Guest Artist

December 10, 2017

The guest artist this week is my dear friend Heidi Barnes. Heidi lives in the Pacific Northwest near Seattle and is someone who nudged me (read pushed) into publishing my first novella. She is an amazing writer with books in two different series – Obsession and Destiny … check her out on Amazon. com

Heidi not only is a novelist, but a damned good poet and short story writer as well … enjoy her writing – a poem and a personal story!

Follow her website …

Follow her on twitter – @heidibarnes11

Follow her on FaceBook

Coin of My Choice

Do you die for tomorrow

Or live another day

Do weep in sorrow

Or laugh at your prey

When choices you make

Impact my destination

Payment must be paid

Repercussion wide spread

Coin of my choice

Life’s blood release

Hide if you must

In the end I will find you

Run if you must

In the end I will win

Copyright © 2017 Heidi Barnes

I’m Too Old to Chase Rabbits

Jack - Heidi

My dog, Jack, is getting on in age. It has been thirteen years since we went to choose between him and his brother. It was and easy choice. Jack was full of energy and wanted to play. His brother found the nearest object, ran under the truck and began to chew on it. Yeah…exuberant it was! Now, where he still has energy, it’s a little more subtle and his hearing isn’t what it used to be.

In the last couple of weeks the rabbits, or stew meat as I lovingly call them through gritted teeth, have come out in force. I’ve had as many as four in the yard at once, and those are just the ones I can see. I wonder where all the coyotes have gone. Have they suddenly sworn off rabbit? I hear it’s rather tasty.

Now before I receive comments about how cute and cuddly rabbits are, I thought the same thing until they ate $200 worth of plants I had just planted. Needless to say I was not amused.

Now that you have some back story, here is what happened a few days ago.

Jack is sleeping on his bed when I see one of the vermin called rabbit in the yard eating grass a little to close to my flowerbed for my comfort.

Me: Jack! Rabbit!

No response.

Me, a little louder: Jack! There’s a rabbit!

Jack’s head comes up: Rabbit?

I head for the slider and he follows as I wind him up to chase the rabbit. Now there is an art to opening the slider and not having the dog slam into it as he bolts out the opening like a race horse. You have to time it right and be wicked fast. I brace myself. Jack crouches down, ready to spring forward. I slide the door open and…

He sticks his head out the door. Slightly anti-climactic. Although lately he has been thinking about running more than actually doing.

Jack stares at the rabbit who is now frozen in hopes that he won’t be seen.

Me, very exuberantly: Rabbit! (Because that one word says it all.)

Jack: Yes, that is a rabbit.

Me: Go get the rabbit!

Jack gives me a look that seems to say: You do remember the last time I chased one of those things. I had to be carried back because my joints aren’t what they used to be. Very embaressing.

The rabbit is still frozen in the lawn.

Me: Come on, Jack. Get the rabbit!

Jack looks back at the rabbit then very non-chalantly walks out the door and to the left, NOT towards the rabbit: I’m going out front.

As Jack disappears around the corner of the house, the rabbit resumes eating, and I’m left wondering what just happened.

Copyright 2017 Heidi Barnes

November 12, 2017

Introducing my wonderful friend Joss Rossiter. Follow her on FaceBook for her amazing art as well as her website

These pictures were taken at Giraffe Manor in Nairobi …

Joss - 1

Joss - 3
Joss with her beloved Raffies!

Joss - 2

The following pictures were taken in Mara Kenya

Joss - 4

Joss - 5

Joss - 6

Joss - 7


The following are Joss’s giraffe’s inspired by her trips.

Joss - 1a

Joss - 2a

Joss 3a

Joss 4a

Joss 5q


October 29, 2017 – Introducing Kevin Strickler – Artist/Furniture Maker

Kevin is an amazing artist I met last year … here is his work and website!

Kevin Strickler

I am an artist a furniture designer and builder and currently not doing any of that. I decided I was going to be an artist at a very young age and like putting a boat in a fast river that decision has carried me in ways I would never have predicted. I don’t know if it would have been better if I had been in control or not. It’s best not to think but to let go.

Check out his art here >


October 15, 2017 – Read more of Megs wonderful writing  here >

To be the first…

Meg Haney

Really how hard is it?

In comparison many things are so easy,

Standing in front a stampede of bulls,

Bolting in front of a speeding train,

To protect something loved from a hail of bullets, 
but to be first, 
ah that is a feat.

