tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11132058351613958322024-03-15T03:41:47.314-07:00Lyrical Lip ServiceAmber Vaylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01382992993531293983noreply@blogger.comBlogger15125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1113205835161395832.post-52117822246408425852011-09-07T14:36:00.000-07:002011-09-07T14:36:35.536-07:00Extra Delicious Changes!!Lyrical Lip Service will be redesigned, reconfigured and revamped (why do I love that last word??) Stay tuned for the yummy changes!! Until then, please snack on the updated video archives.<br />
<br />
Love & Candy Kisses,<br />
<br />
Tami Sue Snow Amber Vaylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01382992993531293983noreply@blogger.com28tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1113205835161395832.post-29055978891146067932011-05-20T10:09:00.000-07:002011-05-20T10:16:51.261-07:00LLS Features Alan Gilbert<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3kR100gFT485GYkBWmhV_lBU_wrgr7fQeVX7RBLkn1xTL4oyTGfjBDzX3TdthOpstfIfpAh0YPCYh-kBvu47w9sXO6aRy4FNtZwxKMzXaI1AULf5nEcyuyZQP3J8SXiZfrNL12XP6AegP/s1600/brown+eyed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3kR100gFT485GYkBWmhV_lBU_wrgr7fQeVX7RBLkn1xTL4oyTGfjBDzX3TdthOpstfIfpAh0YPCYh-kBvu47w9sXO6aRy4FNtZwxKMzXaI1AULf5nEcyuyZQP3J8SXiZfrNL12XP6AegP/s1600/brown+eyed.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<span style="color: cyan;">Brown Eyes</span><br />
<div style="color: cyan;"><br />
Brown eyes won’t you tell me</div><div style="color: cyan;">What is it that you seek?</div><div style="color: cyan;">What is that echo in your voice</div><div style="color: cyan;">I hear each time we speak.</div><div style="color: cyan;">Why is your gaze so wistful</div><div style="color: cyan;">When looking at your star,</div><div style="color: cyan;">Are you hoping for the answers</div><div style="color: cyan;">To find out who you are.<br />
Brown eyes have you wondered</div><div style="color: cyan;">When rainbows light the sky,</div><div style="color: cyan;">Why if you try to chase them</div><div style="color: cyan;">Their colours fade and die.</div><div style="color: cyan;">Or, on waking in the morning</div><div style="color: cyan;">A dream still in your head,</div><div style="color: cyan;">Although you try to hold it</div><div style="color: cyan;">It slips away instead.<br />
Brown eyes have you pondered</div><div style="color: cyan;">When hearing breakers roar,</div><div style="color: cyan;">The miles they have travelled</div><div style="color: cyan;">To reach this distant shore.</div><div style="color: cyan;">Like you upon your journey</div><div style="color: cyan;">To who you want to be,</div><div style="color: cyan;">May lose your point of reference</div><div style="color: cyan;">Like those waves upon the sea. <br />
Brown eyes life’s a journey</div><div style="color: cyan;">We started long ago,</div><div style="color: cyan;">Exactly where its leading</div><div style="color: cyan;">Not one of us can know.</div><div style="color: cyan;">So each day as you travel</div><div style="color: cyan;">Remember as you do,</div><div style="color: cyan;">It’s the journey that’s the joy of life</div><div style="color: cyan;">Not where its leading to. </div><div style="color: cyan;"><br />
Copyright©Alan Gilbert 2011.</div><div style="color: cyan;">From, “Love is a Dreamer.”</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="color: cyan;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="color: cyan;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="color: lime;">Find Alan's poetry on Facebook:</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="color: cyan;"><br />
</div><a href="http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=111994118841565" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=111994118841565</a><br />
<br />
<span style="color: lime;">And link to his blog:</span><br />
<br />
<a href="http://gilbertverse.blogspot.com/">http://gilbertverse.blogspot.com</a><br />
<br />
<div style="color: magenta;">Love & Candy Kisses,</div><div style="color: magenta;"></div><span style="color: magenta;">Tami Sue Snow</span>Amber Vaylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01382992993531293983noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1113205835161395832.post-45533803786030130392011-04-15T20:50:00.000-07:002011-04-15T20:50:29.201-07:00"Meet Einstein" written by Mariela Kleiner<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDgMu2gMOtEckeIu_NwyLEzMfCG2FlLTH6QOrHl5vzaAsXY8q-rIuy09zRLtK4ARJuvC_vMDGdvNT0p4wlFzRdtHNIew2iwmZ-R40jedya6FAMc-cr47niUfOm1XTykLNRJZWXi3ZskMKK/s1600/Meet+Einstein.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDgMu2gMOtEckeIu_NwyLEzMfCG2FlLTH6QOrHl5vzaAsXY8q-rIuy09zRLtK4ARJuvC_vMDGdvNT0p4wlFzRdtHNIew2iwmZ-R40jedya6FAMc-cr47niUfOm1XTykLNRJZWXi3ZskMKK/s1600/Meet+Einstein.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<div style="color: #f1c232;">I am truly honored to have as a guest on Lyrical Lip Service, Mariela Kleiner, the brains behind the enlightening children's book, "Meet Einstein". This adorable book, with its fun illustrations, will teach your preschooler the complex idea of gravity and light in such a simple and down to earth manner. You can read more about "Meet Einstein" at<a href="http://www.blogger.com/%20http://meeteinstein.com%20"><span style="color: orange;"> http://meeteinstein.com</span> </a>or connect with Mariela on Facebook at<a href="http://www.blogger.com/%20http://www.facebook.com/pages/Meet-Einstein/258837319547%20"> <span style="color: orange;">http://www.facebook.com/pages/Meet-Einstein/2588373195 </span> </a></div><div style="color: #f1c232;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #f1c232;">Stop by<span style="color: orange;"> </span><a href="http://fateradio.com/" style="color: orange;">http://fateradio.com</a> on Wednesday, April 20th 1:00 pm EST and participate in a live chat with Mariela Kleiner while we talk about her book and what inspired her to write it.</div><div style="color: #f1c232;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #f1c232;">Much Love,</div><div style="color: #f1c232;"><br />
</div><span style="color: #f1c232;">Tami Sue Snow </span>Amber Vaylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01382992993531293983noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1113205835161395832.post-49381747014784696092011-04-06T18:13:00.000-07:002011-04-06T18:13:39.192-07:00THE GIRL<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheBjh31_k_FnMyOt2odT_XtuW7gtn0AagebUm2y99NsGuX-KL2i7j7SgI966M1FUCqsa07ocVZRnY5iQo3GfHK1HDJtEn70qP-b0XwyAWJ-AUo4SrTfZHO839C6zUB6RVtHlhlnlMqknKq/s1600/hurt-pain-sad-girl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheBjh31_k_FnMyOt2odT_XtuW7gtn0AagebUm2y99NsGuX-KL2i7j7SgI966M1FUCqsa07ocVZRnY5iQo3GfHK1HDJtEn70qP-b0XwyAWJ-AUo4SrTfZHO839C6zUB6RVtHlhlnlMqknKq/s320/hurt-pain-sad-girl.jpg" width="283" /></a></div><br />
<div style="color: #990000;">A Poem by Tami Sue Snow</div><div style="color: #990000;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #990000;"> Once upon a time, her life felt whole</div><div style="color: #990000;"> Colorfully placed puzzle pieces of her days</div><div style="color: #990000;"> Fixed in perfect reflection of her soul</div><div style="color: #990000;"> How tragically scattered, now they lay</div><div style="color: #990000;"> And they wonder what's become of the girl.</div><div style="color: #990000;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #990000;"> Her voice rang out as warbling bird songs</div><div style="color: #990000;"> Smiles broke free from the depths of her spirit</div><div style="color: #990000;"> She laughed and she danced all the day long</div><div style="color: #990000;"> Many wondered how life might be without her in it</div><div style="color: #990000;"> Can you tell them, what's become of the girl?</div><div style="color: #990000;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #990000;"> Shadowed and dark her life soon became</div><div style="color: #990000;"> Those that she loved failed to recognize</div><div style="color: #990000;"> Deep into sorrow, heartache and pain</div><div style="color: #990000;"> She buried her agony, hiding her cries</div><div style="color: #990000;"> No one knows... what became of the girl.</div><div style="color: #990000;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #cc0000;"><br />
