Welcome to Day #2 of the WATCH “#RWISA” WRITE Showcase Tour! #RRBC #RRBCWRW @Rhanidchae

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Hello, my wonderful guests!  Thank you all for joining me today on this amazing showcase tour being sponsored by RWISA (RAVE WRITERS – INT’L SOCIETY OF AUTHORS), an elite branch of the amazing RAVE REVIEWS BOOK CLUB!

This showcase will feature 19 amazing writers, each having their own special day of being featured on multiple blogs.  I, along with the other supportive hosts, ask that after reading the written work of art by each RWISA Author, that you click on the link designated to take you directly to that author’s profile page on the actual RWISA site.  On my blog, that link will be the author’s name.

Today’s special guest:

AUTHOR, RHANI D’CHAE 

Rhani D'Chae photo

and her piece is entitled…

“THE WEEK MY FATHER DIED”

I was at work when my mother called to tell me that dad had been rushed to the hospital the night before, suffering from excruciating pain in his abdomen.

Dad had been diagnosed with prostate cancer about fifteen years earlier and it had spread to other parts of his body, but he had been doing fairly well so there was no reason to anticipate something like this.

Mom told me that dad had spent quite a bit of time at the hospital while they ran numerous tests to discover the cause of his pain. Long story short, his kidneys were failing and there was nothing that could be done. He was sent home with a hospice nurse, so that he could be with his family in comfortable surroundings when the end came.

We rented a hospital bed and put it next to the front window so that he could see outside into the yard. We kept instrumental hymns playing on the stereo and moved mom’s chair closer to the bed so that she could be nearer to him.

And that’s when things started to get a little crazy.

James, my seeing eye son, was living with mom and dad at the time, and my sister, who I was living with at the time, drove out with me every day.  Gail, my other sister, also came out daily, as did her husband, her four children and their collection of young ones.

Gail’s grandkids were all under ten and did not really understand the severity of the situation. They knew that Papa was going home to see Jesus, but that was about as far as it went. Gail’s family had never lived close to mom and dad, so their kids only saw my parents three or four times a year. None of them had a close relationship with dad, so the thought of losing him did not rate overly high on their radar.

For five days, the kids ran through the house, slamming the doors and yelling to each other. Even when they were sent outside, the noise was loud enough to be heard everywhere in the house. Their respective parents would occasionally tell them to tone it down, but they were kids and that’s what kids do.

At one point, one of my nephews-in-law decided to commemorate the occasion by putting it on film. He videotaped everyone going to my father’s side and saying goodbye. Maybe it was the stress of the situation, but I didn’t like what he was doing. My father’s death was not a photo-op, and I resented anything that made it seem that way.

I remember being called into the living room and told to say something to dad. I had already spoken to him several times, telling him that I loved him and assuring him that mom would be taken care of. Having my niece’s husband dictate to me where to stand and how long to talk so that he could get it on film, was infuriating.

As six families moved through the house each day, my mother spent most of her time sitting with dad, reading the Bible to him and making the most of the time that remained. She loved having her family close, but as the days passed, I could see that the noise and constant disruption was getting to her. I did speak to my nieces individually on several occasions, asking if they could please keep the kids quiet, at least in the house. They always said they would, and I know that they meant it at the time, but it never happened. The noise, the chasing from room to room, and the constant interruptions into my parents’ private space, continued. I could see that it was upsetting my mother, and I finally decided to put my foot down.

I took my mom and Gail into the bedroom and asked mom what she wanted or needed. She thought about it for a long moment and then said, very simply, that she wanted to answer the phone. Either Gail or one of her daughters had been taking the phone calls and making a list of the callers. Mom wanted to speak to those people, most of them from her church and was upset that she was not being allowed to do so. And she wanted the volume around her to be turned down to a much less disruptive level.

Gail said that she would take care of it, and she did. Within hours, her grandkids had been taken by their fathers to another location. I didn’t know where they went, and I didn’t much care. They were gone, the house was quiet, and that was all that mattered to me.

Later in the day, James, my other sister Sharon and I, took mom to Cold Stone for some ice cream. Dad was fairly unresponsive by then, so she felt that it was okay to take a little break.

