I See You

Stephanie Bennett-Henry – A promise, a manifesto, a truth

Stephanie Bennett-Henry

So shrug it off. Drop the heavy from your shoulders light and smile. You fucking smile. You know it will change your whole day. Open your eyes. There is beauty everywhere. And isn’t it funny how simple minded thoughts like that may have good intentions, but listen… just listen. The beauty you see is yours, so look at it all day. I hope it makes you smile. I hope it fills you with magic and positivity and all the warm, fuzzy feelings you ever wanted. But don’t assume that everyone has the same view as you. They don’t. Trust me when I say they have their eyes wide open and they see a different picture. You probably haven’t seen those shades before through your own eyes, so I know it’s hard to understand. But try. Try harder to stop paying the stigma forward. It’s not funny. It’s not an eye…

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The outsider

TheFeatheredSleep – Someone excluded


38638686_1843766582406138_8072796370370560000_nshe wasn’t like them, so they didn’t like her

to her face they smiled and said ‘nice things’

which she knew were lies

behind her back they laughed

and made dirty-lezzie jokes

because it made them uncomfortable

to think about what they thought she did

it made them feel a bit disgusted

like when you stand too close

whilst she looked like them in superficial ways

wore at times, nicer dresses and had longer hair

the fact that she liked girls wasn’t in their

comfort zone

when it was summer time they had

BBQ’s and invited all the neighborhood kids

wondering if she would be safe around minors or

would do something inappropriate

when they started a mommy running club

she wasn’t invited because she was neither

a mommy or someone they wanted to

bare their secrets with

what would she understand of husbands?

maybe their husbands liked her


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Jan Malique is grateful.

Strange Goings On In The Shed

thank-you-515514__480 GingerQuip, Pixabay

It may seem that most of my writing is immersed in impenetrable discourses between mysterious and puzzling characters and long forgotten deities. ‘Not at all’ says she with a wry smile. There are pauses between the flow of words that shed welcome light into the garden of the Soul.

At such times I am reminded of very great blessings present in my life.

Not of a material nature, but of people. Of course I cling to material objects like books and cherished gifts from family and friends. They are a part of the story of my life and have shaped who I am and will be. Regardless, the people I know, have briefly met, love and appreciate are the greatest potters who have shaped this vessel.

It is to those people and the ones who strive to make this world a better place for all, I bow my…

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Lantern girl

TheFeatheredSleep – “your smile is a lantern lighting doubt”


pexels-photo-980859I desire things I’m not allowed to have

like a ball of twine will wish to be perfectly recalled

nothing looks as new after it is worn

I carry the burrs, twigs and meal of my journey

the caterpillar hollows my tunnel

the firefly lights the way ahead

she told me, the way people smell is how she knows

whom to trust, whom to join, whom to discard

her feet are hennaed, her eyelashes thick like horse hair

when she looks at me, the moon is insignificant in contrast

these sighs ride on a warm wind to far-flung places

we follow as addicts of destination

there is nothing about here keeping us

aside ourselves and the anchor of habit

in novels the heroines grow older and more hesitant

to join eclipsing tide and sail away

you have never had such palsy

you are brimming with courage like

a stout…

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Renewal and Beginnings

Jan Malique accepts a challenge and a meditation on Renewal and Beginnings results.

Strange Goings On In The Shed


I was invited to take part in the 3.2.1 Me Challenge by Jordan at https://desertrose.blog/2018/08/26/how-i-found-inspiration/

The rules are simple:

1. Thank the person who nominated you.

2. Provide two quotes on the subject you are sent by that person.

3. Invite three other bloggers to take part (if they so wish) in the challenge. See invitations at the end of the post.

Thank you Jordis for your reflective post on Inspiration, and for inviting me to write about Renewal. Glad you followed your heart.

Renewal and Beginnings

Where to start on such a deeply meaningful and emotionally loaded subject? Each moment of life is an exercise in renewal, which holds within itself a beginning and end. Both require mourning and renewal.

Each breath we take is an affirmation of the eternal spirit that resides within us. A spirit whose consciousness whispers words of encouragement and comfort. Although it does have a…

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Hasty reviews Nicole Lyons’ new book, Blossom and Bone



You guys, I just read an advanced copy of Nicole Lyons new book Blossom and Bone.  My mind has been swimming with inspiration all weekend.  If you don’t know who Nicole Lyons is then….


That honestly surprises me because I truly believe she is going to be the next big poet that our students are required to study in school someday.

First, I didn’t know she was a poet when I first met her.  She was a fellow mental illness blogger, advocate, woman of strength and a force to be reckoned with.  She found a great many gems in the community around her and she highlighted them in such a way that made us all want to know each other.

Now about Blossom and Bone


I don’t write much anymore but as I read each poem I was taken to my own moments, to my own…

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Oh, for the love of Christ. Fooled by another f*cking covert narcissist?

LuckyOtter – Crocodile Tears

Lucky Otters Haven

Crocodile Tears

This time it’s a damned covert narc.  At least I think that’s what I’m dealing with.  Do I sound mad and upset?  You bet I am.   I hope I’m wrong but I know the red flags when I seee them.  I’ve had enough experience with them.

Hell, about two years ago (as some of you probably remember) I spent many weeks and maybe even months reading and studying everything I could find about all the symptoms and signs of covert NPD because I was so certain I must be one myself.   I probably qualify for an advanced degree in this disorder.  (Happily, I finally realized I am not one, but CPTSD, an earlier diagnosis of BPD, and my narcissistic “fleas” had me fooled.)

You may be aware I live with my daughter, who is 25.   She’s a good girl, hardworking, sweet, empathetic, intelligent, and beautiful (and I don’t just say…

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Autumn Song

Jan Malique sings of Autumn.

Strange Goings On In The Shed


Dare I mention the “A” word? You know, one with seasonal connections. It seems the seasons are turning, Summer is being infused with hints of smoky scents and deep tints of colour. Such marvels are best displayed in the clothing of trees gathered en masse in forest and woodland.

SuperPhoto_180826210041 Image: Jan Malique

These magnificent and venerable sentinels sway to silent music, shedding garb much like Salome and her Dance of the Seven Veils. They reveals aspects of Nature’s mysteries, alluring and offering a deep, deep peace. As for their life blood of sap, see it flow in a multide of tributaries, flowing ceaslessy towards their crowns. Towards a velvet darkness approaching with gifts of the harvest and songs of yearning, of loss and culmination.

SuperPhoto_180826205958 Image: Jan Malique

Nature gathers her dying children, lays them to rest in earth of brown, ochre and mustard. We hear the crunch of leaves underfoot…

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In her cull

TheFeatheredSleep on the passing of friend too soon.



Who knew how to die?

That it wouldn’t be instantaneous

As children imagine

A sudden pain, then unconsciousness

Who knew?

Death could go on years

Building and slowing like cold sea water

Burning firework left to fizzle alone in inky sky

That it would wind and unwind, a mad clock void of correct motion

Who knew?

It could take the very young, wrap them in wool, to cast down wet hill

The jarring and bumping eventual colission held at bay

Till forgotten

That it could take you

Suspend you from me and all familiar things

Where the recognition in your once clear and beautiful eyes

Became muddied and clouded with quiet violence

Your touch so soft, stolen and replaced with flinty brush off

Who knew

The courage of fighters

Seathing against their sentence and eventual

Chop chop of parts, scars and marred

Skin once free of blade

A scratch…

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