</div>Amber Vaylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01382992993531293983noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1113205835161395832.post-21674846772890311962011-03-28T11:41:00.000-07:002011-03-28T11:42:55.700-07:00Party LLS Style!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO3KTckhk6VHE0SHMOK8lXnElG6efVIy2tdoSqkBF4WA0qizKcZIuVVIeq97lr2YMwSkAaJMmvD67XdggBaCKdnpZ3T0SLOneoQ4yn92aoUfWzDN0SLXDOLdH8PWRHjz3hP6SBsysFI6Yk/s1600/ArtOfSensuality.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO3KTckhk6VHE0SHMOK8lXnElG6efVIy2tdoSqkBF4WA0qizKcZIuVVIeq97lr2YMwSkAaJMmvD67XdggBaCKdnpZ3T0SLOneoQ4yn92aoUfWzDN0SLXDOLdH8PWRHjz3hP6SBsysFI6Yk/s320/ArtOfSensuality.jpg" width="210" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: red;">We are tossing up artistic confetti on Lyrical Lip Service this week!! That's right, darlings, Lyrical Lip Service is LIVE on Fate Radio starting Wednesday, March 30th. Let the celebration begin!!</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: red;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: red;">Lyrical Lip Service is blessed to feature the fabulous Jax Cassidy, photographer, author and artist extraordinaire.<span style="color: orange;"> <a href="http://jaxcassidy.com/" style="color: orange;">http://jaxcassidy.com </a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: red;">I can’t say enough about the talents this woman possesses, and that is why I offer you the opportunity to hear it for yourself. Jax will be my guest this Wednesday, March 30<sup>th</sup> at 12:00 pm EST, live on <a href="http://fateradio.com/"><span style="color: orange;">http://fateradio.com</span></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: red;"> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: red;">In addition to Jax Cassidy, I will be offering up a book review of Lipstick Laws, written by the talented young adult author, Amy Holder and reviewed by the lovely Cari from<a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_257236170"><span style="color: orange;"> </span></a><a href="http://cariblogs.blogspot.com/" style="color: orange;">http://cariblogs.blogspot.com</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGTzojluX5k69va5iufjb8d9lfTvzdrbiAp-VLk_5c8WEdgOCniOBylemjEHq6Kv4dMKSoPlKHpbozWREosbzmCF73SmOIu8iHKsXJSh3rfEe-xR6HzU_qkAAERDjeZY7lgsOMPWS4QjJX/s1600/LipStickLaws.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGTzojluX5k69va5iufjb8d9lfTvzdrbiAp-VLk_5c8WEdgOCniOBylemjEHq6Kv4dMKSoPlKHpbozWREosbzmCF73SmOIu8iHKsXJSh3rfEe-xR6HzU_qkAAERDjeZY7lgsOMPWS4QjJX/s1600/LipStickLaws.jpg" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: red;">Oh, and of course, I will be showing off the talents of a young photographer by the name of Cameron Dearborn. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxMjp7PDkHzqQ3mjY8ew5ctKQSr5sDWFAcYC9xaLks2_Ql85GB2bJPL8mnY2jbn3KjDSCi-qX_acweQcom-NYhzQbG54AT9d7h1O2LJO_0KDqRkgc-EfSdpEeIf8JBRi4vr8msCHNBrWfK/s1600/brooke%2527s+papa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxMjp7PDkHzqQ3mjY8ew5ctKQSr5sDWFAcYC9xaLks2_Ql85GB2bJPL8mnY2jbn3KjDSCi-qX_acweQcom-NYhzQbG54AT9d7h1O2LJO_0KDqRkgc-EfSdpEeIf8JBRi4vr8msCHNBrWfK/s320/brooke%2527s+papa.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: red;">Next week’s guest on Lyrical Lip Service: Jentri Chancey, Indie Filmmaker. Check out her website:</span> <a href="http://lostinsunshine.com/" style="color: orange;">http://lostinsunshine.com</a> </div>Amber Vaylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01382992993531293983noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1113205835161395832.post-24606016820946609732011-03-18T15:14:00.000-07:002011-03-20T11:23:54.182-07:00Oh, I Could Sing. It's Almost Spring!!<div class="MsoNormal" style="color: magenta;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJugkRIj9Asc299ohTKEjhr9xfaYDCKvwrLOJg8F0BDqKb1vNqllYGMQp-HCA5blUFwXIoExT3pcdijG4HoN0hTyPE6Xf-Cv4kmVX5kvxpxSpccwBtjVPsmktvbDZeIbJXuB6RzWIayKBu/s1600/Hot_pink_in_nature.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJugkRIj9Asc299ohTKEjhr9xfaYDCKvwrLOJg8F0BDqKb1vNqllYGMQp-HCA5blUFwXIoExT3pcdijG4HoN0hTyPE6Xf-Cv4kmVX5kvxpxSpccwBtjVPsmktvbDZeIbJXuB6RzWIayKBu/s320/Hot_pink_in_nature.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<b>There is something truly majestic, relishing in the colorful radiance of new life as it springs forth. Observing the rebirth of nature, newly formed blossoms unfurl their delicate petals to the warming sun, new shoots erupt from the thawing ground, warms my heart. It is my favorite time of the year.</b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: magenta;"><b>I am thrilled to share the following works of poetry. Each celebrates the onset of spring in its own unique way. I hope you enjoy them as much as I do.</b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: magenta;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: magenta;"><b>Love,</b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: magenta;"><b>Tami </b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: purple;"><a href="http://www.facebook.com/maxwellcynn"><b>Maxwell Cynn</b></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: purple;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: magenta;">Orchid of Spring<br />
<br />
Light shimmers across her dew covered mound. <br />
She arches up, eagerly reaching for the heat.<br />
Her delicate folds open, soft and succulent,<br />
A dawning more beautiful than the sun.<br />
Her tepals spread, her labellum firm and waiting.<br />
<br />
A drop of sweet nectar glistens across her anther.<br />
She waits...<br />
<br />
He comes to her; brash, insistent, <br />
Buzzing through the morning light.<br />
She lives for his touch, the feel of him within,<br />
Brushing her tender column, stretching her,<br />
Eager, ravenous, devouring her.<br />
<br />
She rocks expectantly, shaking in her need.<br />
She waits...<br />
<br />
He mounts her, mouth pressing hard into her depths,<br />
Hungrily licking, rubbing, reveling in her sweetness.<br />
He lives for her, she is his nourishment,<br />
Her soft, aromatic folds summon and entice him.<br />
His world dissolves and there is only her, only now.<br />
<br />
In a moment he is gone and again,<br />
She waits...</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: purple;"><a href="http://www.facebook.com/awriter">Wayne DePriest</a> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: magenta;">A short one for March:<br />
<br />
MARCH <br />
<br />
Days of metronomic plodding, <br />
<span class="textexposedhide">...</span><span class="textexposedshow">one by one by one.</span><br />
<span class="textexposedshow">Advancing, </span><br />
<span class="textexposedshow">one by one by one.</span><br />
<span class="textexposedshow">Making progress toward </span><br />
<br />
<span class="textexposedshow">SPROING!</span></div><h3><span class="uiintentionalstorynames"><a href="http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100000387113941">Alan Gilbert</a> </span></h3><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://www.facebook.com/notes/alan-gilbert/soon-spring/10150114833809356">Soon Spring</a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: magenta;">When first the tender buds appear </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: magenta;">And winters grey is in decline, </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: magenta;">The songbirds sing together songs </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: magenta;">And bees return to columbine.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: magenta;"> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: magenta;">Along the kitchen garden wall </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: magenta;">Clothed In veils of ivy green, </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: magenta;">The final scarlet velvet bloom </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: magenta;">Of winter Pansies may be seen.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: magenta;"> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: magenta;">Freshly th<span class="textexposedhide">...</span><span class="textexposedshow">awed the sodden earth</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: magenta;"><span class="textexposedshow"> Is dried beneath the early sun, </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: magenta;"><span class="textexposedshow">While on the bank are tiny prints </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: magenta;"><span class="textexposedshow">Of paws where baby rabbits run.