A Poem: "Holy Macaroni"

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Holy Macaroni

*This is dedicated to my coworker. She has read it and says, “I’d put that on a t-shirt.”*

I just want to run away. I just want to quit.

This place saps my energy bit by bit by bit.

Here runs a near-constant current of distress.

It must be a lot like a bogeyman’s caress.

This place taints my spirit. It makes my soul wilt.

It makes me feel threadbare like an over-washed quilt.

I want to have a meltdown. I want to throw a fit.

Holy macaroni, I’m so sick of this sh*t.

The weekends speed by like the speed of light.

Weeks at this place are like a growing blight.

Stress fills my daytime and my nights with angry dreams

That burst with obscenities at megaphone screams.

A mere vacation is laughable; that won’t do,

Nor will a staycation or a new pair of shoes.

Get us out of here. Get us out quick

Before this crazy to us does stick!

A Poem: "Plotting"

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Plotting

It is far more fun to plot than to plan.

Perhaps it’ll lengthen my lifespan.

To plan is a chore, but a plot can thicken.

The pace of the plot will now quicken.

I plot out my days. I plot out my week.

Plotting months in advance is a winning streak.

The amount that I plot might drive others berserk.

For me, it’s one of my many quirks.

One plots with sticky notes, I’m armed with lists.

And no, I will not cease and desist.

I don’t just do laundry; I plot it out.

Plotting is a serious workout.

My adherence to lists doesn’t make me rigid or cold.

I’m a combination of compassionate and bold.

I’m mostly loving with a side of contrary,

And with a smile, I’ll mind-smite an adversary.

I plot out life with gusto and trips with verve.

Life without plotting, the thought, the nerve!

From simple to complex, I plot with a passion.

And yes, I do plot out my workweek fashion.

Imagine if I took my passion for plotting

And applied it to extensive notes jotting.

There I am plotting world domination.

I am desperately in need of a vacation!

A Poem: "Books Galore"

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Books Galore

Books, dear books, sweet books galore.

Mountains of books full of lore.

Books aplenty and books abound.

A great, big, giant book surround.

Books aren’t a hobby, books are life,

But read the wrong one, and I’ll feel strife.

Books aren’t just books; they sustain

And a healthy mental health maintain.

Is it strange to wax on about books

Or to dream of the perfect book nook?

Because this is part of my daily routine,

And, random, but I’d like to try poutine.

I prefer books in a physical form.

Choosing an e-book is not my norm.

There’s something about that new book smell

That’s as strong as any magic spell.

Books from the library can’t be ruled out.

No new book smell, but no need to pout.

Libraries are community friends

That fuel imagination dividends.

I want to live in a Library of Lisa,

But funding that’s beyond the scope of a Visa.

I’ll keep reading two, three, five books at a time

And keep popping in with bouts of rhyme!

"After the Shadows" by Amanda Cabot

After the Shadows (Mar. 21, 2023) by Amanda Cabot.*

*This is the first novel in a series.*

When her abusive husband is killed in a bar fight, Emily [Vaughn] Leland sheds no tears. Free to return to her family’s home in Sweetwater Crossing, her homecoming is far from comforting. Her mother’s recently passed away after an illness and now her father’s died by apparent suicide, meaning he can’t be buried by her mother. Her youngest sister, Louisa, resents Emily, and she eventually leaves town. Her other sister, Joanna, is in Europe growing her musical talent. The house where Craig Ferguson, the new schoolteacher, and his two-year-old son, Noah, were set to board with Mrs. Carmichael burns, and Emily opens their home as a boardinghouse (this was the straw that set Louisa to leaving), despite Emily’s fear of men. The Vaughn name is tainted in controversy, but Emily knows her father didn’t kill himself. Craig proves himself to be a man to trust. Not only is he a devoted father, he’s a resourceful teacher and the ally Emily didn’t know she needed. Craig brings “radical” ideas (for the 1880s) to his classroom, from how he handles classroom discipline to welcoming 12-year-old Beulah Douglas with Emily’s support and despite the townsfolk’s protests, whom Emily defends as the child of God that she is. Meanwhile, death continues to come for the residents of Sweetwater Crossing, many of them around 70 years old. As Emily and Craig look to uncover the truth, they find murky depths under the town’s seemingly calm surface.

