Category: Spirituality/Inspiration

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Poetic Valentines…and a SOLC Plan

First, huge thanks and a hug. Second, I’m sharing my plan for March slicing.

I was sitting with my schnoodle Boo Radley in my favorite chair in the living room when the text notification came on Valentine’s Day. My friend, fellow Slice of Life blogger, travel advice guru, fellow Schnoodle Mom, and Stafford Challenge small group buddy Glenda Funk of Idaho sent a Valentine full of smiles and hugs to our writing group that meets the first of each month to catch up and write! One of the greatest blessings of a writing community is finding common interests among those with whom we share some of our deepest feelings and so much of our day-to-day lives. A huge thanks to Glenda today, to all the writers here at Slice of Life, and others in writing group crossroads for making life more friendly and for helping me find the smiles in unexpected places.

Valentine’s Day hugs

arrive from across the miles

arms wide as friendship!

A plan has been brewing. It’s been in my bones, and it has finally taken root. I find that if I have a plan for the Slice of Life Challenge, I’m more successful at completing the challenge ~ and not just finishing it, but actually enjoying it the same way some marathon runners are actually smiling when they cross the finish line.

My Plan

Living poets are near and dear to my heart. I want to not only read and celebrate them, but also have an opportunity to share their work. That will be my own personal March Slice of Life Challenge plan. Each day, I’ll feature a collection of poems by a living poet, and I’ll compose a short Cento poem each day from that collection. Cento poems are some of my favorites – they’re a form of found poetry where lines of existing poems are arranged to create new poems. I’m still curating my featured list, but I wanted to share this idea in case there is anyone reading who is struggling with an idea and needs a place to start. Perhaps there are seeds in this idea. Some of my favorite reading is about books and how they have changed lives – poetry collections included.

I’ll see you at the starting line on Sunday, ready for the journey!

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Falling in Love with a Simple Sweetness

Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day, and it’s the day of flowers, so I’m celebrating with flowers – three tiny white daisies in a windowsill vase, inspiring a small poem of three stanzas. A tricube poem is one that has three syllables on three lines in three stanzas. I have written one today to appreciate the small, simple things.

Valentine Tricube

small blush vase ~

windowsill

daisy joy

fresh flowers

greet the day

lovingly

simple blooms

standing still

keep things real

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Small Rituals

Georgia Heard’s Substack offers writing calendars that work for both children and adults. Here is her February Valentine Mini Writing Calendar, inspiring us to fall in love with the everyday. Day 6 asks us to fall in love with love with a small ritual that brings us comfort or joy such as morning coffee, walking the dog, or lighting a candle.

Do Tell

for me, it’s when

we come home

from anywhere

even if we’ve

only been gone

three minutes

to check the mail

here they come

all three boys

ears flapping

tails up

pawing our legs

Come, play!

they say

but it’s when

they turn

take off

and hit full

speed down

the hall

racing for

all they’re

worth to

wait for us

in our

chairs like

old friends

ready for

coffee and

conversation

on the couch

that really surges

my joy meter

tell us, what is

did you do with

your wild and

precious day?

they ask,

licking our faces

and we tell them

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Loving Light

My friend Margaret Simon shared Georgia Heard’s Substack with me, and I love reading about her travels and writing experiences – and her book recommendations. You can see her posts here.

I love that Georgia offers writing calendars that work for both children and adults. Here is her February Valentine Mini Writing Calendar, inspiring us to fall in love with the everyday. I’ll be starting this today and walking with Georgia through the week. Join me with a journal and a pen!

Day 3 asks us to notice light and how it lands, how it moves, and then to write about one moment of light that stayed with us.

Weekend Waffles

the hexagon window

in my reading room

throws a morning sunbeam

onto the wall

opposite my bed

its tiny square panes

within look like

buttery waffles

syrupy and warm

drizzled in sunshine

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Falling in Love With The Ordinary

My friend Margaret Simon who blogs at Reflections on the Teche shared Georgia Heard’s Substack with me, and I love reading about Georgia’s travels and writing experiences – and her book recommendations. A couple of months ago, she shared that she was reading The Salt Stones: Seasons of a Shepherd’s Life, and recommended it on her post. I picked it up and loved every page of it. I think what I enjoy most about her book recommendations is that they are journey-related and not necessarily bestsellers that everyone would naturally pick up and read. I like books that take me down back roads, and she does a splendid job of sharing sacred places, both inward and outward.

Georgia Heard offers writing calendars that work for both children and adults. Here is her February Valentine Mini Writing Calendar, inspiring us to fall in love with the everyday. I’ll be starting this today and walking with Georgia through the week. Join me with a journal and a pen!

Day 1 asks us to fall in love with love with something ordinary: the sky, a pencil, a crack in the sidewalk, and to write a few lines about what we noticed.