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: magenta;"><span class="textexposedshow"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: magenta;"><span class="textexposedshow">The debris twigs from winter storms </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: magenta;"><span class="textexposedshow">Are gathered by the nesting throng, </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: magenta;"><span class="textexposedshow">Like any mother nature finds </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: magenta;"><span class="textexposedshow">Means to make her children strong.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: magenta;"><span class="textexposedshow"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: magenta;"><span class="textexposedshow">Buds and bees and paws and trees </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: magenta;"><span class="textexposedshow">Are signs that winters race is run, </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: magenta;"><span class="textexposedshow">Now out of time those frosted days </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: magenta;"><span class="textexposedshow">Give way to hope and birth and sun. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: magenta;"><span class="textexposedshow"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: magenta;"><span class="textexposedshow">Copyright©Alan Gilbert 2011. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: magenta;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: magenta;"><b>Write Hope is an amazing organization started by writers to provide assistance to the children of Japan that have been affected by the recent devastation of the tsunami. To find out more about how you can help, please visit their blog:</b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><a href="http://write-hope.blogspot.com/">http://write-hope.blogspot.com/</a><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>Amber Vaylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01382992993531293983noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1113205835161395832.post-71290019102745273302011-03-04T11:00:00.000-08:002011-03-04T17:39:23.788-08:00"I THINK WE’VE GOT GHOSTS"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZRTc3Ct_ZFFaZh_W8Mr2WXMfMHJZzIJ7oKwuFM2F3Qc8FTJ6kSI53Uunj1QHYjXXC6kmczTJloXXxSB0BhTbnscR-L45d7xgY1JcuDbUqrEspU5A9BKr-qPoud59iAbKxnwNvE2IsuanZ/s1600/imagesCAJ7KWOD.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" l6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZRTc3Ct_ZFFaZh_W8Mr2WXMfMHJZzIJ7oKwuFM2F3Qc8FTJ6kSI53Uunj1QHYjXXC6kmczTJloXXxSB0BhTbnscR-L45d7xgY1JcuDbUqrEspU5A9BKr-qPoud59iAbKxnwNvE2IsuanZ/s1600/imagesCAJ7KWOD.jpg" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Cambria", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><span style="color: #cc0000;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Cambria", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">BRIAN D. BYERS</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Cambria", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">It is a great pleasure to bring to you a super fun children’s book based on a subject that I LOVE, which may also be considered a little controversial in the arena of children’s literature—GHOSTS!</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="color: #cc0000;"><span style="font-family: "Cambria", "serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">“</span><span style="font-family: "Cambria", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">I THINK WE’VE GOT GHOSTS</span><span style="font-family: "Cambria", "serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">” is written and illustrated by Brian D. Byers and is available for purchase at: http://www.lulu.com</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Cambria", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">Brian Byers is best known for bringing to life animated characters such as SpongeBob SquarePants, Curious George, and Barbie. He always wanted to be an animator and still creates and breathes life into his own characters on a daily basis. Brian is one of those few people that actually can support the label "renaissance man" without missing a beat. Besides his job as an animator, Brian also is a film-maker for mainstream and adult entertainment, paranormal radio show host, iPhone/Android app developer, professor of business marketing and design, tattooist, grip, gaffer and candlestick maker! (tra la la)<br />
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Brian Byers is best known for bringing to life animated characters such as Spongebob Squarepants, Curious George, and Barbie. He always wanted to be an animator and still creates and breathes life into his own characters on a daily basis. Brian is one of those few people that actually can support the label "renaissance man" without missing a beat. Besides his job as an animator, Brian also is a film-maker for both mainstream and adult entertainment, paranormal radio show host, iPhone/Android app developer, professor of business marketing and design, tattooist, grip, gaffer and candlestick maker! (tralala)</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Cambria", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">Brian hosts "Ghostology with Brian & Anna Marie" and "Batteries Not Included", owns<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>both Fate Radio and Masque Radio, and is the creator of the show "Reporter Chicks" www.reporterchicks.com </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Cambria", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">I have written and illustrated both "Discarnotes" and "I Think We've Got Ghosts" both available on www.ghostologyradio.com </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Cambria", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;">Brian Byers is also a writer. The following are some of the books he's written. <br />
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DISCARNOTES is the original ghost hunters logbook that helps you to document moon phases, experiences, and even forms designed to help you and your team gain access to public and private property. An essential tool for the avid ghost hunter. <br />
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I THINK WE'VE GOT GHOSTS, is a children's book designed to help kids understand things they might be experiencing but don't know how to put it into words. <br />
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The author, Brian Byers, wrote this book from a parents point of view in hopes that it may act as a tool between child and parent, helping the child put into words, what might be difficult to understand. <br />
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On top of books, he and his wife have also done a series of videos. <br />
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How to Catch a Ghost: DVDs <br />
How to Catch a Ghost is a DVD series designed to teach ghost hunters exactly how NOT to catch a ghost. From learning how to clean EVPs to understanding the many definitions and types of reported hauntings, Brian & Anna Marie from Ghostology guide you with their humor and experience as you learn the many facets to the ghost hunting hobby. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Cambria", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">Both Brian and Anne Marie Byers will be attending the Texas Ghost Show, where they will be the emcees, on March 18<sup>th</sup> & 19<sup>th</sup><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span><a href="http://texasghostshow.eventbrite.com/"><span style="font-family: "Cambria", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">http://texasghostshow.eventbrite.com</span></span></a><span style="color: black; font-family: "Cambria", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><span style="color: #cc0000;"> <br />