We were gone for about an hour, and by the time we got back, everyone else was back as well. But at least mom had a few hours of uninterrupted time with dad, and I’m so grateful that the girls understood and were willing to do what was needed to give her that.

My father passed that night, surrounded by family and carried home on the sound of our voices singing his favorite hymns. Standing in a semi-circle around the bed, we held hands as we sang, while my brother-in-law, a minister, laid his hands on my father’s head and prayed him home.

As cancer deaths go, my father’s was fairly quick. He had been fully functional up until the night he went to the emergency room, enjoying his life without much discomfort. He avoided the long hospital stays and horrific pain that are so often a part of that kind of death. My aunt Gloria died of lung cancer when I was eighteen or so. I went to see her in the hospital, and I remember a shrunken figure in the bed, hooked up to monitors and numerous IV lines. Her time of dying took several long and torturous weeks, and I will always be thankful that my father was spared a similar end. I would have hated to have my last memory of this strong and vital man, be that of a wasted shadow of the man that he had always been.

I thank the Lord that it didn’t go that way.

Thank you so much for dropping by to support Rhani on her special day of the showcase!  We hope that you will continue to follow the showcase by heading to Twitter and searching the #RRBC and the #RRBCWRW hashtags so that you can find and follow each author’s post.

Enjoy!

***

How would you like to become a RWISA Member so that you’re able to receive this same awesome FREE support?  Simply click HERE to make application!

 

 

 

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Welcome to Day #1 of the WATCH “#RWISA” WRITE Showcase Tour! #RRBC #RRBCWRW

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Hello, my wonderful guests!  Thank you all for joining me today on this amazing showcase tour being sponsored by RWISA (RAVE WRITERS – INT’L SOCIETY OF AUTHORS), an elite branch of the amazing RAVE REVIEWS BOOK CLUB!

This showcase will feature 19 amazing writers, each having their own special day of being featured on multiple blogs.  I, along with the other supportive hosts, ask that after reading the written work of art by each RWISA Author, that you click on the link designated to take you directly to that author’s profile page on the actual RWISA site.  On my blog, that link will be the author’s name.

Today’s special guest:

AUTHOR, LAURA LIBRICZ

Laura (2)

and her piece is entitled…

“THE PROTECTIVE PLAGUE”

From the Overlord’s house came a quiet but vicious argument. I walked past the stately, tiered structure, decorated with wooden carvings. The other houses circling the town square stood quietly: the midwife’s red wooden house built up on stilts; the ironworkers’ blue housing complex and their adjoining workshop also built on stilts; the dark-brown community building, windows tightly shuttered.

I set my basket down in the middle of the square. The fountain marking the village center bubbled behind me as a mouse scurried around its stone base. The door of the Overlord’s house slammed open and he appeared on the top step. A woman’s sobs came from inside the house. He raised his nose to the sky and sniffed at the air, his black, wiry hair standing on end. He approached the fountain, his black woolen cape fluttering behind him.

“The weather has changed,” the Overlord said.

“You notice such things, Master?” I asked. “Today is the Turn of the Season; coupled with the full moon.”

“Yes, that is why you tie those wreaths of herbs,” he said. “Silly old traditions.”

“We will burn them at sunset on the Field of Fruition. These old traditions give the people comfort.”

“Your traditions have no power,” he said. “This year we initiate my new ritual. The One True Deity is not appeased with burning herbs.”

“What will appease your Deity then, Master? Burning flesh?”

The door of the red house squeaked open. The midwife flurried towards the fountain carrying a spray of reeds. Two red-haired daughters followed behind her. They carried baskets overloaded with sage and wormwood.

“Good day, Master,” she said, dropping her reeds at my feet.

Her black hair, not colored carefully enough, showed red roots at her scalp. I moved between her and the master, hoping he had not seen her hair, and gathered three reeds in my hands. I braided their stalks. Her daughters set the baskets down on the stone steps of the fountain and the midwife pulled both girls to her side.

“The workshop is quiet this morning,” I mentioned.

“The men have crossed the ford to the settlement beyond the Never-Dying Forest. They’ve taken our surplus of food and hope to trade. Years ago, the forest villagers made fabrics.”

