July 13, 2022 by Bridgette

Poetry: Inside the Cave

Another fiery hot headache erupts inside your skull
turning pale cheeks crimson. Disappearing beneath
a thin, black blanket—you retreat into the cave’s deep
crisp darkness. I suppress bubbling anger’s hot breath
tight inside infinities compassionate heart; draining
like cups lining crowded cracked windowsill. Please,

be okay. Worry lines crease, carve my aging mom face—
chiseled rock tracing waters long cascading movements
through life’s echoey darkness. Foamy pools of cooling
relief sit waiting for moments to pass, for pacing eons
to eek by into light’s laughing return. Heart remembers
every nighttime outcry, each soothing back rub. Please,

be okay. Reaching through foggy depths flash flooded
with writhing madnesses ugly nightmares, your fingers
wind tight around blankets edge; my feather-soft motherly
kisses on soaked brows do nothing. Anger ripples dirty
clothes piled high igniting guilt’s powerful ringing rage
pounding ancient rocks into fine powdery dust. Please,

be okay. Fear transforms uneven tapering columns
into screeching monsters to slay. Drawing wet sword
angry words drip, drip, drip through silence too thick
for thinking. Screams soften by plunging heavy, headfirst
into icy water’s depth to see through stinging eyes past
adventures where love’s sweet patience held fast. Please,

be okay. Lashing, tearing with pain’s tired hoarse voice
blame begets blame until desperate razor-sharp rockslides
throw open windows repose letting sweet swirling wind
signal truce. Whispered kindness wipes at particles left
stinging, laughing off this dance, forgetting how darkness
clung everywhere at once—embracing love’s shining light.

My teenage son suffers from chronic migraines. While I strive to be loving, kind, and motherly at all times, anger bubbles forth when he’s down. It’s anger at the situation, but it becomes anger at everything. We fight when it’s over as if we can keep it from returning by scaring it away. I’m not proud of this pattern and this poem is my attempt at processing my feelings.

July 11, 2022 by Bridgette

Photography: Home Sweet Home

It’s fascinating to discover the mood of a person’s home—the things they choose to collect, the way the furniture is arranged, and the items which make up the unique personalities of the people who live within its walls. I’d describe our home as weathered, warm, eclectic, and messy. I am sentimental. I have lots of artwork made by my kids, plants, a teacup collection from one grandmother, a glass perfume bottle collection from another, ceramics, and lots of books and photographs.

I’ve been mostly homebound this week so I decided to photograph things around my house—a tiny glimpse into the place I call home. I hope something here brings a smile to your face.

Next week I’ll be attending a music festival and should have some interesting photos to share with you. Have a wonderful week and, if you live where it’s heating up, stay safe!

What to see more?

July 5, 2022 by Bridgette

Poetry: Rainbow Reflections

gazing through bubbles refracted light
I search the curves for the parts of me
stuck within the heavy paralysis of night

unrecognizable, untouched I smile despite
treading choppy waters of the darkest sea
gazing through bubbles refracted light

probing tired feelings I write and rewrite
hurts with bleeding fingers, piled debris
stuck within the heavy paralysis of night

colorful galaxies explode with meteorite
quickness, explosions blasting truths proxy
gazing through bubbles refracted light

exhaustion whispers hurt meant to incite
rioting wildness, love’s saddest symphonies
stuck within the heavy paralysis of night

finger poised to break rainbows requite
I pause, struck by life’s familiar frailty
gazing through bubbles refracted light
stuck within the heavy paralysis of night

This was my attempt at exploring my reoccurring seasons of depression and loneliness through the format of the villanelle. There’s something appealing to me about writing poetry with strict formats—perhaps it’s a false sense of control when I’m feeling so helpless and vulnerable. Let me know what you think of my first attempt at this type of poem and if you are in the dark right now please know you aren’t alone.

