a thank you for you — and your light — Thank you, dear readers Heaven’s manna, being heard You are Grace and Feast — dark Before now crystal caves echoing flames of Afters ©Jenine Bsharah Baines 2021 I’ve been intrigued by the idea of a crystal cave ever since I read Mary Stewart’s The Crystal Cave when I was 14…

Take a walk with me… — “In the end, we’re all just walking each other home.” Ram Dass The above quote says it all for me. I could so easily make it my entire bio…Except I suspect Quy Ma expects a bit more out of me than this. (Insert smile emoji.)

A celebration of new friendships unfurling — Let’s not be afraid to receive each day’s surprise, whether it comes to us as sorrow or as joy. It will open a new place in our hearts, a place where we can welcome new friends and celebrate more fully our shared humanity. Henri Nouwen Flowered fingertips Zipped seed coats no…

Wings written into being — “If you believe,” he shouted to them, “clap your hands; don’t let Tink die.” J.M. Barrie - Peter Pan Do not dissect me letter by letter in an attempt to articulate who I am. Define me not — by how you sound me out in wee, uncertain syllables but by…

GiaB writing prompt #2–25 inventions — Like parched earth’s orgasmic mewing as it opens to the ecstatically long limbs of the rain – I welcome this evening’s hot shower Fuchsia bliss, coreopsis and candytuft fields of gratitude rising with the tile floor’s wetness Every piece of me pristinely grouted with snowdrop joy Spring is showering at…

A tale of Casper the ghost dog & Theo my grand-doggie Yeah, you made me feel shiny and new — like a virgin. Madonna Madonna reinvented herself, inspiring my soles to slip into her footprint like Cinderella’s into the glass slipper, except my reinvention is neither marketing ploy nor fairytale…

A one-sentence, 200-word paean to listening — Next time before we talk politics, let’s count to ten then listen because talking at one another to talk the other into our enlightened point of view, our top gun spin on what the horizon holds, our righteous cause, our intellectually superior camp whose caves of the heart are as in sync as…

A poem for The Lark poetry competition — You would think, by now, my mane would have gotten the memo: shed only in the shower, congregate solely in brush and comb. But, no, my follicles follow their own muse, releasing will o’ the wisp clusters and wafts with neither rhyme nor rhythm – freely versed, kind of disgusting yet…

My magic kiss is my own — “Someday my prince will come.” Snow White The last time I dove into the deep end of the pool, I hit my head – the waters masking their shallowness, the floor of my unfiltered faith in appearances shattering, splashing wide eyes red-rimmed. I’d forgotten my goggles. The child who belly-flopped…