Write away. / My imagination takes flight, / a story starts to form, / characters begin to take shape. / My imagination takes flight, / plotting away. / Characters begin to take shape / in my mind. / Plotting away, / busy / in my mind. / Help!

A hearty welcome to Rue Arrow and her poem, 'My Prisoner, The Bug,' which she has generously agreed to let me share with you. You can check out more of Rue's work at ruearrow.com and at ruearrow.substack.com.

'It's a Gift, I Think' covers some (but certainly not all!) of the feelings that writers may experience. The feeling that what you're writing is stupid and that no one will ever want to read it. The fear of criticism. The confusion over why we're so drawn to writing (I'm not the only one who marvels at that, am I?). The desire to make a difference with the words that we are given...

I think it best to always savour sunset glow / For we cannot say when we'll find / We've run out of time, and be reminded / That we...

Happiness seems to be slipping through Naomi’s outstretched hand like so many grains of elusive, shining sand...

"I scampered up onto the ceiling, checked and double-checked my anchoring, and lowered myself by one shining, silvery thread..."

I have two laugh worthy poems for you today. The first poem, titled herein as Perplexing Plurals, came to my attention in an email from...

horn! horn! Rain or shine, goose girl free your furry friends from the cage and took him to the green forest. Use a long stick to…

Part I There was a little acorn, tiny as could be. And from that little acorn, a baby seedling was born, and from that baby seedling,...

Two hats. Tea and cookies. Beautiful red shoes. Pearls.