~*~ Abandoned in the woods of my mind The music I used to make. The songs I used to sing. The choral symphonies and A cappella wonders that resonated So deeply at the time I could never Imagine my life without them. Then life happened. A new chapter unfolded. A change of direction. The … More Music Never Dies
There, upon a Tuscan Hill, Survey the cypress, tall and still Saluting to the burning sky As setting sun to all says “Arrivederci!” ~*~ Something a little quirky courtesy of my recent trip to Italia. Thanks for stopping by … Dorothy ©Dorothy Chiotti … Aimwell CreativeWorks 2014
~*~ Lights out … Lurking, Shadow dweller. Haunting and predatory. In the night You cross the boundary. Advance. Faceless, but not Formless. Familiar. Menacing. Paralysis overwhelms. Screams, But no sound. Terror’s creep keeps creeping. Shallow, my breath. * {Breathe.} * Thoughts form. {Be different.} Words speak. Low. Monotone. Controlled, somehow. “What do you want?” I … More Night Terror(ist)
~*~ My world ~ Breath by breath An ever-expanding, Colour-full balloon of Possibility. Easing toward divine potential. What changed? Me. ~*~ Took me a long time and a lot of personal work to begin to feel this way. It hasn’t been easy, but it has been worth it. And, the journey continues … Thanks for … More What Changed?
~*~ On hiatus. A moment suspended. Away. Relief. Respite. Relaxation. Vacation. That’s me! See you in a couple of weeks. Ciao! ~*~ Thanks for visiting … Dorothy ©Dorothy Chiotti, Aimwell CreativeWorks 2014
Summer’s first kiss A fantasy A fumble A moment made humble. Not stolen; Theft. ~*~ “Do you remember your first kiss?” Summer asked of her mother. “Oh, darling, that was such a long time ago.” She thought for a moment. “It certainly wasn’t with your dad.” “That would be a no, then?” Summer was despondent. “Yes, that … More Summer’s First Kiss
At this middle-age stage of life I wonder: “Is there time left for me to see and be my truth?” Recently, at therapy, a discussion around anger. My anger suppressed and turned inward. Emotionally-abandoned as a child, my MO became to hold all my hurt and anger in so as not to create any more reasons for the adults in … More Giving Voice to Anger
Today I have the distinct pleasure of interviewing one Shakespeare “The Equine,” a poet out standing in his field and, reportedly, a legend in his own mind. The Daily Haymaker: Good day, Mr. Shakespeare. Poet: Hay! And please, call me Mr. Bear. The Daily Haymaker: Right then, Mr. Bear. Lovely of you to join us from … More A Poet Out Standing In His Field
Weekly Writing Challenge: Poetry The Writer’s Nightmare No inspiration, There is none, I sit here, void, and Twiddle thumbs. It’s writer’s block that Bogs me down. The channel closed; My smile a frown. I patiently await a sign, A notion that Might just be mine, That from the Ether Will descend And soon to Earth … More The Writer’s Nightmare
Lambs in Spring Little white balls of beautiful fluff, Bouncing and prancing and that kind of stuff. Baaing and whimpering here and there Sometimes they’ll do nothing but stop and stare. Crying for mother on a lovely spring day, Mother comes running; decides to stay. Bounding and twisting round and round, Looking for something no … More Resurrection
Shedding Light on the Family Tree 