Friday, April 29, 2011


I thought I would re-post my first two writes in hopes 
of introducing myself to this writing group….


With this blog, my intentions are to step outside of my comfort zone of living to please others, in the hopes of finding like-minded friends and writers who seek to share ideas, ponder choices, and explore inspirations. I appreciate all comments on my blog (positive or negative) as a means of encouraging an ever-evolving dialogue.

In the past, I would allow myself to become paralyzed by what others thought of me. I would literally shut down and suppress the life of my choosing, therefore, living the life that people expected of me. I realize now, making choices that others did not like or understand, will not result in my destruction nor will my world crumble and fall. Free will and free choice are gifts we have been given that allow soul growth, so that we do not remain stuck in the quagmires of the past.

As I revealed in my previous poem, "Old Friend", (see below) I would spread a blanket under the favourite tree of my childhood and write with total abandonment. I experienced the contentment of expressing my true, uninhibited feelings with no concern of being corrected or judged. This total freedom of choice always centered and calmed me, allowing me to process my emotions as well as my own truth.

Every day spirit speaks...inspiration arrives presenting us with even more choices. Our bliss echoes through our choices as well as our feelings. We must remember the value in dreaming our own dreams, as we follow our heart's true calling.

It is not up to us to control others' thoughts or assumptions, as we try to understand them. They too, have the freedom to make their own judgments and choices. We can choose how we react to others' choices and interpretations through our attitudes and questions. May we grow in love, in forgiveness, and in wisdom, as we ask for the strength to make the right choices...ones that benefit the whole while bringing the healing we seek.

Old Friend

With my back up against the trunk of an old tree,
I would write.
In the summer, I’d seek out the large shade tree in our back yard.
With a cozy blanket to soften the ground beneath me,
I allowed its spendor to embrace me.
While under its protective canopy,
I would always feel safe.
Having always loved words,
putting pen to paper was and still is my bliss.

Gazing up through the majestic maple,
I found escape easy and with little effort
I would write down my most
private thoughts and imaginings.

In quiet solitude,
I gave attention to my life, to my memories,
to the subtle details as they were presented.
I would find my authentic self when enveloped by nature
and especially when all was in quiet stillness.

Thoughts of the tree evoke many tangible memories.
Rich deep colours fall in slow motion,
offering their beauty as a gift unique for me alone.
By late afternoon the sun enveloped the space,
basking a warm golden glow.
It was then that inspiration would strike,
again guiding my pen to discover paper.

One Shot Wednesday

Over at Friday Poetically today,

we are having a bit of a Friday social, meeting new people, making new friends.

Monday, April 25, 2011

Heaven Scent

Heaven Scent
In the twilight of the moonlight
In the sea of tranquility
Nestled there amongst the clouds
Celestial sea of ethereal clouds
Light of sky the bay of rainbows
Sky of delicate blue divine
Sky so full of gossamer wings
Veiled beneath an ocean of stars
Soared the Angels heaven scent
Soared their flight in Sea of nectar
- Helena White

Sunday, April 24, 2011

In The End

Thunderstorm last night
My stomach is in knots
Mom’s absence is deafening
I feel paralyzed, unable to take in this change
So many thoughts and memories from the past

 I cannot stop crying
I am grieving already!

The palliative care nurses helped Mom to the commode
Was she fighting to stay stronger for me?
 She can now give in to her weakness
I want her to feel safe in her new surroundings
This is so hard!
I was able to protect, in our home
Now, here she feels so far away…

I feel quilt…sadness…anger, and yes sometimes even relief
Watching my Mom fail physically and deteriorate is heart wrenching.
Her life is ending
The reality of her death is now right in front of me, so clearly

I cannot stop crying
I cannot stop crying…

This poem is submitted to One Shot Sunday, hosted by One Stop Poetry. To see other poems based on the prompt, please visit the site.

Photograph by Greg Laychak for One Stop Poetry, Used with permission. You can find Greg Laychak’s web site here and you can follow him on Twitter.

