When Doves Die

When Doves Dies

#prayforsanity
#protestart
#mouseart

 

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BRINDLEY 2.0: POWERED BY PLEX

BRINDLEY 2.0: POWERED BY PLEX
Let the journey begin!

Today I begin my cross-country trip with my sons to LA to join the rest of the cast and crew to film our movie LEAVE.

Pretty awesome.

And unbelievable.

As I’ve expressed here and on other networks often in the past and even more lately, there are many wonderful and supportive people who helped me through many adversities these past several years to allow me to be in this fortunate position I am now in.

This could get long and teary-eyed so I’ll save everyone the time and me the embarrassment and cut to the proverbial chase:

Outside my immediate family, I am hard-pressed to think of anyone who has supported me more, through times bad and good, with his physical, spiritual, and financial presence and care, than my long-time friend, my mentor, and my boss, Paul Weidow.

LEAVE would absolutely not be possible without Paul’s and his partner Stan Nolen’s (another long-time friend and eternal brother) generosity towards and faith in me.

Paul bringing me on part-time to be a member of his PLEX Solutions family, allowed for a stress-free transition back to normalcy and under terms very, very favorable to one still fragile and unsure of himself, yet one in great need of validation of worth, as well as one in great need of the time and funds to support and develop his movie-making dream, a dream that now, in much part because of him, is only days away from becoming a reality.

Thank you, Paul. I love you, brother.

Check out this amazing guy’s amazing company >> www.plex-llc.com


And please remember, LEAVE still requires much more support in the form of love, currency, outreach, and effort to ensure not only its completion, but its completion in a manner that enables us to fully realize our vision:

To Create a Cinematic Work of Art that
Entertains and Inspires Positive Change

#beliveinleave >> PLEASE DONATE

 
 

Poetry Is My Balm

Many of the haiku and other poems in Short Verses & Other Curses were written as a therapeutic balm in response to my cancer. I don’t know why or how I survived all that nonsense but I suspect writing the poems helped at least a little.

Recent events make it seem to me that my country is suffering such a life-threatening and cancerous disease so I was naturally drawn to some of the poems I wrote for the collection. To some degree they helped again, if only as a temporary distraction from present reality.

I doubt if these poems have any healing power potent enough for all the ills sickening my nation; however, it is out of love and desperation that I shall share them with you now.

For the next day or so, please feel free to download the collection. If any of the poems move you in any way, I ask that you share your thoughts here in the comment section. If you have any other poetry that you believe will help relieve a troubled soul, I ask that you also share those with us as well.

You may download the collection by clicking on its book cover.
 
Short Verses

Peace.


Thank you to all who downloaded a copy of the book and especially to those who left me such kind, encouraging comments. They mean very much to me.

 
 

PARIS | A Relating to Humans Women’s Issues Feature

PARIS
by elizabeth stokkebye

Seventeen and in Paris on my own.

It was my first encounter with the city of love and I was fortunate to stay with an aunt and uncle, who both being workaholics, left me with oceans of time to explore. I hurried out the door to experience the vast world of Paris with its majestic architecture, its towering cathedrals, its world-renowned art collections, its peaceful parks, and its crowds of people.

The air was spring like, mild and sunny, although I was spending my Christmas holiday away from my home in Denmark. Traveling by myself in a foreign world filled me with a sensation of pure freedom. I remember how my breathing felt different: effortless and silent but steady and consistent. It was breathing devoid of depression and anxiety. I breathed without past or future and let the air be present.

Walking along grand boulevards beneath a blue sky sporting white clouds I felt my loving heart circulate blood through my veins.

On my way past one of the many cafés lining the wide sidewalk, my sway caught the attention of a street performer playing his violin. As I danced by him he let go of his instrument and started to sing Ne me quitte pas. I stopped, turned around, and listened to his chanson. Was he performing especially for me?

My youthful disposition was romantic and I was attracted to him. At the same time, I could hear my mother’s voice: “I’m so proud to have brought up a good girl!” I didn’t move. When he was done with the song, he waved me over. I blushed but followed his hand. He grabbed mine and kissed it. I felt the touch of his soft lips. My skin everywhere reacted by turning prickly and my breathing intensified.

“Ma Cherie,” he whispered.

All of a sudden my body felt heavy and I pulled away. Caught between wanting to leave and wanting to stay, I sat down on a bistro chair.

“Please, I need a minute,” I uttered.

“Bien sûr!” he smiled.

He put his violin to his neck once again and with closed eyes, he played the sweetest melody riding through the air and penetrating the toughest disposition.

Paralyzed, I tried to think. Should I leave or should I stay? My sense of freedom had slowly vanished which made the decision so much harder. The guy was cute, romantic and talented.

A waiter came over and I asked for a café au lait. As more people gathered around to listen to the soft music, I started to relax. He didn’t sing again which made me feel special.

Immersed in the music, I let go of time. Slowly, the morning faded, noon hour came around, and with his violin case full of money, he sang out:

“La dernière chanson!”

From his slender body came Que je t’aime and I didn’t know where to look. My gaze fell on a young woman advancing hurriedly towards us and embodying a sense of pure joy. She stepped right up to my singer and kissed him on the mouth.
 

elizabethstokkebye.com


 

HAVE YOU SEEN THIS?

 
 

So, about that newsletter of mine…

Have you had a chance to check out what’s going on with Newsletter Love lately? We recently announced that we will be sending out 2015 in style, meaning me sharing your poetry and other writing via the newsletter on New Year’s Eve and with a selected few being published right here on the blog as my first post for 2016.

So check it out, subscribe, and help us send 2015 out in poetic style.

Right on?

Write on!

 
 

Hope Debuted

Bruises and Scars
 

are you who you were
are you your bruises and scars
is that who you are

or are you each day renewed
your past relieved, hope debuted

 
 

An Ode to a First True Love

MEMOIR MONDAY PROMPT

For many of us – most I would presume – we were rather promiscuous before finding that first true love.

Without regard, and very often with hardly little or no desire at all, we’d go from one to another without ever once finding a connection or even a slightest pang of affection.

But then, from nowhere and completely unexpected, you find the one and everything opens up before you. You enter worlds you never imagined existed. You are forever changed. You have met your first true love.

For today’s prompt…

In an Alternate Rhyming Scheme (ABAB CDCD EFEF GHGH), write an ode to your very first true love – first true literary love that is. Write an ode to the first book that truly opened up your heart to the love of literature and set you on a lifelong reading romance of passion and adventure…


This may explain things a bit.
Submissions close at 7pmish.
Selection announced sometime thereafter.
No comments other than submissions for the prompts please. All comments welcome for the selection when published, however.
Please “Like” those submissions you like.

It should be noted that, as stated on the Disclaimer page and the Relating to Humans guidelines, a “Like” by me does not necessarily mean I like or endorse a submitted work. My “Like” is foremost intended as a means of acknowledging a submission; though chances are pretty good I may like it, as well.