(Poem of the Week) Diligence Not dismay with time it will grow Preparations beneath the birch tree in cultivated soil A picture of my...

(Poem of the Week) Tomorrow brings clarity A much needed light To see the crisis with tranquil might. —Cori Lark Corina, IV-8 Wunjo...

She came to get me from the trailer so I could help her. When we arrived in the woods, I looked down the hill and saw the head flopping. His neck was stretching up, but he couldn’t get up. His body was paralyzed. “Oh, my God,” I thought to myself, “he’s not dead.” The poor thing was shot in the shoulder. One bullet wouldn’t do it for this one. I waited on the hilltop for her to finish him off. A cool wind blew dead leaves across the ground between the trees. I stopped my tear

I waited patiently as the professor went around the table telling each student what he thought of their short story. He was kind to all of them. Then he got to me. “This, class,” he said with a touch of anger, “is the perfect example of a writer misleading the reader into believing something that is not true. It isn’t until a page later that she reveals the 'he' is actually an 'it'.” Looking back I wish I would have said, “I am the writer here. It’s my character’s perspecti

In silence see the enemy hiding blind inside. Wake up and see again the beginning. —Cori Lark IV-7 Mannaz Reversed Corina © 2007...

What are two of your favorite books? The Mists of Avalon by Marion Zimmer Bradley is my favorite novel. I love the magic because I don’t...

Welcome to another edition of Twilight Letters. Let’s dive deep into the world of Celia Blake. Join me on this enchanting journey. Celia...

You have an extra glow tonight. As I sit here in the stillness, the train whistle blows followed by the rhythm of steel wheels vibrating...

She has offered me a gift as I follow her. She tells me about partnership— separateness even as in union— My path leads back to her, the...

We spent the day forest bathing, shadows of sunlight dancing on our path. The smell of pine permeated as we breathed in the fresh air, washing it down with the water in bottles tied to our hips. We hiked the hills, leaves crunching beneath our feet, as we followed the sounds of water splashing down, searching for the promised cascades. Although we had visited before, Mom and I were fairly new to the area. We previously lived about an hour drive east of it. Together we bought

(Poem of the Week) IV-5 Following a naked breeze Misty kisses tickle my skin, wet lips sing silent through hazy days . . . My harem of...

(Poem of the Week) from part IV Alfresco Activities, Corina IV-1 I wait to be unfettered— free from scars embedded in my soul. Unbodied...

(Poem of the Week) III-14 Whispers Massaging Memories Into accepting minds Kissing, blessing, Addressing Words that hold They want to...

This particular blog is based on my opinions and the experiences I’ve had and witnessed through the years (such as mind, body, soul...

(Poem of the Week) I must be free to speak my mind Instead, I find I'm threatened. Once I clung We lingered on Lost inside our friendship. Now I open up my mind Slow, I see what we both hide . . . We trap ourselves We sit apart, yet Side by side— Speaking riddles By day subliminal By night . . . Invading serum reveals this nocturnal mind. Tell me what you find, For I can’t see past this week— This life has turned me blind— I feel a scream sneak up on me Slowly, it will subsid

The goddess Brigid is honored among Wiccans. In honor of Her, the holiday, Imbolc is celebrated. If you feel the call to light a white candle and make an offering to Her, please do so. The holiday actually dates back to pre-Christian, ancient Celts specifically in Ireland and Scotland but started even before then.

(Poem of the Week) A lunar eclipse evening past Three ways balanced Eyes open, I am. See lights of nature Raining for days Smooth minutes...

What do I think about New Year’s Resolutions? Well, to each’s own. They can be motivating, especially during the dire month of January....

“Four hundred years. Do you realize I have walked this earth sampling the blood of, what is that, seven, eight generations?” “Yes, my lord,” said Ambrus. “We have had some good times.” Terah poured himself some Bordeaux. Holding the goblet in his hands, his long fingernails clicking on the brass, he continued, “But I am bored, my friend. Are not you?” Ambrus walked to the other side of the table and removed his violin from the red velvet-lined case. “Shall I play for you?”

"I thought that the saddest thing that could happen was that something inside your head worked so hard to make it into the world and then...