Pass it On

There is an honor and privilege to have such a wonderful person on my poetry site "Metamorphosis".This can be the beginning of world peace if everyone reads this and passes this free ebook on.  Please go to the bottom of the website below and go to his ebook!

http://www.natureiq.com/blog/?p=49

Wendy Had No Wings

 

This is the story of a bird named Wendy that lost her wings!

 Summer was a fine time of the year for Wendy.  She could fly about all day; stopping here and there for a berry feast.  All that flying gets one pretty hungry!

Wendy loved everybody and everyone loved Wendy.  A kinder bird you would never meet!

She had many friends and was grateful to have such wonderful birds in her life.

When Wendy’s friends were sad and needed a good friend to cry to, Wendy was the one.  Never did she discipline them and tell them “you should have done it this way and not that way”!  Her cute little ears were only there to listen and her great big heart grew bigger and bigger each day. 
Wendy would wrap here wings around them and cry along.  She could not stand to see them sad.

 Summer was coming to an end and fall was approaching faster than Wendy wanted.

She did love the autumn breeze, the rainbow leaves and oh did she love the pumpkins that were waiting to be picked and eaten!
“What a wonderful day to go flying”, said Wendy.  “I think I will go this way for some new scenery”!   Wendy decided to go for a fly in the sky on a beautiful sunny day.
She decided to go higher getting a better view of the pumpkin field below.
“Wow”!  Look at all those pretty orange balls”   “I am coming down for a landing to eat a gourd or two” exclaimed Wendy.  Wendy was so excited to see all those orange beauties that she did not see the hawk ahead.  Before it was too late, the huge bird bit her wings off.
Swirling to the ground she got very dizzy.  “I am going to die” screamed Wendy, but as luck was there, a big hay stack cushioned the fall.

 Falling with such speed she was stuck deep inside the hay.  “If I wiggle and wiggle and wiggle, that will surely bring me to the top”, said Wendy.

Something felt very funny to her.  Looking at her back, there were no more wings; just two little holes.  “This is a long way back but I still have my feet”, said Wendy. And walk she did.  Walk and walked and walked.  Finally home was in site.

Wendy was not singing herself to sleep this night!

 Wendy was very worried.  “Not having wings how will I fly when winter arrives”!  cried Wendy.  “There will be no food too”!  “I am so scared”!  said Wendy.

Mrs. Sun and Mr. Moon were so pretty, the flowers, the field mice running back and forth hiding their food for winter.  All these things Wendy looked forward to, but on this night, it no longer made her smile!

Her home was no longer hers.  Not being able to fly, Wendy could not reach the tree tops now!    The ground with autumn’s crunchy leaves will be her new home! 

Her friends stopped by the next morning hearing the news.
Wendy was crying and was embarrassed to tell her friends she had no more wings, no more food and no more home!
But unlike Wendy, her friends would not hear of this and told her things she did not like.
No wings were wrapped around her only a heart that hurt!
 Weeping so loudly, her best friend Teetee heard her crying.   She flew so fast to see her friend, Teetee could hardly breath!  “Wendy why do you cry so hard”, exclaimed Teetee.  “Teetee, I have no wings, no home, and no food”!  “Don’t cry my little friend”  “I am here to help you”, said Teetee.
And the two best friends sat together and cried until they fell asleep in each other’s arms.
 

The next morning Wendy felt kind of funny.  Her back kept on itching her and her chest was warm.  “Teetee, what do I have on my back”, said Wendy.  Teetee could not speak!  Her eyes filled up with tears, but this time with tears of joy! 

“Wendy, you are not going to believe me but there are new wings growing where the old ones were”, said Teetee. “I feel so funny”, said Wendy.  All of a sudden Wendy’s little body grew and her brown feathers turned all white with the most magnificent wings.  They were wings of an angel. 
Wendy became an angel.  Her heart was so big for others even when they were cruel to her, she stilled forgave them and loved them so.
Teetee touched Wendy’s beautiful wings and Teetee grew wings of an angel too.
 Teetee was an angels with no wings and because her love was so pure, she was finally given here wings! 
They were the prettiest angels holding each other’s hands as they flew up, up, up, until heaven’s gates were in view.
Now Wendy had wings, a new home, and plenty to eat and Teetee by her side.