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For more information about Brian Byers visit, </span></span><a href="http://www.ghostologyradio.com/"><span style="font-family: "Cambria", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">www.ghostologyradio.com</span></span></a><span style="color: black; font-family: "Cambria", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Cambria", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">Brian will be a guest on Joann H. Buchanan’s blog-talk radio-show, The Eclectic Artists Cave </span></span><a href="http://blogtalkradio.com/joann-hamann-buchanan" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: "Cambria", "serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">http://blogtalkradio.com/joann-hamann-buchanan</span></span></a><span style="color: black; font-family: "Cambria", "serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><span style="color: #cc0000;"> LIVE at 10 AM March 5th, 2011</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Cambria", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">Here are a billion (okay, maybe not a billion, but close) where you will find Brian’s work:</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Cambria", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><a href="http://www.snocipop.com/fingerrub"><span style="color: #cc0000;">www.snocipop.com/fingerrub</span></a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Cambria", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><a href="http://www.ghostologyradio.com/"><span style="color: #cc0000;">www.ghostologyradio.com</span></a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Cambria", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><a href="http://www.fateradio.com/"><span style="color: #cc0000;">www.fateradio.com</span></a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Cambria", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><a href="http://www.masque-radio.com/"><span style="color: #cc0000;">www.masque-radio.com</span></a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Cambria", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"><span style="color: #cc0000;"><strong>This post has been written by Brian D. Byers and Tami Sue Snow, exclusively.</strong></span></span></div></span></span></div>Amber Vaylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01382992993531293983noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1113205835161395832.post-53784654464852997712011-02-17T10:19:00.000-08:002011-02-17T10:19:06.263-08:00On the Subject of BANNING the "I ♥ boobies" Bracelets in Schools.<ul class="commentList"><li class="uiUfiComment comment_2673194 ufiItem ufiItem uiUfiUnseenItem"><div class="UIImageBlock clearfix uiUfiActorBlock"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB22Ga5EnEAPdEuPGuE-qVN0gDrq6fPNJuMlVOHIMvPwZdDk91DUL89yY2_ba1Iwqk7l7qILPQECpXmg7SBCBOAbKgIODAnZMKoM_458xDu-wtC3SXpsj75eq-pmYIPbs-XASRubOpOh90/s1600/boobies+brace.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB22Ga5EnEAPdEuPGuE-qVN0gDrq6fPNJuMlVOHIMvPwZdDk91DUL89yY2_ba1Iwqk7l7qILPQECpXmg7SBCBOAbKgIODAnZMKoM_458xDu-wtC3SXpsj75eq-pmYIPbs-XASRubOpOh90/s200/boobies+brace.jpg" width="158" /></a></div><div class="commentContent UIImageBlock_Content UIImageBlock_SMALL_Content" style="color: #a64d79;"><span data-jsid="text">A comment on my Facebook page, in regards to my fund-raising efforts for the Keep-a-Breast Foundation, got me flustered. Although, the party said that Keep-a-Breast was a "great cause", in addition to this comment was the statement that they are trying to BAN the "I </span><span data-jsid="text">♥ boobies" bracelets that are a trademark of this Foundation. </span><span data-jsid="text">And as such, I thought I'd share my response to the comment here in my blog, which is as follows:</span></div><div class="commentContent UIImageBlock_Content UIImageBlock_SMALL_Content"><span data-jsid="text" style="color: #a64d79;">I recently read an article on the keep-a-breast website that talks about a two-year-old girl developing breast cancer.(You can read the article here) <a href="http://www.stayclassy.org/member/fundraising?fcid=3505">4 yr old beats breast cancer</a> This is an extremely sad thing. This disease touches so many, in so many ways. It is my "opinion" that if you are making children aware of boobies, even if, at the age they are, it is for "different reasons". At least they are aware, and paying attention. Early detection saves lives, even those of young children. The "I ♥ boobies" campaign is about education. They are doing doing a very good job of providing it. Even if it is controversial. For what better way is there to get the word out? This is simply my own view on things. I choose to love and appreciate my body. I think others should be accepting of themselves and others, as well.</span><div class="UIImageBlock clearfix uiUfiActorBlock" style="color: #a64d79;"><abbr class="timestamp" data-date="Thu, 17 Feb 2011 09:41:30 -0800" title="Thursday, February 17, 2011 at 9:41am"></abbr><span class="comment_like_2673194 fsm fwn fcg"></span><a class="actorPic UIImageBlock_Image UIImageBlock_SMALL_Image" href="http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=1225298213" tabindex="-1"></a><span data-jsid="text">We encourage women to breast-feed in order to provide their children with proper nutrition. Why is this the only time boobs are okay? </span></div><div class="UIImageBlock clearfix uiUfiActorBlock" style="color: #a64d79;"><span data-jsid="text">Tsk, society.</span></div><div class="UIImageBlock clearfix uiUfiActorBlock" style="color: #a64d79;"><span data-jsid="text"> </span></div><div class="UIImageBlock clearfix uiUfiActorBlock" style="color: #a64d79;"><span data-jsid="text">Love Yourself. Love Your Bodies. Love Your Boobies.</span></div><div class="UIImageBlock clearfix uiUfiActorBlock" style="color: #a64d79;"><span data-jsid="text"> </span></div><div class="UIImageBlock clearfix uiUfiActorBlock" style="color: #a64d79;"><span data-jsid="text">Forever Yours,</span></div><div class="UIImageBlock clearfix uiUfiActorBlock" style="color: #a64d79;"><span data-jsid="text">Tami</span></div><div class="UIImageBlock clearfix uiUfiActorBlock" style="color: #a64d79;"><span data-jsid="text"> </span></div><div class="UIImageBlock clearfix uiUfiActorBlock"><span data-jsid="text"><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="color: #a64d79;">If you are interested in making a donation to my fund-raising campaign, please visit my fund-raising page at the link below. </span></span></span></div><div class="UIImageBlock clearfix uiUfiActorBlock"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/%20http://www.stayclassy.org/member/fundraising?fcid=3505"><span data-jsid="text"><span style="color: magenta;"> </span></span>http://www.stayclassy.org/member/fundraising?fcid=3505</a></div></div></div></li>
</ul>Amber Vaylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01382992993531293983noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1113205835161395832.post-29664891981381904772011-02-14T20:58:00.000-08:002011-02-14T20:58:49.966-08:00From My Heart to Yours<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrKiouFB2HM2ooIUfs5lEb_Sd6NWmtxu_NjEjeVFhAG1LSKrVVIKEU9AMEpeP45ohHGPbT0rX0zFUZ9Vce9uf1wPjit5NtN25Uf2i7DyukfkAtzMRPS8jcyUboUQYnvB9oznXKNhW8aQMU/s1600/star+hearts.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrKiouFB2HM2ooIUfs5lEb_Sd6NWmtxu_NjEjeVFhAG1LSKrVVIKEU9AMEpeP45ohHGPbT0rX0zFUZ9Vce9uf1wPjit5NtN25Uf2i7DyukfkAtzMRPS8jcyUboUQYnvB9oznXKNhW8aQMU/s1600/star+hearts.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Calibri;">Happy Heart Day, Darlings. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Calibri;">When I think of love, not only do I ponder the satisfaction of giving love to our mates, but of the love we should be giving ourselves. For how can we love another, if not? Love you, your body and your soul. Take care of yourself. Treat yourself right. Be true to who you are in your heart. Follow your DREAMS. Believe.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Calibri;">Another thing that tends to sweep through my mind on a day such as this, those that suffer the absence of the one they love. And greater still, those that are fighting for our freedoms, separated from their sweethearts. I am posting a poem below that I wrote while my baby brother was away on his latest tour of duty in the Middle East. It is dedicated to his wife and all those that suffer through and sacrifice the absence of their darlings while away serving our country. I hope you enjoy the poem and the video I am posting in celebration of Valentine’s Day. After all, LOVE can move mountains, it can change our world. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Calibri;">Give it <3 Share it <3</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Calibri;">All of MY love.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Calibri;">Forever Yours,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Calibri;">Tami</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Calibri;">A Million Times</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Calibri;">A million times a day, I ponder your face, alternating flashes, dust and sweat streaked from battle and then quiet innocence consumed by slumber. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Calibri;">A million times a night, while lying in our silken sheets, I feel the ghost of your arms enfold me, knowing you lay immersed in desert sands with one eye open. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Calibri;">A million times a second, I long for the taste of your kisses, but taste only tears, aching for you to come home. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Calibri;">A million times a week, I gaze upon our children, your reflection bathed upon their faces, growing strong to an absence they should never bear. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Calibri;">A million times a morning, I wake to find my bed empty, waiting for you, wanting and longing for you to be there.</span></div><br />
