Michele Lee Sefton's Blog, page 40

Go fly a kite!

Sharing a little Sunday sunshine.

my image

© 2023 MyInspiredLife

Laboring hands

Not all poetry is written

Some poems are
            welded with fire
            or carved from fine wood

Some poems are formed
            through chips, cracks, and erosionA laboring mind rests
long enough to see, feel, and understand
the abundant poetry created by hands, laboring

            sipping tea once rooted in rich soil, harvested by strong hands,
                        sun-leathered and earth-stained

            gliding a hand along a vintage dresser, carved by a sculptor of strong wood

            listening to soft strums of a guitar crafted by a third-generation artisan

            stepping across a sidewalk that holds the salt from a bricklayer’s sweat

            crossing a park carpeted in green, cut weekly by a man who tends to brown spots
                        while he daydreams

            reading poetry written by evening poets, who spend their days laboring
                        whose words contain their spirit and sweat

Poetry is not a vocation
            Poetry is a soul’s expression

I’ve had this post on my mind for a few months, although I wasn’t sure what the final product would look like. I never do until I begin to write. Labor Day weekend was the motivation I needed to bring these acknowledging words to life. The idea of writing about those who build, create, and beautify (with their bodies, hands, and minds) appeared with the merging of three thoughts: appreciating the hardworking world moving quickly around me, this song*, and thinking about my parents. My dad was a concrete man, and my mom built a life for herself using her strong hands. Great gratitude to those who quietly improve this world with their laboring hands.

Happy Labor Day weekend! Thanks for stopping by. Michele

*Let the Day Begin by The Call was the first song I had in mind. I came across this version last night. Enjoy!

Will catch up with y’all later, when the temps start soaring. With temps under 80 degrees (F.), I will be out exploring!

Featured image by Sondem, sunrise photo is my image

© 2023 MyInspiredLife

Tangled and Super Blue

Tangled and Super Blue, plays peekaboo.

The Last Super Blue Moon to rise until 2037.

my images, Super Blue Moon over the Sonoran Desert, August 30, 2023

© 2023 MyInspiredLife

Sticks and Stones

Sticks
            can warm bones

and

a solid foundation can be built with stones

but

words… well, words
            can hurt.


They can also heal.

I resisted taking a brief bloggy break, because I thoroughly enjoy reading and viewing what others share and I value exchanges with other creatives, but the call to step back last Saturday persisted. Breaks are important, regardless of the activity. It occurred to me during day two of my stepping away, that I could not leave comments unattended. That is not my way, so I did my best to respond to those while using my bloggy reading time to focus on some other life things. Rest and reflection can teach us many things. I was reminded how much I appreciate this space and the friendships I have made along the way. Thank you for being here! Michele

As of last night, we still have a few spots available in our current writing workshop, The Story You Need to Tell. The workshop is online and focuses on narrative therapy (writing to heal). It is a safe and supportive environment that nurtures healing and community. If you have any interest or questions, I would be honored to tell you more. I can be reached through my contact page.

If not obvious, or for those unfamiliar, my lines are adapted from the rhyme, “Sticks and stones can break my bones, but words shall never hurt me.”

my images, Lake Havasu, Arizona

© 2023 MyInspiredLife

Wondering Woman

Sunrise Forthcoming
from my Being a Woman-Forthcoming Poetry Collection

From the banished back row, she did step forward.
Her curves revealed by a full moon’s midnight glow,
extending from the side, to the middle of the road.
Along the edge, where the imposter merged with flesh,
a woman was seen kneeling, with head held low.
Possibly praying while changing a tire blown;
tasks not taught but learned on her own.
Desolate lands echoing hesitation and heaviness,
that within and around her, overflow.
Hands smudged by heavily worn treads.
Hands needing a rest from steering through darkness.
Hands shaped by constant clasping and clinging to hope.
She and her silent overhead traveling companion,
both borrowing their light, faintly shown.
A light too weak to remove shifting and distorted shadows,
but just enough to reveal a road unknown,
and to propel her toward
a sunrise forthcoming.