 Always be kind to one another even your enemies.  We should not be mean and unkind as others can be.  Have understanding, patience and love, for then we will be rewarded on Earth then in Heaven!

Love is the strongest magic that no one can break!!!

 

Copyright laura laveglia 2013

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Crow and the Girl

 

 The crow’s raucous voice heard numerous times

On this night there was an air of apprehension
A warning is told, but only if you are tuned to natures heed!

 It was the 1800’s living as prostitute was a dream or nightmare

Live was not a picnic
Girl of young years uneducated and pretty
What else do I know what to do but to screw very well!
Watching mama and papa all these years
Brought to my young mind this is the way of life!
So here I am, a Victorian woman of the eve

 Crossing this bridge became a way of life

Countless times brings into a world of countless dreams
It is five o’clock in morning
The old wives called it the dying of a crow
An explanation can’t be understood
Tiny hairs on arms are erect as familiar hard pole

 The heart pleads not to enter

I drip with most fragrant desire
Just why not one more time!
This has been heard too many times in my head

 A night of ecstasy

Shillings fill my pocket
I dream of the market with all its goodies
Crossing over going back home
Legs unsteady ,because door was left open too many times
There is a crow, but not just some crow
Can’t explain the feeling, I felt tonight
 Screeching something about a man called Jack
Could it be a vision of love tonight?
If only I would have listened more carefully!

 Suddenly the air becomes thicker then the fog

Feelings of vomit fill the mouth
 I am scared!
Approaching is a gentleman of a lovely air
Convincing myself that is all that is there
We cross each other’s path as he tilts top hat
Batting my eyes ; feel the moisture once again between legs

He stops and the tingle continues

There is something shiny glinting in the dark
A coin for thy?
Oh how smitten I deem
He put his arms around
Feeling his hardness, a smile becomes a part of me
Suddenly feeling faint; wetness, but not of the womanly type
Again, and again he stabs at me
A more sickening sound I have not heard!
It was a knife that shined!
Oh why couldn’t I see!

He cut out my heart and my last breath

 Why did I not listen to the crow that night?

He kept screaming “Jack will come to you tonight”!
Stupid me, stupid me!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

I am so proud to introduce a dear friend Bathsheba's newest novel!
It is an autobiography of a child's tender, developing years.  There are no proper words to describe what horror this little girl and her brother saw, felt, and endured.

Please go to her site posted below read her excerpt, and enter the website purchasing this book that is on hard copy and electronic.
You will not be disappointed as you read this book in one day!!!


Bathsheba Dailey is the single mother of three girls divorcing after fifteen years with their father. She was born in Baltimore Maryland and moved to West Virginia at a young age with her mother and step father. She was soon placed in the states name along with her brother due to abuse. She finally found who she considers her family with her last foster family and they are still her family. She married and stayed for many years before she finally had enough and decided to leave. She then went back to school at thirty three and graduated business school at thirty six. She has had four poetry book released but two have since been retired to be redone. She has just come out with her autobiography “Five Year Old Death” that tells more of where she has come from and who she really is. She loves to fish and do lawn work for fun and spends many hours even playing in her neighbors lawns just because her own looks like a golf course. She hopes with her book she can prove to people that new beginnings can be made if you always keep your faith.  