<span style="color: #ea9999;"></span>Amber Vaylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01382992993531293983noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1113205835161395832.post-90744275047205260822011-02-04T10:42:00.000-08:002011-02-04T10:57:13.419-08:00CoCo Saves the Winter Snow<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4C0plKGfX4zx2f64mhcke2qXG7l0FrraSsuphn03E7rbQEOLRNi1AUO4Hg6zYwk3MY-FDnTW9hUCOdCSbvy5ZXoOgvRjdqq78AaWj2KqQqYXqWjMOqwKMfA1e7nmG5dFzFjlgkXq1xD8R/s1600/snow+fairy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4C0plKGfX4zx2f64mhcke2qXG7l0FrraSsuphn03E7rbQEOLRNi1AUO4Hg6zYwk3MY-FDnTW9hUCOdCSbvy5ZXoOgvRjdqq78AaWj2KqQqYXqWjMOqwKMfA1e7nmG5dFzFjlgkXq1xD8R/s1600/snow+fairy.jpg" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><u><br />
</u></b><b><u></u></b></div><div class="MsoNormal">By: Tami Snow</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Once upon a Winter's Eve, not so long ago,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Jack Frost flew swiftly through the air, casting ice upon the world below. </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">When out of a tiny window blew, a fragrance oh so sweet,</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">he decided to have a look, and floated down to take a peek.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Through the crackled window pane, Jack opened it up wide;</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Old Man Winter took a breath, the air it whirled inside.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">As the bitter chill flurried in, a couple snuggled up,</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">and left upon the table there a steaming cocoa cup.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">From winter’s freezing exhale, the magic twirled about,</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">around and over the whipped creamy top, a tiny Fairy then flew out.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">She said, “Hi! My name is CoCo. How are you this fine day?”</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Jack Frost, he blushed a scarlet red and invited her to play.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">His hand she grabbed in hers real hard, she giggled and he laughed,</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">and then the two, hand-in-hand sprang through the glacial draft.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Up, up, and away they climbed within the blustery breeze,</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">until deciding to take a rest on the branch of an old pine tree.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">And as they looked out at the world, and the dried brown earth below,</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">she turned her head and then she asked, “Hey Jack, where is the snow?”</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">He then looked out to follow her gaze, with a deep and pain-filled sigh,</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Jack bowed his head into his hands and then began to cry.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">“Winter Snow was kidnapped for a selfish reason;</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">the Arctic King wanted her this shivering-cold Holiday Season.”</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">“We will save her,” CoCo cried, her voice topped with glee.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">“I know the way,” said Jack, “Come on, and follow me.”</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Over Candy Cane fields, sugar hills, and rolling cookie dough,</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">they were off on their quest to find Winter Snow.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">To the Arctic the two must fly, as swiftly as they can,</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">“Wait!” said Jack to CoCo. “We must have a plan.”</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">“On tip-toe we’ll go into his cave, and slowly we will creep.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">We’ll give him magic Gum Drops so he will fall asleep.”</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Tip-toe they did, their voices near a whisper,</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">and in the corner there she sat, Winter Snow, all a-glister.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">“You found me!” she beamed. Her voice was all bubbles.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">“Thank you for going through all of that trouble.”</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"> At them he came, the Arctic King all a-fluster,</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">and they ran and they hid with what strength they could muster.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">“Where did you go?” the frosty King boomed.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">There seemed no way out. The friend’s hearts filled with gloom.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">“Don’t worry,” said CoCo. “This all will be simple.”</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Then she winked and she smiled, and on her cheek was a dimple.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">She flitted from hiding, chocolate eyes all a-glowing.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">“Excuse me, your Highness, but winter’s not the same without snowing.”</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">His eyes were ablaze with an anger so dire,</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">they swirled and they flamed, and they churned with orange fire.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">In that very moment, CoCo had a bright thought,</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">rushed up to the King, fear-filled she was not.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Wrapping her tiny arms around him so tight,</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">a warm hug she gave to him. The action seemed right.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">He coughed and he sputtered, and his face was amazed.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">In fact, he looked shocked, and completely dazed.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">“Why did you do that?” he asked with confusion. </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">“Forgive us, your Highness, for this unwelcome intrusion.”</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">“We mean you no ill-will,” she said with a bow,</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">“but it’s very important Winter Snow come with us now.”</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">He thought for a second, his forehead crunched up wrinkly,</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">then looked down at CoCo, in his eyes a-bright twinkling.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">“No one on earth has ever shown me such kindness.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">You are a very brave soul,” said to CoCo his Highness.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">They zoomed from the deep Arctic realm in a hurry.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Dancing pirouettes in the air, Winter Snow blew her flurries. </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">So when it is snowing below from above,</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">let your heart sing, be happy, and remember – give love.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">The moral of this story, as you all should know,</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">is that Winter just isn’t the same without Winter Snow</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>Amber Vaylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01382992993531293983noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1113205835161395832.post-35965730121516012332011-01-28T21:51:00.000-08:002011-01-28T21:51:31.461-08:00UPSIDE DOWN POETRY 1Death<br />
