Dead Butterfly

By Elizabeth Barrera

Closer he comes to the flower
each time they meet.
He would caress her beautiful petals
with his dignitary love.


But the flower withered so suddenly
that she forgot to tell the butterfly
how beautiful his wings are,
how colorful her world is with him.


Each time a bud glows,
the butterfly's eyes would twinkle
but the day becomes gloomy
upon the hurtful realization.


Though he still went on with his life,
he could never really find
someone as precious as the flower,
someone who holds the dead butterfly's heart.
<strong>Elizabeth Barrera</strong>
Elizabeth Barrera

I am Elizabeth Barrera from the Philippines. I’ve been in love with writing since time immemorial, but I found my passion in poetry. I fell in love with the rhymes, imagery, metaphors, and all others. It is about speaking to your audience with fewer words but with deep meaning. Someday, I also wish to publish a book that could inspire people across the world.

(This post contains affiliate links. See my disclosure about affiliate links here.)

Use code “2019bestcanvasprints” for 35% off sitewide + free us shipping! Brand + Blog Styling Bundle

The Blotted Truth

A short story by Leena Auckel

She glanced at the paintings hanging on the wall. Some abstracts and some landscapes. It was a pleasant sight! When Henry wasn’t busy analysing enzymes and DNA in his lab, he used to paint in his studio. In the corner, she saw a sturdy shelf containing thick books. She trailed her fingers along the titles on the book spine. Secrets of the Chemists, DNA Demystified, and after more interesting titles. She reached his easel. On the canvas was a majestic swan gliding in a blue lake, that part was freshly painted with different shades of blue, which rendered it very vivid, she could almost catch the faintest ripple on the lake. She liked how the sky pigment sculpted the contours of the conifers around the lake.

It was amazing how he could handle electron microscopes and his paintbrush with the same finesse. She came near his table, a white mug contained water he had rinsed his paintbrushes in and the pots of cobalt blue and navy blue pots of paint he used to paint the lake lay next to it.

Cassandra had a passion for painting too but the sands of time wanted otherwise. Each time she started to draw something she was discouraged by her partner’s harsh comments.

Somehow seeing colours always brought back her childhood memories for those were the only colourful phase of her life. Unlike the last 2 years which were only a bleak black and white. She had been under constant psychological and moral abuse by her partner Jake, which had eroded her cheery personality and rendered her stoic. She was being dragged in the swirling vortex of manipulation without even realising it.

Henry had been abroad for some years. It was only two months ago that he came to Hamilton. At first, Cassandra plainly refused for the meet-up, like she had been doing for many other reunions and outings lately because Jake did not see it with a good eye.

In the beginning, she used to feel bad about not being able to meet her friends and relatives, but with time she changed. She started spinning a cocoon of low-esteem around her, and she showed no interest in sharing laughter with happy people.

Cassandra gave in only when her other two friends told her they would pick her up from work and meet over lunch. She would have been swallowed in a depressive tornado by now, if it was not for Henry, who saw how drastically she had changed from the happy-go-lucky girl he had known as a classmate to a forlorn girl with wrinkles of worry.

She went so far back in time that she inadvertently knocked over the cup of water which tipped over the pots of the navy blue and royal blue paint. A navy blue river started to form its way on the table sinuously until it reached Cassandra’s finger, which was lingering on the table. The cold water stimulated the thermoreceptors on her fingertips and flipped Cassandra back to reality. She stared at the mess in horror. She quickly picked up the cup and grabbed hold of some tissue paper and stopped the water from flowing from the edge of the table. Just in time before it reached the floor!

There was still some paint residue on the table. She reached for the tissue roll to wipe the rest of the paint only to find that it was over. She heard the garage door opening. Henry was back! Oh my god, what do I do now?! I created such a mess. It’s always me. Wherever I go things go wrong!

Her heart was pounding as she looked frantically around the room for something to clean the mess. Luckily, she found a bunch of filter papers lying on the bookshelf. She grabbed one of them and lunged towards the table. The knob of the door clicked and Henry’s shadow flooded the doorway.

“Am-am so sorry Henry, I didn’t mean to. I mean it’s my mistake, ev, everything just toppled over. I am cleaning it!” she muttered.

Henry just stood there staring at her. This made her even more uncomfortable. She wondered how will he react, will he brood? Will he scold? Or worst, will he beat me? This was how Jake used to react during disputes, with time she had been conditioned into walking on eggshells.

“Am almost done,” she said heading towards the table her cheeks turning crimson. By now the filter paper had absorbed most of the residual paint. She reached for it and started to crumple it.

“Wait!”

She froze. She closed her eyes. It’s coming. She closed her eyes harder, conditioning herself to bear the pain.

She waited. Nothing.

“Cassandra …Cassandra!” he said in a soft voice.

Henry held her shoulders and turned her around and looked into her eyes.
“It’s fine!” he said. “it’s just some paint,why are you getting so worked up?”

He picked up the filter paper and admired it,  the blue colours which had seeped in had taken different hues of blue.

“This is beautiful,” he whispered.

He bent down took his paintbrush and dipped in the the navy blue pot of paint and brushed a few strokes on the blotting paper. Cassandra peered to see what he was doing but she could only make out a blue blob of paint at the rim of the paper. He dipped the brush in black paint now and painted few more strokes and placed it back.