The Overlord chuckled. “Foolish men. No one lives beyond the water and the forest but barbarians. They don’t trade, they take.”

I held my braided reeds aloft. “Our petition tonight at the bonfire is to ask for the safety of all villagers involved, whether they come from Forest Village or Field Village.”

“There will be no bonfire tonight,” he said.

As if by the Master’s silent command, the double doors on the community building slid open. Five leather-clad men, adorned with weapons of glinting steel, took two steps forward. Five young women draped with dirty white shifts, hands and mouths bound, knelt behind their ranks. I recognized the midwife’s eldest daughter and the barrel maker’s granddaughter.

“My new Turn of the Season tradition starts today.” The Overlord nodded to the troop. The men grabbed each of the young women under the arms and dragged them into the square. They were forced to kneel on the stone steps by the fountain. The overlord’s daughter was also among them.

“These women will be taken against their will on the Field of Fruition. The One True Deity will come to accept the eggs as soon as they are fertilized. I will summon him. The women and their fruits belong to him. He will exalt them and admit them into his glorious mountain realm.”

I threw my reeds aside. “Our traditions and petitions are based on protecting our villagers, not sacrificing them.”

“These women are ripe. We have prodded them all. The One True Deity will have this offering.”

“Men cannot enter the Field of Fruition at the Turn of the Season. It will bring us harm so close to the coming winter.”

“Your foolish traditions cannot keep the furies of winter at bay. Harm will only come if one of these women becomes pregnant. That would prove her self-seeking nature, her desire to retain the fruits for herself. She will be executed.”

The midwife let out a shriek. The overlord stroked his daughter’s matted hair.

“If she becomes pregnant,” he said, “we will also know she enjoyed the act. She will have defied The One True Deity. Women cannot become pregnant when taken against their will.”

He took two steps forward, his face a breath away from mine. “These women can be saved. Here they are. Save them. Save them now but know this: four others will take their places. You shall be the fifth.”

He turned with a swish of his cape and, followed by his armed mob, disappeared into the community house.

The midwife and I unbound the women. Together we gathered the wreaths, all our herbs and reeds, and walked out of the square towards the Field of Fruition. The sky was overcast. Rains threatened. Two women and their children stood at the edge of the green field, bundling straw. They piled it neatly on a cart. Two other women whacked the lazy ox and the cart jerked into movement.

In the middle of the Field of Fruition, wooden planks stood in support of one another, forming an inverted cone. Mice scurried under my feet and under the cone. The planks were once an old barn. In its place, we built a new one. Since the great flood, our village had prospered. We had practiced our Traditions of Gratitude ever since. I gave silent thanks for the abundance of grain that allowed even the mice to multiply.

“The moon is coming up over the trees,” I said. “We will start the fire now.”

The midwife scraped her knife on her stone and sparks flew into a pile of straw. She convinced the fire to burn and we fed the flames until the dried planks ignited. I raised my wreath of braided reeds over my head as mice scurried out from under the burning planks.

Our peaceful but preventive petition resonated between our practiced voices. We’d recited the verses many times and shuddered with the energy they held. I threw the wreath on the fire; sparks flew into the low storm clouds. More mice scurried over my feet. I looked down and the Field of Fruition was no longer autumn-green, but mouse-grey. A layer of mice had gathered, completely covering the Field–a protective plague ensuring the fulfillment of our petitions of peace and gratitude. Well, this was not what I had in mind, but it would do. No ill-wisher would enter this field tonight.

***

Thank you so much for dropping by to support Laura on her special day of the showcase!  We hope that you will continue to follow the showcase by heading to Twitter and searching the #RRBC and the #RRBCWRW hashtags so that you can find and follow each author’s post.

Enjoy!

***

How would you like to become a RWISA Member so that you’re able to receive this same awesome FREE support?  Simply click HERE to make application!

What Would You Do? #RRBC

I turn on my television today and just happen upon a talk show discussing a homeless man, who was cruelly subjected to ice water being dumped on him, as he slept in a Dunkin Donuts Shop.

Take a look at the video below.  I must warn you, though, if you have a heart, it’s not easy to watch:

As you can tell, not only was this poor man humiliated after having been physically assaulted with the water, but, the culprit then lashes out at him verbally.  Oh, and let me not forget to mention the ‘brilliant’ camera guy who’s recording the whole thing, tickled pink at the misfortune of this poor man.