Five Year Old Death book link http://www.amazon.com/Five-Year-Death-Bathsheba-Dailey/dp/0615841325/ref=sr_1_6?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1372348001&sr=1-6&keywords=bathsheba+dailey




FACEBOOK PROFILE https://www.facebook.com/bathshebadailey
FACE BOOK PAGES https://www.facebook.com/AuthorBathshebaDailey https://www.facebook.com/FiveYearOldDeath
BLOG http://beth-frommyheart.blogspot.com/
Website http://www.bathshebadailey.com/

TWITTER https://twitter.com/Bathsheba15
GOOGLE + https://plus.google.com/u/0/101184968789960146323/posts

Today I had the privilege of a wonderful interview with Bathsheba Dailey at New Beginnings Advertising and Publishing.
Below is the site to my interview.  I promise you will enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed the interview!


http://www.bathshebadailey.com/2/post/2013/05/laura-grillo-laveglia.html

I Owe It All to Poetry

 

 

Poetry has not been written for some time

Same rituals were performed

Alias the task was not triumphant

 

For some it is a war of trapped poison

Gift of poetry releases thousands of spores carried by wind

I am one of them

Having lived life with Cleopatra, there has been much dirt to soil

 

Tired does not describe what each cell represents

Present life was bed of rusty nails

Then magically offering appeared

Now there is diamonds in one’s eyes

 

Sparkling box was given abruptly; a fine summer’s night

Yes, there was much confusion

Migraine headaches when the flood gates opened

But now I reflect back and understand the whys

Endowment of painting with words is quite unspoken

 

Might be last verse put to paper

Bloody ink may never show

Sadness erupts from soul

But a new and improved version stands before

I owe this all to poetry!

 

The holidays are approaching once again!  Give the gift of poetry to your loved one.
Follow my link below.

http://www.lulu.com/shop/laura-laveglia/metomorphosis/paperback/product-20237852.html

A Happy Holiday Season for all!

PUMPKIN PICK-IN

At fifty-four (54) years old, I still become excited like an anxiety victim.  Heart pounding, dry mouth, seeking out the most desirable orange, global beauty!  I am taking about a pumpkin!

My dad and I had a tradition when it came to this sport.  We spent the entire day picking and choosing the most rounded, perfect pumpkin nature produced that season.  As usual we would find that perfect specimen.  Then on the way home from the farm, there was an ice cream soda waiting for me and the neighborhood ice cream parlor.  That evening our tradition continued as dad took out his magical oil crayons drawing the perfect face on our gourd.  It was a special day I looked forward to as dad and I would do some awesome bonding as father and daughter.

The day did arrive I so dreaded.  It was time for my dad, Matty Boy, to go back home.  Not only will our pumpkin hunting be missed, but the world is minus one good human being!

Now our ritual is passed down to my daughter Denyce.  My daughter and I go gourd hunting with the same excitement I had with dad.  My father may not be on this Earth physically, but I drag his spiritual body to the patch

Last week brings such warm and fuzzy thoughts, as Denyce and I went on our quest, but this time we went to a farm where you actually cut the pumpkins from the vine.  Unlike a big field of orange hues as far as the eye can see.  You would have thought we died and went to Heaven as we went around this huge farm exploring before we actually cut our victim!  Our faces were hurting from smiling too much!

After a while and I mean a great deal of time has passed, Denyce and I were in the middle of this acre upon acre of pumpkins.  We were becoming exasperated, for our beauty queen winner could not be found!  Just then I decided to call upon the great pumpkin king, my dad!  “Matty Boy, find us a country fair winner with blue ribbons and all”!  Then I went one step beyond and asked the impossible.

“Dad, Denyce loves the color pink, can you find a pink pumpkin for us”?  As fast as I said this, my eyes suddenly became heat seeking missiles as they zoned in to a certain area.  The sun’s rays poured down from the heavens illuminating a pink pumpkin!  Trumpets from angels could be heard!

There it was all by itself.  It reminded me of a Cecil B. DeMilles movie.  When the clouds dispersed and the sun shinned in all its glory!!  Yeah, you heard me right, a pink beauty queen pumpkin!

You can bet that from now on we go to the patch, we will call on the king himself!

So Matty Boy, do your thing for next year ,and this is a big one.   Get your feathered wing ready and you’re down slippers too, for there might be a bit of walking for this one.  This job might call for some fairy dust too, because next time I want a purple pumpkin!!!  Are you up for the challenge my dear old father?

Keku's Poetry and Expressive Writing: Pumpkin Pick-in

Keku's Poetry and Expressive Writing: Pumpkin Pick-in: At 54 years old I still get excited seeking the most desirable orange,  global beauty. I am taking about pumpkin! My dad and I had a trad...