By Maxwell Cynn<br />
<br />
I glimpse her hiding in the shadows, between a heartbeat and the next faltering breath. Her alabaster skin gives stark contrast to the black satin corset over her flowing black dress. Black lace and gossamer wings accentuate her onyx eyes. The pale beauty of her thin face, high cheekbones, and stringent jawline, frame her luscious lips. She smiles, a smile that would shame the full moon of October, and I forget to breathe.<br />
I stare at her, my only thought a need to taste those lips, to feel her rapturous embrace. Her hand reaches out to me. Fingers as cool and fragile as a china doll trace the deep furrows in my aging flesh. I sigh, the last wisp of breath escaping my tired lungs. Her fingers pass through my graying hair soothing away all sadness. Her cool lips brush mine and blood pumps into my blushing cheeks. She is gone.<br />
Like a fool I chase after her. We play our lovers' game like deer in the early spring. But it is late fall for me and the cold of winter descends like icy shards into my bones. Too many years of life have passed, too much hardship and pain. She comes for me and I reach for her embrace. Her kiss I fear and desire beyond reason; that cold eternal kiss. But she whispers in my ear, "Not yet, my love, not yet."<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
The way of things...Some thoughts about loss<br />
By Alan Gilbert<br />
<br />
I am not gone<br />
Please never think me so,<br />
The world must turn<br />
Tides ebb, and spirits grow.<br />
Our souls evolve<br />
As everything must do,<br />
Though bodies fade<br />
My essence stays with you.<br />
<br />
It's natures way<br />
That everything must change,<br />
All bodies grow<br />
Then fall to rearrange.<br />
But nothings lost<br />
Just takes a different form,<br />
Our souls remain<br />
Complete as when we're born.<br />
<br />
Some summer days<br />
You'll feel me close at hand,<br />
The softest breeze<br />
That whispers in the sand.<br />
A gentle touch<br />
Much lighter than a kiss,<br />
And you may know<br />
That life is more than this.<br />
<br />
So talk to me<br />
And wait for my reply,<br />
For every soul<br />
Was given wings to fly.<br />
And I will answer<br />
Everything you say,<br />
I won't forsake you<br />
For a singe day.<br />
<br />
<br />
Now and Then<br />
By Joann Buchanan<br />
<br />
Stone guards the part of my heart that holds <br />
my memories of you. <br />
I can't look <br />
for fear of breaking.<br />
<br />
Life is anew now. <br />
Sweet and tender. <br />
Still I guard the walls <br />
that contain you. <br />
<br />
The pain of your touch <br />
and the scars you caused <br />
can never be healed. <br />
<br />
I move forward <br />
ever watchful over my shoulder <br />
Will you appear today? <br />
<br />
Forever hoping my new heart won't break <br />
the pieces stay together. <br />
Such is the sweet tender joy <br />
of my new life. <br />
<br />
Please dear walls <br />
Please don't break. <br />
Don't steal my life away.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Away<br />
a companion poem to Tami Snow's 'Gone'<br />
by C. D. Bennett<br />
<br />
<br />
Thoughts of you are whispers on the wind<br />
Echoes of love too faint to recall<br />
A smile at sunset<br />
The sound of laughter in the hall<br />
A knowing glance<br />
A breathless dance<br />
<br />
We were a spark<br />
The world set to burn<br />
Now with masks to hide our torment<br />
Each of us now take our turn<br />
<br />
We had our chance<br />
You turned away<br />
No mask can hide<br />
What our souls did say<br />
<br />
Another life it seems<br />
Too far, so far away<br />
When I reach for you there is nothing<br />
Only memories, damn memories<br />
<br />
I'm here<br />
You're gone<br />
Numb and speechless<br />
I face the dawn<br />
<br />
Without a word<br />
With barely a tear<br />
I can't help but wonder<br />
<br />
Were you ever really here?<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Gone<br />
By Tami Snow<br />
<br />
My head was filled with thoughts of you today. <br />
Creating your memory in a thousand different ways. <br />
The ease with which you'd make me laugh. <br />
Those things you'd do that made me gasp. <br />
And then I wondered... where have you gone? <br />
<br />
Not long ago you dangled my heart on a string. <br />
Filled me with happiness, caused me to sing. <br />
My world seems a little bit broken now. <br />
I'd paste it together if I only knew how. <br />
Oh, how I wish I knew... why have you gone? <br />
<br />
So empty and longing my soul has become. <br />
You were my morning, I'm blocking the sun. <br />
Wearing a mask of indifference, I hide. <br />
Protecting myself, retaining my pride. <br />
Hate to admit... It hurts me... now that you're gone. <br />
<br />
Eventually all of this pain will abide. <br />
My simple request, to once again fly. <br />
Till love and words once again bring back. <br />
Only one thing that would be torture to lack. <br />
Even through the agony, I’m glad you’re gone.<br />
<br />
(see alternate ending on Slaves to the Muse)<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Amber Vaylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01382992993531293983noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1113205835161395832.post-13043958273539821012011-01-28T21:47:00.000-08:002011-01-28T21:48:55.778-08:00POETRY READING 1AS I SIT HERE <br />
<br />
As I sit here, fingers snapping,<br />
on the keys I’m gently tapping.<br />
Words appear and lightly shimmer, <br />
often without any glimmer <br />
of a route I may be mapping.<br />
<br />
On my Muse’s door I’m rapping, <br />
hoping that the thing’s not napping.<br />
But that hope is getting slimmer <br />
as I sit here.<br />
<br />
Adjectives and verbs I’m scrapping.<br />
Broken-winged, my thoughts are flapping <br />
while my mood is getting grimmer <br />
trying to hold on to dimmer <br />
thoughts my tired Muse ain’t trapping <br />
as I sit here.<br />
<br />
By Wayne De Priest<br />
<br />
Lust is power<br />
By Elyzabeth Snow<br />
<br />
Lust is power, but not comparable to a dictatorship—it is a bond between two.<br />
<br />
It is a force in which two people share between each other; unbreakable, sometimes unbearable.<br />
<br />
It is the power that increases blood flow in your accelerating heart even when only the slightest thought of the significant other comes to mind.<br />
<br />
Lust is love’s seed.<br />
<br />
It is the reason to breathe once it is embraced; to thrive and to make the other smile and feel the same about you.<br />
<br />
It makes you tingle from your head to your toes. Your insides kick start yet your body starts to weaken.<br />
<br />
Pain in your lips from biting them as you try and hold yourself back from making your dreams a reality—tongue dancing behind your clenched teeth: its so hard to hold back.<br />
<br />
<br />
Twiddling thumbs try and veer your attention from something so beautiful… its going to happen… you both know it.<br />
<br />
Your heart beats faster and faster as your mouth begins to open—lips softened. And there it is. A sweet, simple yet amazing kiss planted so lightly on each others’ lips.<br />
<br />
Physically, it’s like a butterfly landing on the most beautiful of flowers; mentally, like an atomic bomb has been planted in your gut and an explosion has taken place in your soul.<br />
<br />
Caught in the moment, more is craved.<br />
<br />
You want more!<br />
<br />
More everything!<br />
<br />
This firework feeling utterly consuming.<br />
<br />
Billy<br />
Billy came to me just the other night,<br />
his body was battered, what a terrible sight.<br />
<br />
But nothing could prepare me for what I saw next,<br />
