Author: paulaB

American born, Canadian raised, she/her, blogger, photographer, writer, history buff.
Blue Sky with clouds and person in shadow
letters

Learnings of An Optimistic Cynic GenXr For When This Cruel Ol’World Lets You Down

From sea to shining sea, the 3-headed monster of self-righteous evangelical missionary Christian continues its streak, bashing everyone over the head with their aggressive campaign to get everything they want, regardless of the majority, constitutionality, or if it does one damn thing for the common good. I’m certain my devote Anglican grandma would not recognize this violent, extremist right-wing version of faith and goodwill toward … Continue reading Learnings of An Optimistic Cynic GenXr For When This Cruel Ol’World Lets You Down

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poetry

from the logos Of stardust

lingering in the air unseen forces declare confusion, delusion as I stare into the void standing still, unrequited indulging lust release, receive, breath elemental Taurus of love, beauty, stability temperance guide my hand and mind authenticity my karmic destiny and lunar ecliptic energies creative entanglements, illuminate a disturbance of trust, of the force of my will, my self, revealed to me severs connectivity of it, … Continue reading from the logos Of stardust

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The Coves - Pond - London, Ontario, Canada
vignettes

Yeah, So Who Gets To Come Through The Hedgerow?

Sitting out on the stoop earlier this afternoon, watching the village go by, as I distract myself from the panic attack I was having. Various cars pulling into the bank, only to find it closed, amuses me. Like some secret only I know, and have no way of warning them, nor would I, if I could. Watch as the little girl blows bubbles out front, … Continue reading Yeah, So Who Gets To Come Through The Hedgerow?

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vignettes

“Look For Me, Somewhere Down That Crazy River”

And, so we danced. We danced all Saturday night, and into the early morning. Then we slept in my bed. Well, not only slept. I awoke, did my morning routine, made tea, gave some plants some water, and he slept. Mumbling strange, incoherent things, as I snuggled up with him again. And he slept some more. I woke him up again, made toast, he had … Continue reading “Look For Me, Somewhere Down That Crazy River”

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essays, vignettes

“Hope is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul”

And sings the tune without the words –And never stops – at all For those still paying attention, words have flitted through my mind, for days, weeks, months, a year or more now, I think. Here, then gone. Poof! Just so you know. I haven’t gone away, I’ve just had a hard time catching words. So much, too much, all at once. I lost my … Continue reading “Hope is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul”

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