Keku's Poetry and Expressive Writing: My Mother is Me! By Laura LaVeglia

Keku's Poetry and Expressive Writing: My Mother is Me! By Laura LaVeglia: There was a time in younger life when I not only made fun of my mother, but really did not fully understand where she was coming from.  Mom...

Keku's Poetry and Expressive Writing: Lulu the ProstituteI am Lulu a prostitute who liv...

Keku's Poetry and Expressive Writing: Lulu the Prostitute
I am Lulu a prostitute who liv...: Lulu the Prostitute I am Lulu a prostitute who lived in the 1800’s Velvet and pearls were worn upon skin Flowing like rivers drapi...

The Unofficial Blog for Brit Writers and Writers Everywhere!: My Mother is Me? By Laura LaVeglia

My Mother is Me! By Laura LaVeglia

There was a time in younger life when I not only made fun of my mother, but really did not fully understand where she was coming from.  Mom would constantly mention how fast life speeds by.
A beautiful event or holiday would always end each sentence the same
"God Willing".  In moms world this meant if she lived for mention time or place.

I stand here today looking into my magic mirror and the image of mom appears!

 I am my mother at fifty-five years old it is my time to worry about the future!
Mom is getting on in age and it saddens me to see her not the same fast witch on a broom.  I swore at times that women had a machine or secret ring enabling her to go here and there with the speed of light.
Today emphysema took her magic locking it away for ever.

In a week and a half a jet will propel me to Florida with much need  for prosaic after my flight.  Seeing her bright face makes me forget my nerves, well just a bit.   It has been two years since last we saw each other.  I am excited to see her, but there is a side that is not.  To view your mother in a whole new way is not easy.  Promising myself to take sadness and put it into my pocket each and everyday I am with her

It is not easy seeing our parents age, for we all know the reason for the fear.  Death is eminent and much closer then it ever was.  Not that age is the only factor for the Grim Reaper to come a knockin, but it does not help!
I am going to enjoy every moment in my favorite place Florida and keep any negativity buried deep.
I could do that!!!  If a mother and daughter can finally say they are friends, this is a walk in the park.

Enjoy your life everyday and embrace the good moments!!!!  God willing!!!!

By Laura LaVeglia

Please go to my sister site http://britwriters.blogspot.co.uk/.
Many talented writers with interesting subject matters that will bring up some emotions.

May you all have a day,month, and life filled with joy and peace, for all else is trivial.

Laura LaVeglia (Keku)

There Is No Place Like Home

Outside window on verge of eve, is a chickadee waiting for warmth

With a powerful lift, painted closed window sees light of new day

Tied around her beak a beautiful presentation

Silk ribbon heavenly shade of blue, she grips with precision

She sits so delicately upon her chosen women

There is confusion spiraling about

Her hands shaking as chickadee presents the rice paper

Should she keep its contents wrapped and bound with a secret to be found?

Excitement keeps her curious

The delicate woman unwraps its light or dark

But before the paper uncurls, silk ribbon intrigues her senses!

Taking the ribbon across her face caressing its smooth feel

Realizing it must stop

Procrastination is her middle name!

Moments lately, ephemeral and few

So uncurl my girl and read its tale!

Chosen to go back home with your companion is what it said!

Confusion took hold as tilt of the head was placed

Now talking so calmly to this bird

Would never have done this act before

This is ludicrous!

My beautiful chickadee what does this mean?

You are going back home to the paradise you once knew

I am your angel to hold you tight

Fly with me as I take your anxiety away tying into a silk ribbon

This time color of your choice!

Watching the ribbon blow away in the wind

Gracefully following the moon

Taking a journey faintly proverbial

Suddenly luminous white radiance

This comforts woman, realizing blue silk ribbon and its message

There is no place like home!

