Meeting fellow creatives is one of the highlights of being an artist. When I came across Lillian Brummet’s work, I was inspired by her lively writing style and her desire to help others find wellness through nature, music, and healthy eating (three of my favorite things!). I was thrilled to connect with Lillian and ask her a few

Dear Class of 2021, Here is a little poem for you. I hope you are well, and I hope you take what you have learned and treat your days with love, wisdom, and enchantment. Gossamer Gowns Today I heard the leavesthat seemed to grieve with me. The past is gone--it is no more.And yet, this Moment is the Evermore.Like a child I have prophesied New life on the Horizon. May I

Within the earth I weepAnd silence fills the deep. I cannot see the skyOr smiles passingby. I ache to simply Move, And come nearerTo you. But in this cage I stay,Tired of the Same. I remember TreesThe rustling of the Leaves. I rememberWater--When I was Summer’s daughter. Now I hear your Voice,Saying there isA choice:To stay within my earth, Or rise up from The dirt. I didn’t understandWhen you removed Your hand,That you had buried meBecause I amA seed. image via canva

Take the time to unwind my memories. Listen to me deeply, to the stories within. Like a child, lost in the world I have lost myself. Question me back into existence. Remind me who I once was. Photo by A.A. Fouch

Dear Reader,The following is a feminist rhetorical analysis of one of my favorite books, Phantastes by George MacDonald. Though we use the word “feminist” in rhetorical criticism, it is not particular to females, nor is it political. Instead, it seeks to disrupt hegemonic views (long-standing ideologies). I hope you enjoy reading and are encouraged to pick up this

“Do not desire," he said to me With wearied eyes and worn beliefs,"Desire only comes to grief;From seeking, there is no relief." I asked him all that he desired--He showed me what he had acquired:All the time that he had spentOn clothes and foodand friends and rent; On chasing after selfish dreams,Desires born of ingrown schemes. I said, "You simply live too

Fragile thought is like a bird--Evading eyes but always heard. Wonderous elusive creature!With intricate and el'gant feature!Away he jumps straight into flight, If ever he’s caught in my sight. Perched upon the window sill Attending to his wondrous trill, Too late I tune to hear his songHeard so quick, then quickly gone. Seen from the corners of my eyesHis home the whole of

My eyes flicker openSleepily. Warm, golden lightCasts a magical hazeOver my room. In this moment, There is no time. I can picture myself Many years in the future, In the place where everyone knows my name, and I am loved as dearly as the moon, For there, In the future, We all reflect the Son. I breathe slowly and peacefully. There is no rush to be anywhere,or to do anything in particular. If

via istockphoto.comSince childhood, I have been a pretty serious little person. I can look at a gum wrapper (this honestly happened when I was younger) and cry about its significance. Granted, there are things in life that are serious, and they should be treated with respect. This concept is not often grasped in today's "meme culture" where everything

I am currently enjoying my last semester of college, and loving every helter-skelter minute of it. While listening to some poetry by Emily Dickinson in one of my morning classes, I was struck by the idea for this poem about memory. Writers are, I think, in many ways slaves to their memories. I have had a "memory hoarding" issue