July 4, 2022 by Bridgette

Photography: 4th of July

I’ve not felt patriotic in years. After seeing a terrible car accident this morning and reading of yet another mass shooting, my mood is far from celebratory. I decided to photograph my day in an attempt to combat the anger, disappointment, and sadness at fully realizing freedom in America has always been selective. It’s getting harder and harder to cling to the hope things will get better.

Here’s a look at what brings me joy and gives me the energy to keep fighting—my sister’s new puppy, playing with my sweet nephew, dominoes, fresh tomatoes, swimming with my mom and aunt, and sparklers.

Thank you so much for your support.

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June 29, 2022 by Bridgette

Poetry: Starfish

clinging to rocks with five arms
the starfish thrives under the sea
bounded by thick seaweed forests
and surrounded by free creatures
living complex underwater dramas
and grasping tightly for survival

diving under I hold my own survival
like a bawling baby tight within strong arms
made tough by fighting external dramas
created through daring the churning sea
of man to see me worthy among creatures;
equal to those hiding within its dark forests

with wide womanly hips, I dance in forests
singing of my own truth, my own survival
while being told I’m weak among creatures,
unworthy of spinning with wide open arms
spread like wings deep into the sea
of truth you’ve churned into polity dramas

you try and create new elaborate dramas
within the shadowy, political forests
telling me my body floating in the sea
isn’t worthy of fighting for its own survival;
instead, you must tie my wide-spread arms
behind me like all wild and crazy creatures

for you know better, you zealot savage creatures
bent on pushing single-minded dramas
held in your pure, pious, and holy arms;
while I must run into the dangerous forests
without protection, fighting for survival
in your newly created shark-infested sea

with wide breaststrokes, I swim out to sea
feeling one with the wild salty creatures
who know the sacred truths of survival;
watching breezy seaweed dramas
dance before me in underwater forests,
hugging myself tightly with loving arms

the tempestuous sea hosts maddened dramas
of all God’s creatures within wavy seaweed forests
filled with starfish arms reaching toward survival

untie my sweet womanly arms as I float in the sea
or dance in forests with its many feral creatures;
let me control the myriad dramas of my own survival

After spending a few days at the ocean I wrote this sestina to process what’s happening to woman’s rights in this country and ready myself to fight back. I’m not interested in debating the issue and any comments attempting to do so will be removed.

June 27, 2022 by Bridgette

Photography: Dillon Beach

I’ve spent the last few days with my writing partner Anna, her daughter Bella, and my daughter Lola at Dillon Beach. While it’s over 100 degrees back home it’s been cool and overcast here. We’ve had several days filled with talking, relaxing, and writing. Considering the state of affairs in the world right now it felt extra special to be together as women near the healing energy of the ocean.

I struggled to photograph the beach in ways I haven’t before and I’m not sure I was very successful. I included a photograph of a fire truck as yesterday we came across a woman who broke her ankle on the hiking trail down to the beach. Anna held her leg and comforted her while the rest of us flagged down the first responders when they arrived. Watching how everyone came together to help this woman was a wonderful example of kindness in a world that feels a bit scary at the moment.

Thank you, as always, for your support of my blog. I hope you have a wonderful day.

Here’s a bonus photo my lovely and talented friend Anna took of me. You can find her incredible artwork and writings at loscotoff.com.

June 22, 2022 by Bridgette

Poetry: Candy in a Dish

hot thighs, stomach rolls
sweaty armor, sweetly eaten
protect hard, hide soft

weary smiles, turn away
deep water, baggy clothes
dream free, life restored

II.

touched without my permission in hot
places where thumping music makes thighs
jump and sway, alcohol-filled stomach
churns truth until it tumbles, rolls

shadowed memories turn into wispy sweaty
kisses pressed against tightly layered armor
shattering fragile identity, fat words sweetly
whispered with fragrant wolfy breath—eaten

tumbling out dirty doors, stars protect
while Mother Moon watches with hard
kind eyes, stealthily struggling to hide
tears under swelling flesh made soft

fistfuls of candy devoured in weary
attempt to lock in realistic smiles
while broken-hearted I pirouette turn
carefully from danger; take me away

keep marching through tunnels down deep
sacred places boogeymen can’t go; water
too filled with sugary goodies baggy
after baggy blooming like puffy clothes

shaking nightmare voices off, golden dreams
swirl unfocused almost saying I’m free;
running even-breathed penning new life
while courageous sun promises hope restored

This poem is for others like me still processing old trauma and heartbreak anyway we can. May you find your way toward the healing sun. I hope to meet you there someday.