Now she could make it out. He had drawn a woman figure on the filter paper.

“For you this might be a wasted filter paper meant to be discarded. But the artist in me sees a sky on that paper. And that’s you with all the sky stretched in front of you showing you that possibilities are infinite.
Even if you soaked up all the mess that doesn’t make you less valuable, Cassandra. What you have endured does not put you to a disadvantage instead it has built you and armoured you with shields that will help you face harder days with ease.”

He stared at Cassandra’s awe-filled eyes and continued. “Don’t make yourself a victim of what you have undergone, you are more than just a sufferer. You are a Warrior! This sky is just waiting for You to open your wings and fly. Yes, Cassandra fly! Fly and conquer new horizons!”

<strong>Leena Auckel</strong>
Leena Auckel

I am from Mauritius, a tropical island in the Indian Ocean.  Presently, I’m working as a lecturer in a Medical University.  I started writing as a hobby back in college and gradually, written words became my lifebuoy.  With life becoming more of a whirlpool, writing keeps me afloat and helps me reach out to people.

During my journey from medical student to tutor, I have come across many students with difficulty to cope at both academic and psychological levels hence my purpose to write motivational quotes.  My other hobbies include cooking, drawing and painting. My current project is to bring together my paintbrush and pen to promote mental and physical health.

Find me on my Facebook Page: Sun-Kissed Ink

(This post contains affiliate links. See my disclosure about affiliate links here.)

Poetry by Karen Blunt

Remains of the Day

By Karen Blunt

In the rubble of my memories...
As I searched thru the dust filled corners of my mind
I found a remnant of you...
What was left of our torrid love affair.
How our passion burned so hot...
Now the remains are only ashes
And each day that passes...
I leave the remains of us farther behind.

Blissful Love

By Karen Blunt

I wish to dwell forever in the pantheon of your love.
To bask in the glorious feel of your touch.
To drink in the sweetness of your kiss...
Forever lost in this blissful affair.

About the Poet

Poetry by Karen Blunt

Karen Blunt lives in Arizona. She is 62 years young and single. She currently lives with her daughter and her family. She is a retired chef and still love to cook, but only cooks for her family. She is an amateur photographer and often uses her own photos as background for her poems. Karen is an avid reader and hopes to publish her own book in the future. She has not yet published anything, but has written a few short stories when she was younger. You can find Karen on Instagram: @blunt.karen.

(This post contains affiliate links. See my disclosure about affiliate links here.)

Grammarly Writing Support

The Little Shed

The little shed is painted blue
with two old chairs for me and you
We sit and talk till stars shine high
Discuss wild dreams and sometimes cry
The shed is dark and meant for tools
but staged just right for dreaming fools
One day we'll laugh and reminisce
Having checked off goals from
our shed dream list

Dedicated to my honey. ❤
-Deanna Ramirez ©

Equalizer

The war in me for equality
For equal pay
Performing quality work 
in the same way
And never needing to be told
Cause I have integrity to uphold
I do what is right
Regardless of whose around
or nowhere in sight
In my skin, I have nothing to hide
Living above reproach
with family on my side
Not the one's that you may think
Most of them prefer 
that I fail and sink
Please don't waste pretense to worry about me
I know who to trust and hold close
Those who are fake
in due time, truth wins
and their lies are exposed

Deanna M Ramirez ©
Photo by Chelsi Peter on Pexels.com

Book Review – Where the Crawdads Sing

Where the Crawdads Sing by Delia Owens

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

I just finished Where the Crawdads Sing last week, and I have been missing Kya ever since. Beautifully, succinctly penned. Delia Owens made me fall in love with the North Carolina marsh and wild life. I love how she weaved her scientific knowledge of environment, creatures-especially birds, and flora into the story in such a way that it breathed life into it. The marsh and wild life became part of Kya. It was her home, and truly took on it’s own role throughout the story. I grew fond of the other characters too- Jumpin had my heart. I wished for Kya to move in and live with Jumpin and Mabel, though I accept that Delia Owens could not write this compelling story with that outcome.

I highly recommend this book! I’d let you borrow mine, but I’ve already loaned my copy to my sister in law. GREAT read!
If you prefer audio – I can attest that the unabridged audio version is excellent!



View all my reviews

Book Review: Everything I Never Told You

Everything I Never Told You by Celeste Ng

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

GREAT summer read. Good plot, cadence, no use of overly complicated language to distract from the story, and an interesting take on family dynamics. Personal opinion/preference: It would have been nice to see the family have some life to them – more love shown, good experiences sprinkled in to make me fall in love with the characters. It’s hard to believe, for all of Lydia’s life, that she and her family operated like robots. Then add the youngest child, neglected so much so that she hides when not being ignored. I do see the use of her character being designed this way – it helps draw out new things and observances with a character that is there, yet overlooked and ignored. I think I would’ve connected with the family in a more deep way had I been able to feel more life and love between them; more than knowing glances, etc. All that aside – I thoroughly enjoyed this booked. It flowed easily. It was real peek into a family with secrets. A family struggling – each member with their own individual struggle; internal battles flowing over, spilling into each others lives causing interesting and polarizing conflict. A story beginning and ending with death is a delicate thing, and Celeste Ng is brave to pen Everything I Never Told You in this way. She did so beautifully.



View all my reviews