Sunday Brunch

chickadee chirped

from the wreath on the front door

I could see her

through the swirled glass

seeking shelter from the icy wind

diving in and out of the bucket of seed

I’d left on the porch

I scooped up two handfuls

scattered them on the sidewalk

she invited her friends

to Sunday brunch

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January 27: In the Middle of a Long, Cold Winter

This company also publishes “Write The Poem” which I will also share in an upcoming blog post

I was browsing through our local used bookstore on a lunch break last week when, on my way out the door, a book caught my eye. Its title, Write the Story, glimmered in gold lettering down the spine, as if to plead: Hey, over here! See my sparkle? Take me home with you!

Already reaching for the doorknob, I changed course and went back to check it out. I expected a how-to on the writing process. Instead, I discovered the hidden treasure of a delightful writing challenge. Each page bore a titled topic with ten pre-determined (seemingly random) words to be used in the writing of a story.

The pages appeared to be blank except for one on which someone had penciled a story to satisfy one singular challenge and apparently moved on with life, abandoning the book and donating it to the bookstore, where it now rested in my hands. Treasure, indeed!

Poems to be written. Winter seeds of poetry, all scattered between the covers of one book. Destined for me, cast off like a stray no one else wanted, knowing all the while that a cultivator of words and writing would be most likely to pick it up, fall in love with it, take it home, and feed it.

I bought it and realized that other members of my small-group Stafford Challenge writers must have a copy. When we commit to writing a poem a day for a year, we all need a little prompting from time to time when the well runs dry or life gets too busy to think deeply like a poet. Once back inside the car, I turned on the heat and warmed up. I ordered three more copies online from the parking lot to send to Glenda Funk, Barb Edler, and Denise Krebs upon their arrival. Then I took a few snapshots to send them in the mean time.

Today’s title: In the Middle of a Long, Cold Winter

Words: opera, redeem, razor, lungs, grace, futuristic, tread, vest, powder, milkshake

In the Middle of a Long, Cold Winter

like that one lingering note

concluding a futuristic opera
treading frozen spring water

winter cleanses our lungs

razor-sharp alveoli icicles fall
sun breaks out in a crescendo
of seasonal transition
melting the white powder
milkshake from the mountainside
grace of its forgiving kiss
beckoning crocus, groundhog-like peepers
stretching up through frozen ground
ready to crawl out of bed
emerge from quilted slumber
shed their corm-sewn bud vests and
sing a new song



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Wednesday Wondering About Apples, Razors, and Makeup

There’ve been heated debates lately on our small rural Georgia county’s discussion page. People are bashing others who went to support the monks in their march through Georgia for peace. Some said there were maybe 6 or 8 monks and a dog on this trek. I saw the places advertised about where they were going to be and when, but I was busy and did not go. I cannot agree with anyone who would bash a monk or anyone who supports anyone else who adheres to a belief system that is their own or different from their own; that’s our fundamental freedom – to choose our religion and to make our choices.

Now if monks were tearing down towns and setting fire in the streets, rioting and smashing windows and shooting people or blowing up buildings, then that might be a different story. But I have never known a monk to misbehave or cause harm to others. For me? I choose the Bible. I believe it is the only way to Heaven. I will still break bread at a table with others who believe differently from me and celebrate that we are human beings here on this earth for a very short time to experience life. That’s enough. It’s not my calling to spit on my brothers who believe differently – – Jesus didn’t do that. He said to love them.

I’ll go a step further: I’ll love their dog, too. And if I had been there, I would have cheered them on for their fortitude. Whether I believe what they believe in or not, I believe in those who protest peacefully and find ways of making statements that do not harm others. Our country was founded on religious freedom, and we are on a slippery slope when we take aim at the religious beliefs of others. Christianity itself has its own denominations, and we respectfully agree to disagree on scriptural interpretation by attending different churches. In my day, the Methodists and the Baptists would get together for an evening game of softball and shake hands at the end of the game. We didn’t throw down over whether Baptism should be sprinkling or dunking. It just didn’t happen.

And it shouldn’t today. I believe in my maker, knowing the freedom is mine. I’m grateful to live in a country that still gives us all the freedom to do that, and I hope I never forget to consider what could happen if that freedom changes. I reflect on my father’s words today: be confident enough in your God that you are not threatened by anyone else’s.

all these people

parsing the scripture

bashing monk watchers

yet they

eat forbidden fruit

wear makeup

shave legs

what gives?!?

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On Kate Baer’s Latest Book: How About Now?

How About Now?

Kate’s done it again ~
written her best poems yet

…..dessert poetry!

how about now kate baer

Reading and writing circles in my life that started as groups but quickly became those who are now friends and sisters enrich my life in ways that bring depth and meaning to ordinary days. At the end of this week, one group will celebrate the finale of the second year of The Stafford Challenge, led by Brian Rohr in memory of William Stafford and will kick off year three with a launch party the next day. I’ll be there for both, but at first I wasn’t quite sure.