My eyes filled with tears as I watched this man jump up from the shock of the cold, knock his cell phone over onto the floor (probably breaking it in the process), and then calmly and respectfully explain why he was asleep.  “It was an accident,” he said, only to be called a liar.

My question to you is this:  What will it take for us to become a little more compassionate towards each other?  How much more hate of ourselves must we heap unto others, before we realize, it is that which we see in other’s situations that frightens us to the point of poor behavior?  But why?  What’s the motivation?

I believe it’s because we realize that we, too, could one day be in similar situations.  It could just as easily be us, sitting in a restaurant, hungry, too tired to stay awake – accidentally falling asleep.

The culprit, who in my opinion doesn’t look any more blessed than the victim, feels that by “shaming” this man, it somehow builds up his own situation…whatever that may be.

I am filled with questions today and I need you to help me come up with answers…ones that might make sense to me. I mean, help me to understand this – Why must we tear others down to make ourselves feel bigger?  Why must we make others hurt, to make ourselves feel stronger and more powerful?

I don’t know if you can answer those difficult questions for me, but, I have my own take on these kinds of situations, and they are lessons we all must learn.

A man is no less a man simply because he has no bed of his own, or, a place to call home.  Even if he rides the bus, or stands outside of a store, asking for food…shoes without holes in them, foreign to him…he is still a man.

What separates the men from the boys, is that the one who lives in a mansion, high on a hill, with the most beautiful mountainous view and who also drives the finest cars…the one who so vigorously shakes the grime-filled hand of one whose clothes are dirty and tattered – when many others might look away and pretend to not see, this one not only gifts with food, but sits down next to him to eat, then calls him “friend” – that is a man.

What you saw in the video above were just two “boys” whose lives are probably worse than the man they victimized and who were either never taught or never learned how to be real men.

Would you like to know what happened to those ‘boys’? Well, it’s been reported that Dunkin’ Donuts suspended them, pending an investigation. Though based on the video footage, I’m not quite sure why an investigation would be needed.  The not-so-smart miscreants recorded their crime for the entire world to see, so I say, suspension was much too good for them.

And, what of  the man who was victimized because he accidentally fell asleep in a donut shop?  Well, now he’s no longer nameless.  Per WKTV News Channel 2, his name is Jeremy Youngs.  It was also reported that an aunt of Mr. Youngs has said that he has mental challenges, which makes what those ‘boys’ did to him, even more sickening.

I learned a long time ago that you never know what someone else might be going thru and it is because of that ignorance, that I try to be as decent a human being as is humanly possible.  I don’t turn my nose up at those who might appear to have less than I do.  I don’t frown upon those whose homes are not in as nice a neighborhood as mine, and I have never tried to make my worst day better by making someone else’s harder.

I don’t feel sorry for Jeremy Youngs.  I feel sadness for those ‘boys’, who at their ages, never learned how to be real men.  But, I feel the saddest for the children they might be father to now, or might one day become father to, because it is those innocent little souls who will watch and learn how not to be decent human beings, simply because of a sperm deposit.

So, can you answer my questions now?

Until next time…

Jump on board the #RRBCTreatReads Blog Hop! #RRBC #RWISA

Hello, ladies and gentleman!  I’m back with a lot of fun for you to dive into and some amazing reads hot on my “tail,” as they say down in Texas.

For 13 days, the amazing RAVE REVIEWS BOOK CLUB is hosting a blog hop for the grand prize winner, the runner-ups and the finalists in the 2017 KCT INT’L LITERARY AWARDS CONTESTS!  Now, all of these members are RWISA Members and that means that you can bet your bottom dollar, the reads are good!  (If you don’t know about RWISA, hurry and check them out!)

I’m sharing the Line-up here because I can just feel you itching for some good reads and you can definitely find one here, every day thru the 30th.