            The first in the Secrets of Sweetwater Crossing series takes readers back to 1880s Texas Hill Country. Cabot’s narrative is engaging, and her realistic portrayal of characters of the time inflamed me all the more. Not kindhearted Emily, nor compassionate Craig, but the close-minded townspeople, especially outspoken, thinks-he’s-always-right Mayor Alcott, and the uppity Mrs. Dietrich and her vile daughter Lizzie. My parents taught me to be a compassionate person from a young age, and I expect they would have even if we’d been alive in the 1880s. I am curious if Emily will share her story with Louisa in the next installment, as I’d like to see the sisters return to their close-knit bond. Humans have value in this story, no matter how fast they learn or how valuable one thinks one isn’t. Cabot’s new series opener shows courage, grit and determination, more than enough love to go around, and the path that can lie ahead after chasing away the shadows.

* Disclosure of Material Connection: I received this book free from Revell Books. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions are expressly my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255: “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.”

"Each Night was Illuminated" by Jodi Lynn Anderson

 

Each Night was Illuminated (Sept. 20, 2022) by Jodi Lynn Anderson.

*This is a standalone novel.*

Once upon a time, Cassie Blake believed she’d grow up to become a nun. Then the train plummeted into the river, killing six (all members of the Rose Hotel-owning Van Doren family), as Cassie witnessed with Elias Jones when she was 11. Fast forward to going-on-18-year-old Cassie, who’s riddled with insomnia and has become a nonbeliever in her [fictional] hometown of Green Valley, New Jersey, an exurb of NYC. Elias returns to Australia, but he sends her letters. Cassie never responds. Then Elias returns. He’s passionate about ghost-hunting and comes armed with equipment. They sneak out at night, and Cassie indulges Elias, knowing they won’t find any wandering spirits. Elias is actionable in his passion for ghosts, with his imagination, his rebelliousness and his harmless pranks. He’s bigger than the box Cassie fits herself in, even down to internalizing her anger. “You’d be good at being angry,” Elias tells her. “You’d get it right.” While Sister Suzanne is her “badass” favorite nun, Father James is an antagonistic, divisive priest. Futures are upended, and disaster is imminent, though Cassie doesn’t yet know it. Cassie sees the hopelessness in most and is awed by Elias’ belief in magical things. But if he stops believing, what hope is there for her?

            The setting is a world that feels broken; it’s a “... people are bats**t everywhere but there’s a special brand of American crazy” kind-of-world, and I expect that will resonate with too many in our nation. This isn’t a hopeful story until the end, but Cassie’s struggle and introspective resilience, her skepticism and floundering faith make this YA novel more believable. Most characters read as white; Elias has a Bangladeshi grandmother, which makes that inclusion feel like a placeholder for diversity instead of actual diversity. The pace moved slowly for me on occasion, but that didn’t take away from the weight of the story. It’s one of global and personal crises, small-town racism and close-mindedness. There are saints and secrets, rage and love and possibly, maybe, seemingly hidden, there’s hope.

Poems: Presenting Haiku Poetry

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A poetry post.

National Poetry Month.

A post of haikus.

It’s a day for fools,

And it’s a day for pranksters.

Happy April 1st!

A decadent cake.

Dusted in powdered sugar.

Edible flowers.

Springtime has arrived.

Waiting for green grass and warmth.

See the flowers bloom.

Imagination.

Dream a nightmare fantastic.

Big feelings, strong words.

Books. My happy place.

T-B-R shelf never shrinks.

A mountain of books.

Travel. More happy.

From Walt Disney World Resort

To everywhere else.

Life. Do live it up.

Aim to be a source of light.

Lots of love, Lisa.

National Poetry Month 2023

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National Poetry Month 2023

It’s a world of ruin in a world of dark.

It’s a world filled with shivers of sharks.

It’s a world of nightmares to make you weep.

It’s a world black as pitch where creepy things creep.

Time is out to get you and bring you down.

You bear the weight of the world like a dressing gown.

There’s no net to catch you, no one to keep you safe.

Life is out to scare you, make daily life chafe.

Darkness isn’t permanent, though it can overwhelm.

It’s there to be found, the light at the helm.

There is compassion, too, the brightness of hope,

An exclamation of love, where negativity will mope.

Everything is not lost, even if everything is not found.

I hope you are on a path where joy abounds.

Everything bright and joyous. Everything deep and true.

This is what I wish, what I’m sending to you.