I didn’t participate in a small writing group with this larger group during its first year, deliberately waiting to feel the climate. Once you’ve participated in a few groups, you realize that there are some unhealthy ones out there and that it’s always best to stand back and take a long, hard look at who’s at the party and how they’re behaving before deciding whether to go all in and put your heart out there.

By the middle of the first year, I could sense that the larger group had plenty to offer, but I was still hesitant to take part in a small group with such an eclectic mix of personalities. I prefer positive people still growing as writers, and I’d sensed that there were a few who perceived themselves as professional poets with red pens, ready to offer venomous feedback on everything that didn’t align with their thinking. The few times I ambled into the Facebook group and posted a poem, it reminded me of a small town social media group with spiked collars and leather jackets and on…something, maybe steroids or stronger, and that simply wasn’t for me. I’d written a poem about my daughter’s birthday, and one lady accused me of being a racist because I’d used the expression gypsy vagabond. I took the poem down, satisfied that I’d finally confirmed that the idyllic pond was trolled by poet-devouring piranha.

I realized it wasn’t just me when one of my writing friends from my favorite larger writing circle shared that she, too, had experienced a troubling exchange in that group. Fast forward, and it turned out that four of us whose groups spanned to other circles were looking for a small group to continue in The Stafford Challenge, and so we formed our own that meets on the first Monday night of each month. We share what we’re writing, what we’re reading, what we’ve written, and what we’ve read. We talk grandchildren and husbands and children and pets, and we talk life. We inspire each other to keep writing, and we nudge each other to try new forms and techniques. We encourage and empower. There are no red pens.

That’s how I learned of Kate Baer. My friend Glenda Funk, a retired teacher from Idaho who travels the world with her husband Ken and is an avid reader who is also owned by some extremely spoiled and entitled Schnoodles, shared Kate’s book of found poems I Hope This Finds You Well, and I joined the fan club instantly. I didn’t think Baer could put out a better book of poetry, but Glenda mentioned last week that she’d just finished the latest Kate Baer, How About Now, and I finished it in one sitting yesterday. By the end of the day, I might have ordered one of those blue shirts on her website shop – – 1-800-How-About-Now. And the print of that favorite poem, How About Now, that you can read here.

And of course I surfed around, looking for more to dig deeper into Kate’s life and inspiration. The best reading I found was this interview https://cupofjo.com/2025/12/11/kate-baer-house-tour-pennsylvania-poet/ where we learn just how common her life is, and we realize that this is the way of the truest poets – the gifts of seeing the wonder in the simple things and being able to share it in words to tug at the hearts of readers with such enormity.

Consider my heart tugged, and consider me grateful for all the readers and writers in my life who offer such joy. You are what I think Kate Baer refers to as The Cure. Which, by the way, is my own personal favorite poem from her latest book.

P.S. I wanted to share one Substack author’s link about Kate’s Found Poetry in I Hope This Finds You Well.

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Remarkably Bright Creatures: A Found Poem

Sometimes I like to open the book I’m currently reading to a random page and find a poem hidden there in the pages, peeking around the corners of other words, just waiting to be discovered. It reminds me of Augusten Burroughs’ Running With Scissors, where he and his friends did what they called a “Bible Dip” anytime they needed scriptural guidance. They’d open the Bible and drop their finger onto the page and read the verse to see what wise answers pertained to whatever the matter at hand.

Right now, I’m reading Remarkably Bright Creatures by Shelby Van Pelt, and I can’t stop turning the pages. It is humorous and heartwarming, and all at once I can go from one breath with tears welling and one to full laughter, the kind where you’re alone in a room in your favorite chair and you know if anyone is watching, they will think you’ve finally gone over the edge. It would pair well with Sy Montgomery’s Soul of an Octopus, and already I’m wondering whether I need a box of tissues like I did at the end of that one after I’d bonded with Octavia and found myself overcome with sorrow upon learning her fate. I can feel the faucet of tears coming on now just thinking about it, so I’m shifting gears and doing a Poetry Dip to find some words and phrases on two of Van Pelt’s pages (20-21) and weave them into a poem.

Words are funny like that. They will find you where you are and walk alongside you, knocking on your mind as you sit in thought, demanding attention. My own One Little Word for 2026 continues to salt and pepper moments as I think of all the ways I need to heed its urging and all the ways I can bring its nuances into my own writing. I’ve tried to show the onward movement in today’s poem, navigating the currents of the stages of grief.

Tentacles

tragedies ~

rawness,

despair

clustered,

soaked through

grief

~ cascaded,

etched,

blurred

into a sea

of sunshine

over the crest

Special thanks to Two Writing Teachers for giving writers space and voice

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January Shadorma

A shadorma poem is one with six lines, in this syllable sequence: 3/5/3/3/7/5. My One Little Word (OLW) of 2026 is Onward!

Onward!

what we bring

into this new year

depends on

what is worth

keeping ~ and having the strength

to let the rest go