You’re so close that I can smell your fear,
And feel your breath upon my ear;
Telling tales of hurt, long past,
Showing scars that’ll forever last.
And, even though I can touch your face,
Your broken soul lives another place.
I stretched my heart into your breach,
But your wounded love stays out of reach.
For the Men of Honor, Let’s take a moment to celebrate the men who have been there for us, lifting us, supporting us, encouraging us, protecting us and celebrating us. Sure, many are fathers by virtue of birth, but it takes more to be a Dad, Daddy, Step Dad, Uncle, Adopted Dad or any other name of honor that we give our personal Warriors. You are our Heroes. With Love, Just Another Daddy’s Girl
Synchronicity would be the word to best describe this past month.
It started when I posted a poem I’d written years ago – God & Goddess – on my twitter feed. Another poet who goes by the handle of @fuckingpoetry generously did an audio recording of that poem in his awesome, sexy Australian accent.
Seriously, go check out his mostly NSFW writings and audio recordings at fuckingpoetry.com. I recommend that you are seated when listening lest your knees get weak!
Then I stumbled on another writer with the twitter handle of @TheZeusJuice who has this whole shtick about being Zeus in the modern world. A bit of playful banter later and suddenly he, two dozen other amazing writers and I have a website AllInThePantheon.com where we are now blogging about the trials and tribulations of being Gods, Goddesses, and Muses trying to assimilate with humans by taking on day jobs.
So in the short span of a month, I’ve gone from your average sexy scribbler to a Goddess Blogger for the Pantheon. You can check out my storyline by starting with my bio here: The Goddess Moxie.
Oh? You didn’t know that there was a Goddess named Moxie? Well, now you do! Following along as I spill the beans on the wild, weird, and wacky deities of Mount Olympus as the head of the Pantheon’s PR Firm. Here are a couple of updates to get you started:
I’m pleased with this photo. I like to think that it captures the essence of my writing journey – being like a determined, hearty, little weed pushing through concrete barriers to ultimately emerge victorious in the sunlight. You’re feeling it, too, right?
The fact that I accidentally caught this when putting my phone back in my purse doesn’t change the sentiment. Maybe it’s just the rest of the story.
This determined, tiny, slip of a shoot didn’t let anything get in its way. It was going to bask in the sunlight that it richly deserved. It was going to be seen by the world in all of its splendorous, weedy glory, “That’s right, bitches. I’m a weed. Deal with it.”
Then one day, while lazing in the warmth of our closest star, happily reaping the rewards of its efforts, fate stumbles in, takes its picture and…a legend is born. Behold! The mighty little weed.
Did this wee sprout ever hope to be the subject of a blog update, an Instagram post or a blur on a Twitter feed? I doubt it. But now this courageous, hell-bent-for-glory weed serves as inspiration to tens of people who are tenaciously pushing through to realize their dreams. Rock on little weed. I salute you.
Let us paint the world With our wayward words From fingertips and tongue.
Letters mixed and swirled Trilled by mockingbirds – Poet, not poem, unsung. ~~*~~ Written for World Poetry Day 2019, this little verse gave me a reason to switch hats from novelist to poet. And now, I’m switching once again from poet to blogger. I know. I know. I’ve been lax in updating this blog.
However, that doesn’t mean I haven’t been busy with writing projects. Because I have!
Thanks to my small but fierce team of beta readers, I’m 80% done with rewrites, edits, and whatnots of The Call. The plan is to have the entire manuscript polished by the end of the month. Incidentally, The Call was a finalist in the Sexy Scribblers contest and a partial manuscript (the first 14 chapters) is being read by an Editor at Carina Press who promises feedback. If liked, they may select it for publication, too. Fingers crossed.
Now it’s time to put on my laundress headwear before I get back into novelist-mode. I’ll save you the suspense and let you know that tomorrow’s attire includes both housekeeper and novelist. A writer’s life is so sexy ain’t it?