I can be the first to step forward to stop an evil,

the first to voice a dissent in the vacuum of majority,

to lay everything on the line to fight for what is right,

That is easy.

Well, it is for me,

To be the one to stop the dominoes,

But when it comes to the personal,

When it comes to that thing

That one word, that one action

That laying open of the soul

The trusting of fate
that actually means … everything.

Even to a nearly emotional nudist,

It is like pulling a planet
A planet the size of jupiter,

From a black hole,
Climbing Everest 
and diving the Marianna trench
All at the same instant.

To be the one to voice a need,

a hope,

a wish…

a desire,

To even ask for help

That is what makes my heart sick and my palms sweat.

To trust in that fickle witch… fate

Trepidation is not due to stinging pride that I couldn’t tackle it myself or the fact that I would need,
or want something,
someone else, but the underlying dread of hearing that soulless reverberating heartbreaking,

No, you are not worth this;

No, you are not enough;

No, you are not wanted
Nor will you ever be;

It is easier to deal with 
my lacking,
my freakishness, my insufficiencies

When I don’t have to listen to them,

When I don’t watch them parade 
before me for the sheer joy of it, when the disparity of fairness

The rightness in this universe isn’t evidenced before me.

Life though, 
he is never about easy, 
he is never about fair,

He is rarely about right.

He is there for the daring to take what they can get

The hopeful to grasp
At those fleeting straws.

Some times bravery is superfluous,

Where it is unnecessary,

But in this,

In being the first To trust
In the actuality of happenstance and the occurrence of right.

I hate to be cliché

But saying it all comes down

To laying down a bet

Taking what is doled out, be it a lesson or salvation

~Indomitably me


October 8, 2017

Introducing my friend and a member of our local writing group – Linda Pledger.

Literary Bio:

Linda Pledger of Hamilton, TX, was born, raised and went to High School in Dallas, TX.

College education started at East TX Baptist College and was completed with a BS at the University of TX at Austin.

Linda keeps journals and has always been a snail mail writer. Serious writing began as the first of her four children began to leave home.

She has been published in three anthologies: “Memories of Tomorrow”, ed. Kate Meagher, Watermark Press, Owings Mills, MD, 2000; “Poetry’s Elite: The Best Poets of 2000”, ed. Howard Ely, Watermark Press, Owings Mills, MD, 2000 and “Taking Flight”, ed. Jessica Rapisarda, Watermark Press, Owings Mills, MD, 2001. A selection by Linda was published on CD, “The Sound of Poetry,” The International Library of Poetry, Owings Mills, MD. 2000. All the above were published under her pen name, L. Joyce Gordon.

Retiring to a ranch in Central TX in 2002, Linda wrote a blog for her high school web page about moving from PA to TX.

Family illness, deaths and struggling as a widow have awakened the literary urge, bringing Linda back to her typewriter.



Selections for this week are poems about each of her children as they go out on their own.

The Good Bye

As I watch her walk

Through the shadows

Headed for that empty dorm room,

A tear swells in the eye

Then another and another

Until the deluge is just short of unbearable.


Thank goodness, I didn’t spoil

The good bye,

With this watery show of emotion.

The hug was difficult enough

A kiss on the cheek, the simple “good bye”.


Now the shadows engulf her.

Does she feel the same fear

That races through my mind?

Or is she feeling relief to finally

Be out of the nest.


Once again immerging into the light

She gives final wave and then she’s out of sight.

Walking the four flights of stairs

Down the long hall through the door

To the beginning of the rest of her life.

Linda Pledger   8/1998

Published – Memories of Tomorrow, ed. Kate Meagher, Watermark Press, Owings Mills, MD, 2000


He Comes

Here he comes

Head held high.

Semester and a half under his belt

Voicing a little hum

As he walks by

Focused on a vacation dealt.


Lucky, we should feel

That his time is shared

With family

Instead of making a deal

Traveling in pairs

Sowing wild oats wearily.


A head full of knowledge

To recite uncurbed.

A young man still knowing it all,

Yet, maturing at leisure.

Anxious for the herald

Of future job, stalled.


Days of endless nothing,

Followed by nights of mindless viewing

Ease the weeks of concentrated studies

Give a time of reposing

A week of intermittent bragging,

And avoiding huggers.


As “all good things,

Must come to an end”,

A holiday from ivy hall

Ends as it begins.

He strolls happily out to stand

On his own, astonishingly tall.

Linda Pledger 6/1999


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