poor Billy's arms burned by cigarettes.<br />
<br />
He pleaded and begged me not to tell of what I knew,<br />
but I couldn't do that, could you?<br />
<br />
I heard on the news Billy lost the fight,<br />
he died in his mother's arms tonight.<br />
<br />
By: Paula Claire Hamel (Roberts)<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Sand<br />
<br />
you slip through my fingers<br />
grain by grain<br />
like sand<br />
like slow death<br />
steal away <br />
nothing left<br />
but ash and memories<br />
and false hopes<br />
On a beach<br />
under a gray sky<br />
looking out over an empty ocean<br />
I wait in vain<br />
For your return<br />
But the waves<br />
They crash in<br />
leaving nothing<br />
but grooves in the shore.<br />
<br />
By Megan Bostic<br />
<br />
<br />
I Remember Well<br />
<br />
The ocean waves were cold that day<br />
You tiptoed near then ran away,<br />
Then giggled like a child at play<br />
Dancing through the misted spray.<br />
I felt my heart just slip away<br />
Yes I remember well.<br />
<br />
We walked beneath the cloudless sky<br />
Then raced a sail boat drifting by,<br />
You stood and watched a heron fly<br />
But turned with moisture in your eye<br />
And asked, “Why do we have to die.”<br />
Yes I remember well.<br />
<br />
I’m sure it started on that day<br />
You turned inside, just slipped away,<br />
No longer does that child play<br />
No dancing in the summer spray.<br />
And I will never hear you say<br />
“Yes I remember well.”<br />
<br />
By Alan GilbertAmber Vaylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01382992993531293983noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1113205835161395832.post-32993973320095927452011-01-22T18:13:00.000-08:002011-01-22T18:56:12.232-08:00For the Adoration of Writing. An Offering of FriendsIt is few and far between that we as individuals are touched with a moment that changes us as human beings. For many years I have been writing fantasy, and I love it. I wish to continue creating worlds of the fantastic, otherworldly and profound. But there is definitely something to be said of the tragic and heroic realism that our species experiences and pushes through on a daily basis.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1oT5uIL7l_s/TTuWXSMAulI/AAAAAAAAAZo/R9cwkP6pibo/s1600/LIPS-Favicon-BLACK.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="161" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1oT5uIL7l_s/TTuWXSMAulI/AAAAAAAAAZo/R9cwkP6pibo/s200/LIPS-Favicon-BLACK.png" width="200" /></a>We struggle through hardship, monetary, medical and else wise… Stretching our capabilities and attempting to do what we feel is impossible. We must remember, always, where we come from, the United States, a land and a home full of infinite possibilities.<br />
<br />
I feel honored to be a part of what it means to be an individual blessed with the freedoms that living in this country allows… freedom of speech and creativity. And as such, I wish to provide you with a smile and perhaps, an occasional tear.<br />
<br />
My life has been recently touched by hardships such as illness and the absence of a family member fighting for our freedom. I am thankful to say, that time is near over, as my warrior brother is on his way home to our beautiful country. And as an individual, in humble honor and celebration of our freedoms, I offer you a taste of the drive behind such artistic endeavors…<br />
<br />
I am calling this piece… For the adoration of writing… an offering of friends…<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="color: #ea9999;"><span style="font-size: large;">Shadows Between the Pages</span></div>by Joann Buchanan<br />
<a href="http://theeclecticartistcave.blogspot.com/">http://theeclecticartistcave.blogspot.com</a><br />
<br />
"There are places between the shadows, worlds within the printed page. There are things that live beyond the grasp of conscious thought, things both wretched and beautiful, horrible and fantastic." — C. D. Bennett<br />
<br />
No matter how many times I read this, I will never forget the first time. I felt like a sharp cold pen had been used on my very soul and it sent me crashing deep into a world...my world. I love it when a couple of lines written on a page send me to the edge and back. It makes me chase the written word and I become intoxicated by the very thought of the world that is created.<br />
<br />
The love of the written word is like a drug. A single thought can turn into miles across the ocean or a night in bed with someone you love. They are the very essence of my soul; I breathe them in everyday just to live.<br />
<br />
When I read this by my friend, the first thing that crept across the squeaky wooden floors of my mind was, 'You must be talking to me.' <br />
<br />
My heroes aren't the people who are rich and famous. They are the ones who aren't afraid to tattoo my soul with the words they write. The shadows between the pages are the undiscovered worlds and minds of the person who writes them.<br />
<br />
Writing is a glimpse into the deepest essence of the writer. For that I thank you, the soon to be discovered writer or the one who is already sitting on my nightstand. Thank you for giving me my fix. I can already feel the beating of my heart and see the new world I want to create.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="color: #ea9999;"><span style="font-size: large;">On Writing</span></div>By Tami Snow<br />
<br />
Thievery of my soul began<br />
Across the widened expanse of time<br />
A secret pleading discovery<br />
Within a book of song and rhyme<br />
Your eyes a looking glass of fear<br />
The color of the sky<br />
I look upon their languid gaze<br />
As you go soaring by<br />
How much longer will you leave me here<br />
Disguised as wafting need<br />
Limbs desiring to grow and stretch<br />
Out from a fertile seed<br />
On paper spill my heart and soul<br />
My deepest desires expose<br />
My life held in your timid fingers<br />
Show them so they know<br />
<br />
Love.<br />
Tami<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="color: #ea9999;"><span style="font-size: large;">Where Stories Come From . . .</span></div>by Gae Polisner<br />
<a href="http://gpolisner.blogspot.com/">http://gpolisner.blogspot.com</a><br />
<br />
This morning after my swim, as I floated and stared up at a sky so pure blue-gray that its solid, monotonous color was the only thing in my line of vision save for those little floater things (you know, the little paramecium that slip along the periphery of things, viscous, scientific and strange), a line came to me that I knew would likely be the last line of the novella I am working on, if, in fact, the novella ever comes to full fruition. And, trust me, it may, or may not.<br />
<br />
That, and a conversation last evening with my dear friend Evelyn's husband, the gorgeous and gregarious (if slightly giddy ;)) Karlito, got me thinking again about where my stories come from -- my beginnings and middles and ends -- and how differently I seem to write than many of my friends who (enviably) write from well-formed ideas reduced to detailed outlines, their chapters and plot (oh dear god when will I EVER learn to plot?) mapped out before them in bulleted, organized glory.<br />
<br />
I write with no such bulleted, organized glory.<br />
<br />
For example, evolution of The Pull of Gravity: I read an article about this guy, see, and something about him intrigued me and I found myself wondering what his real life might be like. How what he had done (set out to walk across America to lose weight, in this case) would affect his marriage and, more importantly to me, his children, his family.<br />
<br />
Here. This is a real photo of him walking:<br />
<br />
He became the first central character driving the story, except that I knew that the story would be told from his son's perspective (I do not remember if the real guy has a son).<br />
<br />
The second thing that happened was, as I was thinking vaguely about the story, my younger son spiked a fever, which brought the first line of the book to me, and the few lines that followed:<br />
<br />
"A fever was what started everything. That, and the water tower, and the cherry cola. Well, also, Dad and his condition, and Mom being in Philadelphia and all."<br />
<br />
Nothing else about the story had come to me yet. But I just started writing, and eventually a story unfolded.<br />
<br />
