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To live and let live.

Learning to Fly art journal 2 page spread – mixed media It is back. This need to check the data every day. To scan news headlines for what’s happening now in a world that seems hellbent on conflict and destruction. It was gone for awhile, this need. I wanted it to stay away. Yet here it is again. Unbidden. Uninvited. Unwanted. So I shift my approach to dealing with its presence. Instead of…

The Stuffie and the Read Beau – an SWB post

Dear Beau, I know we’ve never met and you think I’m just some fluffed up shaggy dawg toy but seriously, I am in awe of you and I so want to be friends. It’s not like you’ll have to share your food or even your toys, but we could play together. I’d let you pull on my fur and if you wanted, you could take out my squeaky and give it a few tweaks. ……. Beau is at it again. He hopes you come and…

The Stuffie and the Real Dawg

Dear Beau, I know we’ve never met and you think I’m just some fluffed up shaggy dawg toy but seriously, I am in awe of you and I so want to be friends. It’s not like you’ll have to share your food or even your toys, but we could play together. I’d let you pull on my fur and if you wanted, you could take out my squeaky and give it a few tweaks. Seriously bro, Louise talked about you constantly…

What if Life is a Run-On Sentence?

Learning to Fly Art Journal page – Creativity is the art of letting courage draw you out of fear. What if life is a run-on sentence? What if to mark the moments you must insert commas and periods and exclamation marks and question marks that give you pause to breathe, to gather your thoughts, to treasure the moment and dance and run about and fall into life’s drift like a river flowing into the…

I wrote this poem as part of National Poetry Month as well as in response to this week’s prompt at Eugi’s Causerie to “Go where the prompt leads you and publish a post on your own blog that responds to the prompt. It can be any variation of the prompt and/or image. Please keep it family friendly. Prompts close 7 days from the close of my post.” To inspire you, I’ve included the prompt “Dance”…

So Blessed and Grateful

She reaches out, takes hold of my finger and pulls me towards her face. As our noses touch she leans in and kisses me on the lips. I feel my heart melt. He calls me from his bedroom, “Come see this YiaYa!” And I go to his room and he shows me his excavator. Or perhaps his Dump Truck or maybe his Bulldozer. “Can you name my Bulldozer?” he asks and we go through a list of possible names until…

Ain’t No FauxBeau’s Allowed!

Well, how d’ya like these dawg-ples folks? She thinks just because she’s taken off to see those Littles it’s okay to A) not post my wisdom words until the afternoon (I even had to call her and tell her to get it done!) and B) To usurp my place of honour with this stuffed abomination called FauxBeau!!!! I mean really. Whatever is this dawggone world coming to that she thinks a stuffie is an…

Good for Nothing

Photo by Matt Collamer on Unsplash Several years ago, I volunteered teaching personal development classes at an adult emergency homeless shelter where I worked. One of the processes I used was to invite attendees to think about someone in the world they admired, and then to name the things about that person they most admired. The person could be a famous ‘real-life’ or fictional figure, past or…

Beau’s A Poet… Don’t You Know It?

There once was a dawg named Beau whose hair did grow and grow until one day his mom had her way and Beau got shaved, like a recruit on his first day and suddenly the wind don’t blow through his fur, and the girls don't coo like they used to do. Now this shaggy dawg is no more his hair has gone the way of the Dodo but don’t you laugh, no don’t you dare ‘cause hair or no hair Beau’s got it all…

The Trees Are Not Silent

The Trees Are Not Silent by Louise Gallagher The trees are not silent. They whisper the stories of the wind as it passes through their branches holding on to the tall tales and chronicles of life passing by as time writes its memories into its bark. The trees are not silent. They shelter birds and their nests hidden from preying eyes that would steal away new life reaching for food…

Awoke – a poem for hope

Awoke by Louise Gallagher Unseen stealthy like a stream invisible to the world above the earth weakened by its waters flowing underground permeating my thoughts with dark forebodings of what might be if this tiny invisible to the naked eye microbe found its way under my skin. This fear invisible and stealthy has stalked my thoughts for a year now clouding my senses eating lustfully at…

The Story of Your Dreams

"You carried the story of your dreams with you when you came into this world. They were written on your heart in the world beyond this place where miracles are birthed in the magic that is real and the mystical that is always present. You carried your dreams with you into life and all that matters now is you become the story of your dreams unfolding." I wrote the quote above in freefall writing…

On Monday, the wind blew fierce through the trees where Beaumont the Sheepadoodle and I walk. It was scary. As we walked, my body bent forward into the wind, I wondered… on days like today, does the wind blow so fierce because the trees want to dance with wild abandon? Do they plead with the wind as it blows through their branches telling the stories it has gathered on its travels around the…

“A dream is a wish calling for its wings.” — Learning to Fly mixed media hand-crafted art journal On Saturday, I took a four hour workshop with Dr. Minette Riordan, “The Sacred Garden: Spring Cleaning for Your Creative Spirit.” My Sacred Garden Vision Map The workshop was enriching, inspiring and very grounding. In our four hours spent writing and creating a circular ‘vision map’ of the Sacred…

It will all be ok. (An SWB post)

Beaumont: Louise, I am really not happy with you. Me: Oh. Why’s that Beau? Beau: Do I really need to tell you? Me: If you want me to know what you’re thinking. Yes. Beau: Seriously Louise. You expect me (and my fans) to believe you don’t know what I’m thinking when you write these posts every Sunday. Me: Yes Beau. I do. Beau: Fine. Then I’ll tell you. Me: Oh good. The suspense is killing…