Anyone who is very close to me, knows my take on reincarnation and how I believe we will all be living many life's and some more then others.  Brought back to Earth to relive our mistakes until we have perfected our human being.
There is a strong believe that I lived in the Victorian Era as a Prostitute and living in jolly old England.
I decided to write a poem about a beautiful young women who's life was taken all too soon!!!!
She was a lady of the evening who lived in the slums of England, but each night she would venture into the better part of town to meet her men.

I hope you enjoy my poem "Why Did't I NotListen to the Crow".

Why Did I Not Listen to the Crow

The crow’s raucous voice heard numerous times

On this night there was an air of apprehension

A warning is told, but only if you are tuned to natures heed!

It was the 1800’s living as a prostitute was a dream or nightmare

Live was not a picnic

Girl of young years uneducated and pretty

What else do I know what to do but to screw very well!

Watching mama and papa all these years

Brought to my young mind this is the way of life!

So here I am, a Victorian woman of the eve

Crossing this bridge became a way of life

Countless times brings into a world of countless dreams

It is five o’clock in morning

The old wives called it the dying of a crow

An explanation can’t be understood

Tiny hairs on arms are erect as familiar penis

The heart pleads not to enter

I drip with most fragrant desire

Just why not one more time!

This has been heard too many times in my head

A night of ecstasy

Shillings fill my pocket

I dream of the market with all its goodies

Crossing over going back home

Legs unsteady ,because door was left open too many times

There is a crow, but not just some crow

Can’t explain the feeling, I felt tonight

He kept screaming something about a man called Jack

Could it be a vision of love tonight?

If only I would have listened more carefully!

Suddenly the air becomes thicker then the fog

Feelings of vomit fill the mouth

I am scared!

Approaching is a gentleman of a lovely air

Convincing myself that is all that is there

We cross each other’s path as he tilts top hat

Batting my eyes ; feel the moisture once again between legs

He stops and the tingle continues

There is something shiny glinting in the dark

A coin for thy?

Oh how smitten I deem

He put his arms around

Feeling his hardness, a smile becomes a part of me

Suddenly feeling faint; wetness, but not of the womanly type

Again, and again he stabs at me

A more sickening sound I have not heard!

It was a knife that shined!

Oh why couldn’t I see!

He cut out my heart and my last breath

Why did I not listen to the crow that night?

He kept screaming “Jack will come to you tonight”!

Stupid me, stupid me!!!

There was a time in my younger life when I not only made fun of my mother, but  really did not fully understand where she was coming from.  Mom would constantly talk about how fast life speeds by.
A beautiful event or holiday as a family would always end each sentence the same
"God Willing".  In moms world this meant if she lived for the moment of excitement.

I stand here today and I am my mother at fifty-five years old it is my time to worry about the future!
Mom is getting on in age and it saddens me to see her not the same fast witch on a broom.  I swore at times that women had a machine or secret ring enabling her to go here and there with the speed of light.
Today emphysema took her magic locking it away for ever.

In a week and a half a jet will propel me to Florida needing prosaic after my flight.  Seeing her bright face makes me forget my nerves, well just a bit.   It has been two years since last we saw each other.  I am excited to see her, but there is a side that is not.  To view your mother in a whole new way is not easy.  Promising myself to take sadness and put it into my pocket each and everyday I am with mom.

It is not easy seeing our parents age, for we all know the reason for the fear.  Death is eminent and much closer then it ever was.  Not that age is the only factor for the Grim Reeper to come a knockin, but it does not help!
I am going to enjoy every moment in my favorite place Florida and keep any negativity buried deep.
I could do that!!!  If a mother and daughter can finally say they are friends, this is a walk in the park.

Enjoy your life everyday and embrace the good moments!!!!

Forth of July has been traditionally spent with my best friend and her family for the past twenty-five years.
As always, I was excited to see my friend and gorge on her barbeque feast.
This has been a part of my family for a quarter of a century.

There is a new member in her family.  My friend became a grandmother for the first time. 
By the way there is a number two on the way any day.  This minature gentelmen makes me laugh and puts an extra step in my stride.  Getting together these days I not only look forward to seeing friends and family, but my new little friend.  His name is Jack and already he is a ladies man.
At two years old, his opinion of my blouse made me so happy