♥♥༺❀༻ ღ ӇƛƤƤƳ ƐƛŞƮƐƦ ღ ༺❀༻♥♥



Saturday, April 23, 2011

Teardrop Magic

If a teardrop were magic
I’d dance in green beans
I’d whisper sweet love
To you in your dreams

If a teardrop were magic
The blue moon we’d eat
I’d make yellow balloons
A delicious treat

The challenge is to write a poem, using a list of words given by One Stop Poetry in the spirit of Shel Silverstein creativity prompt. 

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

♥* Mother Earth ♥* In Honour of Earth Day ♥*

“Ɲot until we connect to the Earth,
Will we ever consider It worth saving”

“The Earth can be our Heaven
If we just surrender to her charm”

♥ )

Monday, April 18, 2011

15 words or less about STRESS


While stressed
I used every ounce of strength 
to keep up the facade of

Over at Dodgewrites, JL says that love and hate are easy... lets try STRESS

Daring Darkness

When you dare to go this deep into the darkness, then, with time, you are able to go into the higher realms of understanding the light....for one does not exist without the other.

I am certainly not in this dark place now, 
but through my grief I have been there.

The famous psychologist, Carl Jung, wrote: 
When the darkness grows denser, 
I would penetrate to its very core ground,
& would not rest till amidst the pain a light appeared...

Daring Darkness

You are a ruthless adversary, you are cunning, intelligent, astute, devious, patient and unsuspecting, a faceless enemy who waits in the shadows for any opportunity to pounce.

My warrior self tries to fight, yet soon realizes how fruitless the strife, surrendering to the pit of dark despair. Before long I realize, I am your captive.

With moroseness upon me, I am fully aware that I am imprisoned, all the while desperately believing that I need to justify my every decision. I hear sincere logic, yet it seems to pass me by. No amount of reasoning or encouragement will avail and….

I soon turn within…

I soon crave solitude…

The bars that detain, echo an amusing irony, for they represent a welcome respite…for I unknowingly have created a tomb-like cavern, meant to keep out the very ones who could help. I prefer being hollow, void of thoughts.

I continue to protect and defend the faceless destroyer, trusting no one else, accepting the mocking disdain. I concede, by pulling the dark veil overhead to seal my fate. I succumb to the scornful taunts of the faceless, shutting out everything and everyone else.

I bolt the bars to the cavern, only to sit and gaze toward the light
- watching and weeping angry tears.

I cry helplessness…

I sob loneliness…


I dissolve into an invisible dream,

Where sleep never comes and silence deafens joy

I offer a big to thank James Rainsford for us allowing the use 
of  his wonderful photograph. to see more of 
his stunning photography, prose and poetry please visit his sites
  The Sanctum of  Sanity  and  James Rainsford

This is my contribution for  One Stop Poetry  

Tuesday, April 12, 2011


Human spirits are uniting across our world
through a conscious connection, seeking illumination.

Much the same way a pendulum
swings freely, we move from the
Eternal Horizon, out across the ocean of life,
only to return to where our soul once began
this remarkable journey.

Within this infinite Universe we are all
striving for the same things.
To live, love and be accepted
for ourselves and our individuality,
to be recognized and respected,
all while slowly awakening.

When we are sincere in our convictions to
live at higher consciousness;
we will find an Angel within our reach
to lift us beyond our human
limitations to bridge the Celestial Sphere.

Sunset from our back deck

Monday, April 11, 2011

The Celebration ~ Poetry form shadorma

mist mantled the sky
crowds rejoice
with tranquil delight, while the
Angels' paean begins

ೋღ  ღೋ

~Paean Pe'on, A song of joyful praise or exultation~
Join us today at One Stop Poetry for an exercise in poetry form – the Shadorma
hosted by Leslie Moon  & Anne Welch 
(The shadorma is a syllabic poem with the following structure: 3/5/3/3/7/5)

Sunday, April 10, 2011


Up above the stale air
Defying gravity
Staring with childlike curiosity
Watchful of the scene below
Nonchalant detachment

A thought!
“Why all the fuss”

Feather soft sky
Above and beyond
Floating aloft
The commotion below
Euphoric perfection…


…With a heavy heart, she returns…

♥ )

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

Please Come For Tea


In moments of alone time or in the company of friends,
the genuine pleasure of tea drinking is a timeless social
gesture that never loses its charm.