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“TREAT” READS BLOG HOP LINE-UP

Tuesday, 9/18/18: “THE IMPROBABLE JOURNEYS OF BILLY BATTLES” by Ronald Yates

Wednesday, 9/19/18:  “IN THE SHADOW OF LIES” by Mary Adler

Thursday, 9/20/18:  “LETTING GO INTO PERFECT LOVE” by Gwen Plano

Friday, 9/21/18:  “SON OF MY FATHER” by Peggy Hattendorf

Saturday, 9/22/18:  “EXCLUSIVE PEDIGREE” by Robert Fear

Sunday, 9/23/18:  “ONE DYKE COZY” by Rhani D’Chae

Monday, 9/24/18:  “OUTSHINE” by Karen Ingalls

Tuesday, 9/25/18:  “TURPITUDE” by Bernard Foong

Wednesday, 9/26/18:  “DOG BONE SOUP”  by Bette A. Stevens

Thursday, 9/27/18:  “HIEROGLYPH” by Wendy Scott

Friday, 9/28/18:  “THE WAY TO HER HEART” by Amy Reece

Saturday, 9/29/18:  “ELEMENTS” by Nia Markos

Sunday, 9/30/18:  “DESTINY’S PLAN” by Victoria Saccenti

Sunday, 9/30/18:  “THE RECTOR:  A CHRISTIAN MURDER MYSTERY” by Michael Hicks Thompson

I’d love for you to assist me in helping to promote these awesome reads, and here is how you can lend your support:

1)  Pick up a copy of one of these amazing books, if you haven’t already;

2)  Follow along each day by heading to Twitter, performing a search there for #RRBCTreatReads, clicking the “Latest” tab and then re-tweeting all the tweets you see which include the hashtag #RRBCTreatReads;

3)  Leave a comment below to show your support and it will also garner you an entry into a raffle for a gift card after the hop has ended.  This is a win win situation, if I ever did see one!

That’s all there is to it!  Nothing hard about it.

Thanks so much in advance for your support and the next time, I promise you an amazing, thought-provoking blog post!  I know how much you love those!

Take care…

(If you’d like to become a member of the RAVE REVIEWS BOOK CLUB where author support is overwhelmingly amazing, simply JOIN US!)

Do You Know Your Rights? #RRBC

It baffles me that so many people don’t know their constitutional rights, so today, I want to share with you those rights, as outlined by the Constitution of the United States of America via the Bill of Rights, whether our government or law enforcement honors them or not…

Here are the first 10 Amendments:

Amendment 1 – Freedom of religion, speech and the press

Amendment 2 – The right to bear arms

Amendment 3 – The housing of soldiers

Amendment 4 – Protection from unreasonable searches and seizures

Amendment 5 – Protection of rights to life, liberty and property

Amendment 6 – Rights of accused persons in criminal cases

Amendment 7 – Rights in civil cases

Amendment 8 – Excessive bail, fines and punishments forbidden

Amendment 9 – Other rights kept by the people

Amendment 10 – Undelegated powers kept by the states and the people

To read them all in their entirety and for a complete list of ALL of the amendments, click HERE.

For further learning in the area of our government, check out these links:

*United States Constitution

*The Declaration of Independence

What do you think of our “rights” as they have been laid out for us?  Do you think our government honors and upholds these rights?  Do you think that everyone is equally protected under these rights?

I’d love to hear your thoughts.

Thanks for dropping by!

Introducing…New Release by @NonnieJules #RRBC #RWISA

“…AND THE MUSIC PLAYED” 

poetry2a

Blurb:

This book is the sequel and also the final chapter in the love story between Giani and Christine. The first book, “IF ONLY THERE WAS MUSIC…The Poetry of Forbidden Love” (a co-authored poetic project), was a love story told thru the eyes of two lovers…but written for the hearts of many.

Across oceans and thru many barriers, two hearts try to connect – but with the distance between them, will their love survive? And, with the forces-that-be against them, coming in the form of murder plots and domestic abuse, the bigger question is…will they?

***

Available on Amazon now! $2.99

To my dearest reader:  If you should encounter any typo sduring your read of this book, I would so appreciate you letting me know at 4WillsPublishing@gmail.com.  Even with the keenest of vision, mistakes are always possible.  

UPDATE:  I took the original copy down to make a few formatting corrections on 4/8/18 @ 8:58 PM CT, so if you purchased a copy before this time, please wait 48 hours and re-download for a better read.  If I notice that the problem still exists, I will remove it and send it back for re-formatting.

