“Anything written from the heart is worth reading”

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When I lived in the Blue Ridge Mountains I was a successful artist with a private studio I showed my work and taught painting classes.  It was a time of expression.  I didn’t get the recognition I wanted until after my prior husbands death.  I flew to New York, being still in a state of denial, but desiring recognition from a gallery.  I made so many phone calls and finally I was invited to go and meet with “who I thought” was the curator.  He liked my unusual art form and was willing to take my work if I could produce 10 in a short time.

After returning back to the mountains, I realized I was unable to paint, so I lost my chance for …Maybe… a very successful career.  During this time I kept a journal and wrote about everything, thinking it would remain private.  Years went by, still writing, but my life had changed because I had married my dear husband I have now.  It was he who encouraged me to share my feelings and thoughts concerning the journey I had been on.  My journal became what is now my second book “Turbulent Sea of Emotions”.  All of a sudden I had men and women contacting me, expressing of how particular parts of the book seemed to be about them.

Now I find myself sharing the book with Chaplin’s and Pastors and an occasional reading.  It has been a wonderful experience and a blessing.  I was told once by a very successful author,

“Anything written from the heart is worth reading.”  I encourage new authors to not give up and if you think you are not making enough money or no one wishes to read your book, I encourage you to continue on.  1000 may read a book and that is great, but if your written word touches and changes one person in a positive way, IT IS WORTH ITpromotional cover turbulentsea_72

10promotional cover turbulentsea_72

.Copy of Picture 264

 

Picture 265

 

 

“Remembering the man I called Dad”

Picture 008

How Do We Say Goodbye?

The parents go to work and teach their children the best they can,
years of school and ballgames and first cars.
Dad staying up to see if they meet the curfew on thier first date,
then the children marry and go off on their own
Mom and Dad do what they always talked about doing with quality time.
Holiday’s come and its turkey and Carolers,
Grandkids waiting for Santa
Stockings and toys to prepare for the morning to come.
We celebrate life and we sometimes fail to cherish each day we live.
Time passes by so quickly, and then the grandkids are grown.
Mom and Dad stay at home waiting for family to come visit.
Sometimes we find ourselves too busy with our own lives
We say we’ll wait until next year.
Next year comes and goes; still we put off spending quality time
with those who taught us to be who we are now.
Now our parents’ health is failing
We rush to be by their side.
We have forgotten about all the promises we made over the years
Time is passing; sickness and fear take over, us loosing someone so precious
. How do we say good-bye?
How do we let go of the ones who taught us how to love and be on our own?
We rejoice that they are going home and that one day we will see them again
in the greatest of all places
We celebrate each day of their life reminiscing over the good times
We’ll help them pass peacefully without worry or fear
Then we let them go
How do we say goodbye?

We live each day of our life to the fullest in memory of them.

“Fallen Angel”

“Fallen Angel”

About “Fallen Angel”:  To Remember

Moonlight Angel

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I posted this poem about “Fallen Angel”, because it was written for a grieving Mother who had recently lost her  year old son.  He was on a two lane road at night, not doing anything wrong, and another car was in his lane, causing a head on collision. I didn’t know the woman well, but knew the Sister.  What words can you say to comfort at a time such as this?  I wrote what I could not say.  This was a very large and close knit family.   I did not expect what I had to say to have such an impact, but it did.

We as parents, Brothers and Sisters and all family, don’t realize allot of time how precious each day is.  Things unsaid, wounds not healed.  Now we have our Sons and Daughters, Husbands and Wives, fighting for our country, that I for one, sometimes forget.

 

 

Fallen Angel

I remember most of all the little things

From the moment I held him dear

All these memories, love is what it brings

Knowing in this time of loss, he is near

God, watch over this fallen angel

Who is with You now

Lord knows how much he will be missed

But I’ll get through it somehow

Family comes to mourn from near and far

Asking why

Let him be that shining star

High in heaven’s sky

God, watch over this fallen angel

Who will always have a special place in my heart

Give me strength to bear each day

Remembering his smile that from me will never depart

Heaven’s gates are open wide

To take this precious soul

Now with You he will reside

Having Your love and grace to console

God, watch over this fallen angel

Keep him close by Your side

Showered with Your everlasting love

Welcome him with Your arms open wide

But Lord, please understand

My grief I cannot hide

The is my dedication to the ones we lost and a reminder to EMBRACE the ones we have.  He has not been forgotten and the beautiful memories live on.

God Bless you All, Barb

Dedicated to Veronica (A dear and Wonderful friend) even though she is miles away.

‘Flying High”

Eagle

Flying High

When there are days that are too long and boring

Little projects that can’t keep you busy

And you wish to be somewhere else

Just imagine yourself as an eagle

Flying High

People pass you by in a state of disinterest

Family members are busy in their own world

Friends seem to be few and insincere

Think of the eagle, which sees everything

Flying High

You dream of faraway places

Knowing you’ll never have the  see opportunity to

Imagining how exciting it would be

When you think of yourself as an eagle

Flying High

When your years grow long

And you’re close to moving on to a better place

Standing on your belief that heaven is near

Imagine the angels lifting you up

And

Flying High

My Old House

bigstock-Old-small-country-wooden-house-35452715

My Old House

There is my old house, gray and worn.
I’ve lived in that old house since the day I was born
The screen doors are ragged and windows broken.
The cement porch steps are cracked and chipped,
And shingles are sparse and wind-whipped.

I played in that house with dolls and dishes.
I dreamt of boys and star-gazed wishes.
I cried when we were gone too long.
That was the home where I belonged.

School buses pulled up for us right out back,
And all of us kids were carrying a lunch sack.
Grandma doing wash and hanging it up,
In the yard, toys and tools strewn amuck.

As we became older and had our own,
We remembered the old house where we had grown.
Much love went into building that place.
Now the sight of it, what a disgrace!

Now years have passed and there it still stands.
I wish I could rebuild it with my own hands.
Grandma and Grandpa had us all there,
And all of us were happy, without a care.

I loved my old house.

A Road To Somewhere

rural roads

A Road to Somewhere

Each road is supposed to take us to a desired destination,

preferably a place we have chosen with care and thought.

My travels have been at random and with hesitation,

never knowing if I was running to or coming from something, or not.

To face your future, you must first deal with your past,

leaving behind the pain and reaching for something good.

Hoping for someplace or someone that would last,

and yearning to feel important, I never could.

My road did not have signs to tell how far I had been.

It was one few traveled, so no directions were given.

Was I running away, or rushing for my peace to finally begin?

Whatever the reason, it was an obsession, hard driven.

At over 50 years, I am again on a road, afraid and alone.

My parents as such, gave me no roots to call home.

The children are gone and all on their own,

so here I go on this endless road to roam.

God knows, an easy life I have not had.

Some good times were shared along the way.

Still my heart is weary for something,

but mostly sad.

Soft Spoken

Soft Spoken

She’s a woman softspoken in her ways
All call her a lady of grace
Hope her gentle nature always stays
A true one of beauty, in satin and lace

Her ways are soft and sweet
She’s one with a loving heart
Giving and sentimental, another you’ll never meet
Her acceptance of anyone
is right from the start

Freindships she has many
Their value is more than words can say
Enimies, she does not have any
To be giving is just her way

Feeling for a man, their is only one
Where the future takes them
The relationship has just begun
Her heart is open
and full of love for him

Not dealing with the past very good
It takes its tole in her mind
He comforts as a freind should
With his words, his affections are kind

She’s a woman softspoken in her ways
All call her a lady of grace
Hope her gentle nature always stays
A true one of beauty, in satin and lace