Enjoying a cup of tea has always been 
a special ritual for me.  
My Mother taught me the knack of tea-time.  
From early on, I have fond memories of sharing 
a cup of tea with my Mother.  
I consider my Mother's famous crumb cake to be 
the perfect accompaniment to this day.  
The tradition of having a tea party 
has been passed down to my children, and I now enjoy 
sipping tea together with my grandchildren.  
More than simply a beverage, 
tea allows one to pause, while it feeds the soul 
through quiet reflection.

I always love to peruse different towns and villages, 
seeking out a congenial respite for lunch. 
Visiting these small towns almost always 
entails my discovering the neighbourhood Tea Room. 
I have often fantasized about running my own 
Tea Room. While in these sanctuaries, 
I continuously decorate in my mind's eye, 
improving on their décor choices. 
It would have an adjoining gift shop that would 
sell everything related to the 
Art Of Making Tea. 
I even have a name at the ready…
"The Lavender Lace Tea Room".

Ahh, I can picture it so clearly…..
Stεp iɳ the door and bε mεt bყ 
thε fragraɳt aroma of  tεa...the scεnt of sconεs 
warm from the ovεɳ...thε dεlightfuɭ compaɳყ
  of  friεɳds, both oɭd and ɳεw. Sip and savour the momεnt! 
"Ƭhε Lavεndεr Lacε Ƭεa Ʀღღm", a ʄɾiεɳɗɭყ, 
ɭσʋiɳɠ and ρεαƈҽʄuɭ ρɭαƈε tσ ʋiʂiȶ and eɳjoყ  your 
favourite cup of Ƭεa.

The ceremony of tea drinking has managed to remain 
a constant in my life - a comfort, a haven, a warm treat 
that outshines any afternoon refreshment and recharges 
my spirit. There is something calming found in a warm 
cup of tea...a time to reflect, relax, and 
treasure our friendships.

The art of tea allows us to celebrate. 
It is a time-honored ritual, a unique recipe 
for musing that secretly feeds the soul, 
especially when savouring that first sip.  
Ahh, the sweet aroma of crumb cake…
thank you Mom.

___________ ♥ღϠ₡ღ♥_____________
~~~~~~~VICTORIAN TEA~~~~~~~
~~~~~~NOW BEING SERVED~~~~~~
___________ ♥ღϠ₡ღ♥_____________
Finger Sandwiches*Fresh Scones*Jams*
*Whipped Cream*Butter tarts*Mini Muffins*
*Blueberry Truffles*Chocolate Surprise*
___________ ♥ღϠ₡ღ♥_____________
House Specialty~ Lavender Lace Tea

For my Mother Mary
April 06 1917 - October 27, 2000

༺❀༻ ©  Hεlεɳa ༺❀༻

Crumb Cake ~ 

From My Mothers Kitchen

Since receiving several requests for
The Crumb Cake recipe mentioned in my post 
"Please Come For Tea", 
I thought what better way to share it 
than on my blog....Enjoy...

Crumb Cake

Preheat oven to 375 F
Grease a 9-inch square cake pan.

In small bowl of electric mixer, cream
¾ cup of butter {my Mother used lard}
Blend together {rub}
1 cup of white sugar
Add 2 cups of all-purpose flour
and blend until resembles cornmeal…crumbs.
Reserve 1 cup of this mixture and set aside

Sift together and add
¼ tsp salt
1 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp ground cloves
1 tsp nutmeg
½-tsp baking soda
2 tsp baking powder

Then mix in
2 eggs
1 cup of buttermilk or sour milk

Fold in
1 cup of raisons
1 cup of currants

Pour batter into prepared pan.
Sprinkle with reserved crumb mixture.
Bake in preheated 375 oven for 40 - 50 minutes
or until toothpick comes out clean.
Cool 5 minutes then remove from pan.

From my Mothers own pen
 Memory Box Creations likes Monday Memories

Saturday, April 2, 2011

A Bitter Break-up

JL from over at Dodges Writes has asked that we write on a 
bitter break-up...  the only catch is that you have to do it in 
15 words or less...

Six Word Saturday

"Intuition...our conduit to the sacred"

 Over at Show My Face hosts Six Word Saturday. Want to play along? All that's necessary to participate is to describe your life (or something) in a phrase using just six words
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