Posted in Prose

The Moon’s Blush

The Sun so loved the Moon.  Her luminous smile set his heart aflame.  His burning desire shone for all to see. But he yearned for the darkness.  The Moon lit the night, paving the way for his dreams.  The glow of her celestial presence would wash over him, cooling the flames.  There were times when she would blush a deep red.  As if she knew his thoughts.  This is when he loved her the most.  The Stars shared the night with the Moon, as the Sun never could.  The Sun looked on; his desperate heart aching.  He knew he would never be with the radiant beauty that he loved from afar. The Stars twinkled a “tisk, tisk”; for they had the wisdom of the heavens.  The Sun loved in vain.  He would wait for the night so that his dreams would carry him to his beloved.

Copyright 2019 Penny Wilson

Image by PIRO4D from Pixabay

Someone is always home sick: chicken pox, strep throat, another chicken pox, stomach flu…Baby Bliss sits on her hip. It is only later that week, perhaps, when the house is finally quiet, the dishwasher humming in the downstairs dark, her husband not yet home, and upstairs the kids are asleep or at least pretending. When […]

via when the house is finally quiet — Live & Learn

when the house is finally quiet — Live & Learn

“At last, I have set you free. Do you know how beautiful that feels?” The last words you ever said to me was, “Set me free.” It wasn’t something I expected, and it’s taken me so long to release the weight I’ve held on my shoulders. Weight that was never mine to bear. You see, […]

via A Beautiful Feeling — Heartstring Eulogies

A Beautiful Feeling — Heartstring Eulogies

Posted in Prose

The River Banks

The river.  Just a small body of water.  The banks steep.  My world on one side.  Theirs on the other.  I gaze out through these cloistered windows at the lives led beyond them.  A man walks through the park with family and friends.  A picnic yesterday among the trees, with children at play.  Sometimes, I watch an old man sit and feed the ducks.  His hands shake from age.  Perhaps they shake from the liquid he finds in the bottle he presses to his lips.  Sometimes a young girl brings her school books and contemplates the blue, blue sky while watching passers-by in front of her.  After a while, a young man meets her there.  They touch and laugh.  Her face lights up in his presence.  I wonder about these lives.  I imagine myself as one of them on occasion.  Blasphemy, I know.  But sometimes I do wonder… What are the river banks protecting me from?

Copyright (C) 2018 Penny Wilson

  • Just a bit of imagination here.  This was prompted by Frank’s Tuesday Photo prompt. If you would like to join in on the fun, you can find out all about it HERE.
Posted in Prose

Tears From Dust

They say that tears come from the heart.  I beg to differ.  You see, there was a place inside me where I held you close.  But through the years, that place became as hollow as your soul.  Instead of compassion, you showed indifference.  You turned a blind eye.  Your own twisted cravings became the priority in your life.  I was left in the dust.  This is where my tears came from; the dust in your wake.

Copyright (C) 2018 Penny Wilson

Posted in Writing

Beta Readers?

First of all, I need to apologize for my lack of posting lately.  Work has been crazy-busy.  I am still settling into my new home, so that keeps me busy.  I finally hung curtains in the bedroom over the weekend.  🙂  So my time here has been put on the back burner.

Something I have been working on away from WordPress is a Chapbook, of sorts.  I’ve decided to go the self-publishing route the first time around.  I think it will be a good experience for me and it will give me some needed exposure.

The reason I say this will be a Chapbook “of sorts”, is because it will combine poetry, prose and some flash fiction.  I’m looking at a total of about 70 to 75 pages for the book.

I would like to enlist the help of my fellow bloggers/writers here on WordPress.  I want about 6 Beta Readers for this project. I cannot pay anyone for this.  I’m asking for a favor.

I will be asking you to commit to a 2-week deadline and to answer a list of questions about the book.  With the book being only 75 pages or so, that timeline shouldn’t be difficult.

If you think you would like to be a Beta Reader for me,  please either use the contact form on my WordPress site or you can reach me by email at

At that point, I will give you a more in-depth idea of what I’m looking for and the list of questions I would like for you to answer about the book.

Once I have enough Beta Readers, I’ll close this post.

I’m excited about this project and I’m anxious to get started!  I look forward to your input!

Thank you for joining me on this journey!  Penny ❤



Posted in Poetry, Prose


My heart shattered into a million pieces.  A cliche’, I know.  But let me explain why I describe it this way.  I look at the cracks and count them one by one.  This one taught me this, that one taught me something else.  The one over there; bitter sweet memories.  Lessons learned.  Just another path in the road of life.  They twist and turn, sometimes backtracking.  Some intertwine.  I suspect, this one is where my heart and my head were at war.  I think that tiny one, almost too faint to see, is my First heartache.  Each crack, a spot where I let in the love, or an escape from the ravages of war.  Every one painful; but I wouldn’t trade them for anything.  The cracks and fissures are part of me.  They have molded me into the woman I am today.  Yes, I’ll keep my shattered heart.  I’ve grown quite fond of it.

Copyright (C) 2018 Penny Wilson 

Posted in Poetry, Prose

Be Held

He just wanted to hold me.  I was tattered and torn and I pushed him away, determined to claw my way through.  I held on.

He just wanted to hold me.   I fought and raged and pushed and stumbled, always with chin up and chest out.  I held on.

He just wanted to hold me.  Determination blinded me.  I ate it for breakfast; choked on it.  I held on.

He just wanted to hold me.  I clamored and battled again and again.  I held on.

Then, I couldn’t go on.  I had all I could take.  I had nothing left to give.

I stopped Holding On.

Finally, when I had exhausted all hope, he tenderly held me close.  He held me as I wept and he held me as I cursed.  He held me until my tears ran dry.

I felt my strength return and hope restored within his loving embrace.  I was once again strong enough to do battle.  I learned something that would carry me into tomorrow and beyond, with unending hope and strength.

Sometimes it’s alright to Stop Holding On and

Just Be Held.

Copyright (C) 2018 Penny Wilson

THIS  was a post I did about Casting Crowns’ beautiful song, “Just Be held”.  I worried at first that I may have plagiarized the lyrics, but after some thought and other’s input, I don’t think so.  Therefore, I think this poem/prose deserves to proudly stand on it’s own.  🙂  I hope you enjoyed it.  Thanks for reading! 

Posted in Prose

Not Since You

Have I stopped to take in the spray of the surf or the scent of the salt air?

Have I relished the sound of rain on the roof, or a fireplace embers’ glow at night?

Have I cherished a lover’s touch or lingered over the bliss that only real love can give?

Not since you.

You were my safe haven; there to protect me from the world.  The night held no fear for me as long as you were by my side.  Can I face the sunrise with anticipation?  Or plan my tomorrows now?

Not since you.

Copyright (C) 2018 Penny Wilson

* Day 23 of my 30 days, Post-A-Day challenge. 🙂