My morning meditation drew me in longer than I had planned. How glorious and grand! In my quiet time, during a morning painted the color of possibilities, I heard the whispers, loud and clear. Summer has invited me into her warm embrace. An invitation written with an ancient pen, sealed with a wax, golden. An invitation that I graciously accept. Following some blog/comment reading later today, I will be tumbling away for a few days…

Link to Littlest Birds by The Be Good Tanyas

“Well, it’s times like these I feel so small
And wild like the rambling footsteps of a wandering child
And I’m lonesome as a lonesome whippoorwill
Singing these blues with a warble and a trill
But I’m not too blue to fly, no I’m not too blue to fly

‘Cause the littlest birds sing the prettiest songs
The littlest birds sing the prettiest songs
The littlest birds sing the prettiest songs
The littlest birds sing the prettiest songs”

from Littlest Birds by The Be Good Tanyas

Her Coastal Cottage ~ Where Truth and Love Rise, now available as a paperback!

A most generous and thoughtful review was submitted by Selma in Japan.

Here is an excerpt from Selma’s review:

“I’ve no doubt this Author’s outlook on life and on being a woman is beautiful. How else could someone pen such an inspiring story that I wish every young woman would read?

Let’s stop polluting our girls’ minds about adulthood and give them access to stories like this one. Her Coastal Cottage–Where Truth and Love Rise is inspiring and taps into the experience of being an accomplished woman: strong and in her zone of wonderful. And she has love in her life!

I celebrate this Author for sharing these words in this lovely novella with such an important life lesson. Author Michele Lee Sefton is an unpolluted voice to rise above the sullied contemporary noise of today.

Get this lyrical love story for yourselves; get it for your daughters: it’s short enough to grasp their attention, moving enough to delight and surprise them, and deep enough to linger in their hearts. And yours too!”

Great gratitude to Selma and to you, treasured reader, for stopping by and reading this far! Wishing you a wonderful weekend full of laughter and possibilities! Michele

featured photo by J. Chizhe

my sunrise and bird photo

© 2023 MyInspiredLife

Man, am I dreaming?

Let me look at you,
before you get undressed.
Less is not always more,
more is sometimes best.
In your tailored attire,
adorned with a Guccie tie,
covering a physique so fine.
Sigh
Your collar getting tight?
Don’t change a thing,
Dearest Darling.
I could stare all night.

Before you loosen that tie
and pop those buttons,
I have an idea…
I hope you’re willing to try.

Roll up those sleeves
and slip those digits
into the wet sudsy sink
and scrub those pots.
Show them whose boss!
Be gentle with my mugs.
Do handle with care.
From heavenly hands
they are made-
my only pair.
Dishes now glistening
with your special touch.
To that laundry basket,
I’ll watch you strut,
then bend over.
In form fitting slacks
picking up
towels and socks–
a form so fine,
I don’t care how
you fold and tuck.
Do take your time.

I can’t believe
what I am seeing.
Man, I must be dreaming.

Link to Mannish Boy by Muddy Waters

Poem first published May 12, 2021. Worth a revisit, with an updated photo and an added song that struts. Ooh yeah! Sing it Muddy! Happy housekeeping.

featured photo by The Stock Company

© 2023 MyInspiredLife

Moon Meditation, Morning Sprinkles

Morning Sprinkles

Formed south of the southern coast of Mexico, Hilary’s fierce twirling along the west coast has drenched and damaged and has left thousands without power. Creating a State of Emergency. She may have sucked up the desert heat and used it to fuel her spinning fury. She has caused destruction and chaos for our neighbors to the west while desert kids, waiting for the school bus, splash in puddles and lick raindrops from their parched lips.

Moon Meditation (Sunday night)

I hear the hum of nearby neighbors under lights golden. Laughter floating. Jazz streaming. A night in no hurry, no need to rush.

A light wind moves the tops of trees while crickets sing under a waxing crescent.

This beautiful August night feels strangely so. No trace of heat or insects that sting. The cool breeze blowing my hair and brushing my skin belongs near the Pacific Ocean not the Sonoran. I close my eyes and breathe it in. The cradle in the sky welcomes my thoughts, but unsettled, I am.