Little known fact (nearly forgotten by me): the first working title of the book in my computer files was Fat Man Walking -- a far cry from Steinbeck, The Scoot, and the Pull of Gravity, now just The Pull of Gravity, eh?<br />
<br />
Anyway, this is how I write, despite that all I had in this case was a character or two, some lines that appealed to me, and my own desire and intrigue. Lord knows how I got here from there.<br />
<br />
For example, evolution of Jack Kerouac is Dead to Me:<br />
<br />
The title came to me one morning as I woke up. Nothing but that title. There was a reason that Kerouac was on my brain, and I was ruminating on my next YA, but other than that, and the sudden realization that somehow butterflies were also to be involved, I had little else when I set the manuscript in motion. How the rest unfolded remains a mystery to me.<br />
<br />
For example, evolution of Frankie Sky:<br />
<br />
The first line, "The first time I see Frankie Schyler, he’s diving into the deep end of the Lawrenceville Country Club pool," came to me together with an image of a small boy, angelic looking, diving confidently into a swimming pool surrounded by onlookers, appearing to swim sort of miraculously, then drowning instead. I was in the pool, underwater, when the image came to me.<br />
<br />
All of my stories are like this -- springing from bits and pieces, vague ideas, images that pull at me, call to me while I swim, or drive, or sleep. I suspect this is not the best way to write, and worse, I suspect it is why, while my writing is repeatedly praised, editors continue to struggle with my stories, my plotting, the way things unfold in my novels, over and over again.<br />
<br />
Perhaps it is not the best way to write, but so far, it's the only way I know how.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="color: #ea9999;"><span style="font-size: large;">We Write</span></div>by C. D. Bennett<br />
<a href="http://echoesofdusk.com/">http://echoesofdusk.com</a><br />
<br />
We write for our souls<br />
We write out of hope<br />
of passion<br />
of tears<br />
<br />
We write through the pain<br />
the emptiness, the loneliness<br />
<br />
the fear<br />
<br />
We write to save ourselves<br />
<br />
For our souls<br />
For yours<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="color: #ea9999;"><span style="font-size: large;">When the wolfbane blooms</span></div>by C. D. Bennett<br />
<a href="http://echoesofdusk.com/">http://echoesofdusk.com</a><br />
<br />
The Moon has always been a source of strength and inspiration for me, and I suppose it could even be said that it has become my Muse when times were at their darkest, though in the beginning of my writing career, I was seldom granted such graces. Writing became my only outlet to survive in a world in which I truly felt alone. I conjured dreams of madness and horror, using my new-found medium to fight back in my own way. I never would have survived without it, I know that now. It was a dark road, and it would've been so much easier to give up and fall apart. It was never pity I sought or even acceptance, it was merely understanding. Even this, I learned, was a lot to ask, and for many years I wondered if I even had the strength to go on. But against all my critics and despite my own demons, I survived.<br />
<br />
Every writer has a story to tell. It's not a profession you take on lightly, and for many of us the Muse's first gift is pain. For anyone merely starting along this path, it may be years until you find peace with your gifts. The important thing is to never give in to doubt, be it from others or your own misguided fears. It won't be easy, but as they say, nothing worth having ever is. There will be darkness, and there will be light, but we must never lose who we are to the changing shades around us.<br />
<br />
We're all a little crazy. Let's face it, a "normal" person would never commit to this kind of life. So many people are content with just milling through life with nothing to say and even less to offer, braying to no end about the state of their world, but too timid to do anything about it. It's sad really. As writers we must find that Muse within ourselves to reach higher than that, to shout louder and write boldly. The world has enough sheep. A writer really only has two paths to choose: are you a shepherd, or a wolf?<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="color: #ea9999;"><span style="font-size: large;">Candy Worlds</span></div>by Tami Snow<br />
<br />
Sugary sweet the passage flows<br />
Rainbow dancing ribbon curls<br />
Bubblegum floating miniature worlds<br />
Spiral lollipop adventures unfurl<br />
<br />
Silky smooth like chocolate streams<br />
Licorice ropes they twirl and bend<br />
The dialogue found within my dreams<br />
Creating sprinkled worlds of pretend<br />
<br />
Join me down melted ice cream rivers<br />
Whipped cream clouds gaze from above<br />
From within my Sweet Tart heart to give<br />
Is a decadent treat of marshmallow love.<br />
<br />
Love.<br />
TamiAmber Vaylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01382992993531293983noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1113205835161395832.post-51900421172368630832011-01-17T22:03:00.000-08:002011-01-18T06:46:49.938-08:00Canary<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLg1cL-neyVwtrKh9305SUMxY8GihRfzCd68WWV3x57BuwVb0gIFwNVNqcoo0fRr8dtxReliQNqY71gzJSLSKjye-WXxT0U6oisaZnJot8GP62-wrabj6ZRQFjCFOOnkXlhYDlJXRg7O4c/s1600/canary.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLg1cL-neyVwtrKh9305SUMxY8GihRfzCd68WWV3x57BuwVb0gIFwNVNqcoo0fRr8dtxReliQNqY71gzJSLSKjye-WXxT0U6oisaZnJot8GP62-wrabj6ZRQFjCFOOnkXlhYDlJXRg7O4c/s320/canary.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>A Poem by Tami Snow<br />
<br />
<br />
For you I'd sing across the miles<br />
<br />
Touch your heart, make you smile<br />
<br />
My song a tune of happiness while<br />
<br />
Truly longing like that of a child's<br />
<br />
A canary only sings when it's lonely<br />
<br />
<br />
My melody soothing all of your tears<br />
<br />
A warbled symphony erasing your fears<br />
<br />
Locked in this precious cage for years<br />
<br />
Are you really listening, can you hear?<br />
<br />
A canary only sings, because he's lonely.<br />
<br />
<br />
Falsetto hymns flow from my meager form<br />
<br />
Easily disguising, just how deeply forlorn<br />
<br />
From realizing the truest of love, I'm torn<br />
<br />
Heart bleeding harmonies fated to mourn<br />
<br />
Canaries only sing tragedies, they're lonely.Amber Vaylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01382992993531293983noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1113205835161395832.post-48132801928349933682011-01-10T21:54:00.000-08:002011-01-10T21:54:43.776-08:00LOVE, LITERATURE & LOLLIPOPS<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Welcome to my literary love affair, Lyrical Lip Service. I hope you enjoy poking around these pages and peeking at the videos. It is hard to believe that a mere week ago this idea was borne into my overactive imagination and now here it is—in all its puckering pink splendor. How in the world did that happen? Hmm… Magic, perhaps?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">It is my hope to be given an opportunity to highlight the literary and artistic works of my friends on the LLS blog, as well as my YouTube page. (Pretty please, let me feature your talents?) I have felt a great sense of comradery while sharing blog space with my fellow Slaves to the Muse writers, and would love to offer a continuation in assisting writers to be heard. It is a very fulfilling endeavor, indeed.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">My love for reading has molded this site, as well as the idea behind the YouTube channel. May it bring a smile to your face, and warmth to your cheeks. May it inspire its visitors to pick up a book, and find love and wisdom through the written word. May it inspire a few to spill their souls on the page, as so many of us do. Happily, willingly and with much sacrifice.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">This adorable setting for my soul spillage would not be possible without the time and talent of a truly amazing friend of mine, Chris Bennett. Thank you, Chris. <3</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">All My Heart.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Love, </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Tami</span></div>Amber Vaylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01382992993531293983noreply@blogger.com7