Book Trailer:

 

Thanks for your support and enjoy this short story read!

***

NOTE:  I’m not sure why, but the Look Inside feature on Amazon shows distorted text.  I assure you that is not the case when you actually purchase the book.

Thanks!

All About The #RRBC Sponsors Blog Hop! – #RWISA – @FredsDiary1981

Welcome to the first ever ALL ABOUT THE SPONSORS BLOG HOP!  These kind members of the RAVE REVIEWS BOOK CLUB (RRBC) donated their support during the 2017 conference, in the way of gift card and Kindle e-book donations for our Gift Basket Raffle. They supported us and now we are showing our support of them by pushing their book(s).  
 
We ask that you pick up a copy of the title listed and after reading it, leave a review.  There are several books on tour today, so please visit the HOP’S main page to follow along.  
 
Also, for every comment that you leave along this tour, including on the HOP’S main page, your name will be entered into a drawing for an Amazon gift card to be awarded at the end of the tour!
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“FRED’S DIARY 1981” 

Fred's Diary by Robert Fear

Blurb:

Have you ever wanted to read someone else’s diary?

Would you like to experience travelling in Asia without leaving home?

Then this book is for you. Fred’s Diary 1981 is a fascinating insight into a young man’s travels around Asia in the early 1980’s. This is a unique opportunity to delve into Fred’s daily diary, which details the 158 days he spent travelling around Asia. Follow Fred throughout his extensive travels to Hong Kong, Thailand, India and Nepal.

Appreciate the many friendships formed along the way with fellow-travellers.

Relive the highs and lows that he experienced during this fascinating journey.

Recognise the huge differences in technology, particularly communications.

Become immersed in the different cultures, peoples and surroundings of Asia in the early 1980’s.

Understand more about the drug culture of the 1980’s, especially in Thailand and Nepal.

Learn from Fred’s youthful mistakes, especially if your dream of travelling to Asia becomes a reality.

AUTHOR, ROBERT FEAR

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This blog hop sponsored by:  4WillsPublishing

 

**Leave a comment below and your name will be entered into a drawing for an Amazon gift card!

Let’s Play Follow The Leader – @rijanjks #RRBC #RWISA

Thank you all for dropping by today.  I hope it was the title of this post that enticed you to do so.

Many of you may be aware that early last year I took my debut novel, “DAYDREAM’S DAUGHTER, NIGHTMARE’S FRIEND” down from Amazon.  (I’ve recently discovered that in my haste to do so, I only removed the e-book format and it is still there in paperback format, but hopefully, no one’s buying it).  I did this, because although it received many positive reviews, I just happened to open a paperback copy one day to find some very glaring “hiccups.”  I was so blown away (that they were glaring…at least to me) that I rushed to Amazon and yanked it down with such force, I think I hurt my arm. (I’m sorry, poor arm).

Anyway, with running the hugely busy and successful communities known as RRBC & RWISA, I have yet to re-edit and put the book back up for sell and I won’t, until it is at its absolute very best!  I’d like to apologize to those of you who still promote that book, even when you notice that I haven’t retweeted your tweet.  That’s only because I am strongly opposed to doing so when I know it’s not at its best in the current form.  But again, thank you so much  for supporting me. (Honestly, if you would stop pushing it at the moment, I’d greatly appreciate that).

On my mission to encourage others to take their writing reputations seriously by only allowing the best of their work to be sold to readers, I think Author, Jan Sikes might have just heard me screaming all over the place.  Not long ago, Jan realized that there were “hiccups” in one of her books, so what did she do?  You guessed it!  She took it down, sent it thru a re-edit and now it’s back up and ready to lay cradled in the crook of your arm, each night as you read yourself to sleep.

Jan notified me recently that the book was “ready” and it is also on sale now for only $.99, and because I am so proud of her for taking her book down to ensure that it was at its best before she sold another copy, I want to assist in the book’s promotion, especially while it’s at this great price point!

Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you, the NEWLY POLISHED & RE-EDITED

“FLOWERS AND STONE”

Flowers and Stone by Jan Sikes

Jan is a superb story-teller so I am asking you to please, please, please join me in helping her to push her re-released, newly edited book, “FLOWERS AND STONE!”