The format of this poem is one I did before, where each word in the first poem becomes the last line of each stanza in the second. Thank you for reading and supporting my poetry adventures.

June 20, 2022 by Bridgette

Photography: Around the Pond

My photos this week were all taken around the pond at William Land Park in the early evening. It was warm outside and I learned the lotus flowers I wanted to capture only open early in the morning and are closed by mid-afternoon.

I had the intention of returning later in the week to try again, but my son started summer school and life got busy. Perhaps in a few weeks, when school finishes, I’ll have time to return to this beautiful spot.

Although I didn’t get the blooms, I am happy with the photos I was able to capture of the animals living around the pond, especially the dragonflies. Let me know what you think in the comments below and I hope you have a wonderful week.

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June 15, 2022 by Bridgette

Poetry: Free Mom Hugs

Past

would you have trusted me more
if I’d known about fingertip sparks
and fluttering hearts?

or if I’d really looked at
tiny pencil drawings on matchboxes and
folded paper napkins?

you’d pass notes I didn’t understand—
messages scrawled on scraps of paper
palm to palm

rainbows hung around your pretty neck;
delicate lovely things refracting light into
everything you did

you left without goodbyes—fleeing rejections
spurred by fevered religious hate disguised
as family love

you drew naked ladies in Paris
seeing worldly wonders dreaming nightly with
fingertips stained black

floating down stone steps in tailored
suits you charmed everyone with your
soft blue eyes

returning home sick, thick sketchbook under
heavy arms we talked about everything
but the truth

you left without me seeing you
kiss your lovers, pink-skinned blushing
on ornate bridges

or watching you dance under moonlit
skies with flowers tucked into your
fluffy blonde hair

Present

driving nowhere we sing with windows
down, wind blowing tangles into your
fluffy red hair

I sense something brewing behind quiet
lips, fingers fidget with your many
bright silver rings

with a trembling voice, you say
you like girls—scared of rejection
bare legs shake

you’ve known since kindergarten, but it
wasn’t something you wanted to explore
or talk about

honored, I listen to your deeply
held sacred truths; as you discover
who you are

my old friend breathes words of
comfort through me helping me ease
your coming out

grabbing soft hands tightly, I squeeze
three times letting you know my
love remains unchanged

balancing stone words we build together
walls to fight against those who
would seek destruction

inked drawings, musical explorations, the Heartstopper
you share everything with me, showing
me the way

crying at pride, past present swirl
promising to do better armed with
free mom hugs

In honor of Pride Month, I dedicate this poem to a dear high school friend who died of AIDS and my beautiful daughter who trusts me with her truth. I reference the show “Heartstopper” on Netflix and can’t recommend it enough for its sweet portrayal of love. Happy Pride Month!

June 13, 2022 by Bridgette

Photography: A Day at the Zoo

I’ve been looking at a lot of photographs and find I’m really drawn to photojournalism. I love when a photographer tells a story through their images, capturing a moment in time or the essence of a person or place. I’d like to work on developing my own style of images.

On the road to improvement, I’ll be dedicating the next few weeks to photographing on a theme. This week, my offering is from a recent visit to the Sacramento Zoo. I had a small child with me, so I didn’t have as much time as I’d have liked to stay in one place and capture multiple images. However, it’s all part of the process and I rather enjoyed myself.

Thank you for your support and have a wonderful week.