I can’t explain why it’s my favorite word. It’s something to do with how romantic it sounds and all the connotations it holds, both good and bad. It’s animalistic and peaceful. It’s simple and loaded with meaning. It’s perfect. Say it and listen to it’s beauty: unfurl. What’s your favorite word?
Today was certainly a Monday. Unfurl a little tonight.
–Leanne Rebecca
I’ve eaten nothing but cookies for the past five days. That’s what happens when you make them on Christmas Eve and double the recipe because your mom told you to and end up with a full box of leftovers because you made too many cookies. I think I’ll go for a run today.
I wanted to post this poem yesterday. I’d set my intention the night before: I will write a poem on Saturday morning. But somehow I slept in and before I knew it I was out of the house, starting my day, and I’d forgotten about poetry completely. It’s a rare occurrence–me forgetting about poetry–but I’d like to think there’s some meaning behind it.
Happy Sunday!
–Leanne Rebecca
Today didn’t feel like Thursday, whatever that means. Enjoy your nights my friends.
–Leanne Rebecca
I’m currently obsessed with “Out of the Woods”on Taylor Swift’s new album and that is the most important news I have to share. Sing with me.
Have a splendid Wednesday, friends.
–Leanne Rebecca
About the Author:
Philip Dodd was born in 1952, lives in Liverpool, England, has a degree in English literature from Newcastle University, and has been writing songs, stories and poems since he was twelve. He has had poems published in his local newspapers and in The Dawntreader, a quarterly poetry magazine, published by Indigo Dreams Publishing. His book, Angel War, was published in April, 2013, and is available as a paperback and as an E-book. Reviews of it can be read on Amazon and Goodreads.
Find more from Philip Dodd on his blog.
Who knows what makes two people compatible. What is it about someone that ignites the spark and electrifies our desires? It’s breathtaking when that happens, but equally as profound is the absence of that spark, when just getting through dinner feels like crawling on hands and knees through the mud.
Have a wonderful Saturday my friends!
–Leanne Rebecca
This poem came out of nowhere. I was taking a walk, imagining stories in my head, and it just hit me in the face.
One of my friends lent me Ararat by Louise Gluck last week and I think it changed my life. Everything looks the same from the outside–same job, same breakfast foods–but something’s different, even if I can’t articulate exactly what that means.
I don’t usually publish poems at night. Sweet dreams and thanks for reading.
–Leanne Rebecca
About the Author:
A a young Ghanaian student-poet, Nana Arhin Tsiwah know in poetry circles as “The Village Thinker” uses livid words to tell tales of old, of history and tradition.
More from The Village Thinker…
My biggest challenge in my writing is clutter. I use too many words and too many fillers, or at least I used to. I’ve worked on refining my verse quite a bit, but it’s exhausting! Hell, sometimes I want to overuse adverbs and let my rant run free, no matter how inarticulate the finished product.
Lately I’ve been writing in stream of consciousness form. I don’t judge. I don’t edit. I don’t stop. I just write. This piece was the first. I didn’t change a word.
Happy Saturday!
–Leanne Rebecca
Today is the day that Facebook feeds are cluttered with lists. We pick out five or six things we’re thankful for like family, friends, food, faith, etc. I’m not going to do that here. While I am thankful for my parents and my cat and my guitar and my favorite restaurant, today I want to reflect on something a little different.
Lately I’ve been working on loving myself and loving my own company, finding happiness in times of solitude. I went through a period where I lost my admiration for myself and so today, on Thanksgiving, I am thankful for me. I’m thankful for my strength to fight. I’m thankful for my individuality and my love for writing. I’m thankful that I know exactly who I am and I’m thankful that I love her. I am thankful that I am alive.
I pray that you never lose sight of yourself.
Happy Thanksgiving, friends.
–Leanne Rebecca
Dedicated to my sister Becky, whom I never met.
–Leanne Rebecca
I’ve been MIA. I know it. You know it too and I owe you an explanation:
I’m currently editing a poetry book that has been a couple years in the making. It’s nearing the stage of “completion,” which I put in quotations because I’m not sure I will ever be able to say I’m 100% satisfied with my writing. Poetry is a process that takes time and evolves as we grow and change. Anyway, I’m throwing myself into the collection and sadly as a result, I’ve held my breath on here.
I’m sorry!
Posts might be sparse in the upcoming weeks as I work through the editing process and enter into the nightmare that is the publishing world. I promise I will never forget you and even in the silence, I hear you.
Thank you for your patience.
–Leanne Rebecca
She's in Prison 