Jan is also a member of the very elite and exclusive RWISA: RAVE WRITERS – INTERNATIONAL SOCIETY OF AUTHORS and so I invite you to visit her profile page there.  You’ll quickly learn why you should check out her books.

My final request, if you want to go a step further in helping to promote Jan’s re-release: how about re-blogging this page onto your own site and definitely share it on your social media forums.  I know it would move her to tears to see all the support!

Friends, anytime you’d like me to help you promote you or your good reads here on my site, just drop me a line at NonnieJules@gmail.com.  Being able to be of service to others (to you), is my greatest mission in this beautiful life of mine.

Until next time…

 

That’s What Love Will Do… #Poetry #RRBC #RWISA

Happy Valentine’s Day, Lovers all over the world!

shutterstock_2588232

I was speaking with a friend of mine on Monday, who was sharing with me the plight of his situation with his sweet love.  He told me that they were constantly at odds with each other, and no matter how he tried, there was always something he’d do or say to upset her.  “All I want to do is love her” he said, voice trembling from the upset.

“I can’t eat, sleep or even think when we’re in this place…but that’s what love will do to you,” he trailed off.

I ended our conversation so that I could get back to my constant state of busy, but the words that’s what love will do…lingered in my head.  It took me 18 minutes to pen this poem in tribute to my friend.

***

“THAT’S WHAT LOVE WILL DO”

Can’t eat, can’t sleep
Can’t think, can’t breathe
Can’t run, can’t walk
Can’t feel, can’t dream
That’s what love will do.

No life, no fun
No laughter, no tears
No rain, no sun
Nothing but fear
That’s what love will do.

Pinch my skin, nothing I feel
Broken but standing, hope prayers will heal
Blind but reaching, the air is cold
Remembering her hands, memories unfold
That’s what love will do.

Trust…broken
This…the pay
My prayer is that
She’ll return someday

Crying, dying, because of you
You told me, warned me
That’s what love would do.

~ Nonnie Jules

What about you…has love ever pulled you out onto the floor when you weren’t in the mood to dance?  Has it ever taken you for a ride in a hot air balloon, and then suddenly pushed you out without a parachute?  Has it kept you awake at night, crying into your pillow, wondering if your heart was physically breaking?  There has to be something.  So, tell us…what has love done to you?

A Horrible Ending or a Beautiful Beginning…how do you see it? #RRBC #RWISA

Goodbye 2017

(I wrote this post in January but forgot to publish it.  Now, in May, you get to enjoy it).

Yesterday I spent a full two hours sitting in my husband’s recliner, watching television.  Now, although this may seem mundane to you, let me explain why it was amazing for me.

I never have time in my days to just sit and watch television anymore.  Although I’ve never been a huge ‘tuber,’ there are some shows that I just couldn’t live without…in my old life.

Lifetime Television was once my closest friend.  That’s not to say that I don’t have very dear friends, because I do, but, I would spend countless hours on the treadmill, watching back to back Lifetime movies.  There’s a rule in my home that I can’t watch television unless I’m exercising, and back then, I think I was exercising more, just to watch my shows.

Since the beginning of RAVE REVIEWS BOOK CLUB, I no longer have the opportunity to enjoy many of the luxuries I once did.  A complaint?  No, just a truth.  So, now I’m sure you can understand why my exuberance over the two hours I got to steal away yesterday, reclining and watching T.V., meant so much to me.

Yesterday, I didn’t watch Lifetime, though. And, although I couldn’t turn away, my time in front of the tube wasn’t enjoyable at all.  I spent two hours, subjecting myself to the most horrific stories ever told, on a show called “I SURVIVED…” This is a series about people who have suffered thru, and survived unimaginable events in their lives, that have left them permanently scarred on the outside, as well as emotionally destroyed on the inside…despite their claims of being “OK.”