………………..

Under the same moon, a few hundred miles to the west, our California neighbors are dealing with mass flooding and damage caused by a rare Tropical Storm. The first of its kind in eighty-four years, the weather experts report.

………………..

The music and laughter stopped. The golden lights were turned off. The crickets carried on.

my images

© 2023 MyInspiredLife

Moon Meditation

I hear the hum of nearby neighbors under lights golden. Laughter floating. Jazz streaming. A night in no hurry, no need to rush.

A light wind moves the tops of trees while crickets sing under a waxing crescent.

This beautiful August night feels strangely so. No trace of heat or insects that sting. The cool breeze blowing my hair and brushing my skin belongs near the Pacific Ocean not the Sonoran. I close my eyes and breathe it in. The cradle in the sky welcomes my thoughts, but unsettled, I am.

………………..

Under the same moon, a few hundred miles to the west, our California neighbors are dealing with mass flooding and damage caused by a rare Tropical Storm. The first of its kind in eighty-four years, the weather experts say.

………………..

The music and laughter stopped. The golden lights were turned off. The crickets carried on.

my image

© 2023 MyInspiredLife

The Scars We Don’t See (poet spotlight)

from, The Scars We Don’t See, a micro-fiction collection by Cassa Bassa:“On My Mind” (excerpt)

I long to be far away with my thoughts on a long-stretched highway between tall pines breaking apart into yellow and ultramarine blue… I don’t ever feel that I fall short of my own shadow when light is all there is to tell a different story.

………………….

“Mama” (excerpt)

Mama, I finally moved back home from the theatre limelight. I don’t know what took me so long to resign from the stale cigarettes and rancid wine. I guess I wasn’t thinking all that straight.

Before I decided to move back, I dreamed of you one night. We rode our bikes to that big pine tree by the beach. I wore the turquoise fairy dress you bought me for my 5th birthday. It was a breezy sunny day…

………………….

“Passionate Death” (excerpt)

It is times like this I wonder if the line is too blurry or my mind is filled with opiate, in between trembling and dead calm, losing control and yet, holding with such a firm grip.

Tell me, where do you want to land? Will you let go?

………………….

In addition to working with disadvantaged people in her community, Cassa Bassa is a writer and blogger. You can find her blog and other publications at Flicker of Thoughts.

I could write an entire post about the collection’s title alone! Cassa has a unique writing voice that surprised me at turns. The unpredictability and the rawness found in her writing kept me engaged. I find the same to be true of the writing found on her blog. I finished her collection yesterday, and after reading the piece, “Passionate Death,” I was compelled to spotlight her work. Cassa’s book traveled with me to Ireland and back. I read it on the plane and during quiet moments. The bent and dog-eared condition of my copy shows one that was loved. Click here to preview and purchase, The Scars We Don’t See, published by Raw Earth Ink.

“Children show scars like medals. Lovers use them as a secrets to reveal. A scar is what happens when the word is made flesh.”

~ Leonard Cohen, The Favorite Game

Reading is a relaxing complement to summer’s restorative rhythm.

Best to you! Michele

featured image by Mostafa Aboelela

my book and sunset image

© 2023 MyInspiredLife

Truth Sparkles in the Darkness

Truth, she was seeking
the dark night held hope for its deliverance
a promise not made, but one worth keeping
not with a shout of allegiance but with a whisper of actions

she was seeking,
            the truth heard in a baby’s giggle
            the truth seen during spring’s vibrant burst
            the truth felt during daybreak’s first

a truth not found on the surface

her tattered white flag, she tossed on the steamy heap
a useless sail in the waters, deep
match struck; a flame first fragile, soared to the sky
            exploding the dark night
reducing the meaningless
into something
transformative, something grander

A soothing lover,
the warm water wrapped around her
carrying her toward depths yet known
weightless, she becomes

fear not felt and promises not necessary
where truth flourishes, awakening one’s own

Thank you for reading! Warm regards. Michele

Her Coastal Cottage – Where Truth and Love Rise is now available as a paperback.

featured image by Dmitry Laudin

my water image

© 2023 MyInspiredLife