in an age gone by. My husband spoke to her several times and her statement was always, "the weather is beautiful."

The paramedics went in then quickly returned to their carriage of horrors. They pulled out their gurney.  I was sure she had died then I saw them carrying her down the bare wood steps in what appeared to be a chair. So small she was. Her hair splayed, her skin pale, she held her head up straight.

After a time of seeing no one at her home their appeared several cars. They seemed to come and go quickly although I did not see anyone take in anything or bring anything out. An odd experience, to be sure. Activity has died at the rusty blue trailer across the way. I don't know about the lady.

Thursday, March 27, 2014

We all know that someday we too shall pass away. It's unavoidable.  To have someone, especially a loved one, leave this world with no way to stop it is terrible. The effects ripple throughout all who know like a pebble in a pond. One ripple has gone as far as 3000 miles. Makes you feel small.

Openly or secretly we all have a desire to leave a legacy. A worthwhile essence left of you that spurns people on to be better. Wisdom remembered, wisdom shown, wisdom learned.

My immediate family, who cannot be with you face to face, as well as myself, gathered together on the evening of his leavin' and paid tribute to a great man. We celebrated E. Carney, SFC-E6. We talked, we laughed, we cried. Those of us of age raised a shot of good Irish whiskey to his name. We danced. We lit candles and played soft Celtic music, we sang, we remembered, we grieved for Papa, grandpa, great grandpa.

I believe that sometimes important things are denied in a real way. Unmovable objects. However, the awareness of events thousands of miles away are touching and moving me. In my grief I am seeing as I have never seen before. Life is short.

Websters states:

Legacy: noun  something transmitted by or received from an ancestor or predecessor, as from the past.

Emmett Carney, my Papa, left an indelible legacy.     

The toast we made to Papa.:

                                                          An Irish Toast

If ye cheat, may ye cheat death.

If ye steal, may ye steal a woman's heart.

If ye fight, may ye fight for your brother,

And if ye drink, may ye drink with me.