Story after story, I cringed and I cried:

-A 19 year old freshman college student who decided to leave a party and walk back to her dorm alone, kidnapped as she waited outside a store for a friend to meet her.  This beautiful darling was pulled into a car at gunpoint, taken to a home, repeatedly raped, then chained by her wrists and strung up in the ceiling…and, if that wasn’t enough…she was tortured more than what I’ve mentioned;

-A 12 year old who was kidnapped from his home during the middle of the night by a 17 year old.  Taken not far away from home – one by one, every bone in his body was broken.  Both ankles twisted and turned to the back, knees broken, ribs broken…all because his abductor said he was fascinated by the sound of breaking bones;

-A depressed man who would beg his wife daily to just “put him out of his misery by shooting him in the head”; on a fishing trip with his friend, his brother and sister-n-law. When they hit a rough patch of water and the boat tipped over, he was forced to make a decision:  did he really want to die, or did he want to rage against the freezing waters and fight to stay alive?  He survived…his brother and sister-n-law didn’t;

-A 25 yr old woman offers a co-worker a ride home from work.  When she realizes that he has other intentions, none of them good, she pulls over and asks him to get out of her car.  He attacks her right in the middle of a nice suburban neighborhood, on a public street.  He rapes her there, then throws her back into the car, drives her to the woods, forces her to take off her clothes and assaults her repeatedly. As if that isn’t enough,  he forces her to perform oral sex on him, and then, grabbing a huge tree branch – he rapes her with that, too.  This monster then proceeds to beat her repeatedly in the head with branches and his fists – finishing up by repeatedly kicking her in the ribs with his steel-toe boots.  He leaves her there to die;

-Lastly, a man picks up two hitch-hikers with a dog.  His gut is telling him that it’s a bad idea, but he says later…he felt sorry for the dog.  His passengers violently attack him while he’s driving by beating him in the head with a hammer, pushing him out of the moving vehicle, then leaving him in the freezing snow to die as they drive away with his van. He sees them backing up and thinks that maybe they’ve had a change of heart and are returning for him.  The dog had accidentally jumped out of the van and they were coming back for it…not him. I found out just recently, that this man is currently the professor of one of my nieces.  Yes, he survived;

There is more, but I’m sure by now you get the picture and you want to turn away from my words.

When it comes to my adult daughters, the world knows that I am overly-protective…just as if they were still toddlers.  I’m no meek and mild damsel and by nature and my DNA, I am a fighter, but when thoughts of this level of cruelty pop into my head, potentially  involving my daughters, I get weak because their pain is my kryptonite.

The last year has held so many horrible memories…not just for me, but I’m sure you’ve had your share, as well.  Seeing these horrific acts being played out in front of my very eyes (albeit depictions on a TV screen) brought me to an even greater awareness of the ugly that lives in so many people.

The term “road rage” has given way to many behaving poorly on our roads and behind the wheels of cars.  The news is filled with stories of young people’s lives senselessly taken, simply because they made a wrong turn or maybe even crossed over in front of another car, because of a blind spot…they just didn’t see the other car.  Unfortunately, many have died because of these innocent mistakes.

Those of you who follow or know me, are very aware that I am a strong advocate for “right.” Whether I’m preaching against social injustice or taking a stance against the abuse of children or the disrespect of adults by children…I stand firmly planted in wanting and working towards change and growth for the betterment of all.

2017 along with other years past, have brought into clear focus for me that the devil is alive and well.  I don’t mean those little red devils that sit on your shoulder encouraging you to eat that entire chocolate cake, I’m referring to the ones that walk around in human form.  You may not believe that they’re devils, but I sure do.  Anyone who can harm or hurt another, cannot have a heart, or be human for that matter.  You have to be some kind of monster to engage in any of the acts that I witnessed on that show mentioned above.

This year, I’m praying that we will all grow and become (even just a little bit) better.  The way we treat others, the way we speak to others, or, if we’re dealing with others in dishonest ways…let’s work on that, too.  Of course the truth hurts, but lies and lures are deadly.

If you’re looking forward to 2018 being a lot better than 2017, we’re going to all have to work together…we’ll each have to do our part;  you work in your neck of the woods, and I’ll work in mine.  When all’s said and done, we’ll meet somewhere in the middle and compare notes.  I want what’s written on my pages to read very similarly to yours…and when combined, I want our shared story to reflect pure love, tales of gentle hearts and the birth of unfailing unity.

Tell me, what do you think of my new vision?  Is it at all possible?

Until next time…