Response to a writing prompt

An island rose from the sea


It began as a little girl’s wish to have a magical place of her own. She prayed fervently every night for years but nothing changed. 10628262_1005639062795503_7739608798399268620_n

Years passed and she was lying on her death bed when her granddaughter burst into the room. “Grandma look out the window, there’s something you have to see.”

“I’m to tired child.”

“But Grandma there’s an island. It wasn’t there yesterday but it is today. Everyone is talking about it, some people are saying it’s dark magic. But I don’t believe it’s dark when you can see all the beautiful flowers in bloom.”

“Yes, child.”

“Grandma, please come to the window. I know seeing all the beauty will make you feel better.”

She wanted to lie there. She felt so tired, her time must be near. Yet, she didn’t want to disppoint her granddaughter. She tugged with her all her might to upright herself. It took a lot for her to stand but she made it. She grasped the nightstand table top and then the rocker until she made it to the window.

The sky didn’t have a cloud anywhere to be seen, yet the ocean looked more like ebony than blue to her. Sailor’s beware when the sea  looks dead. She turned to look more toward the right side of the bay and there it was. An island with a rocky shore line with lush green trees and flowers in every color under the rainbow. Were her  eyes playing tricks on her?

“Megan, get your father please.”

“Mom, what’s the matter?”

“Take me to the island, son.”

“But, Mom, you’re not strong enough.”

“Charles, take me to the island before its too late.”

Charles and Megan helped her down the stairs and across the yard. She looked like an ancient porcelain doll in the bright sunlight. They had to pause several times to let her catch her breath before moving on but eventually they made it to the pier. She asked him to hurry, time was running out.

He didn’t understand his mother’s urgency but didn’t want to disppoint her. It had been a very long time since she had been focused on anything let alone be on her feet walking. He paddled the boat until they were deep enough to drop the motor down.

His mother stared straight ahead as the wind teased her silver strands free from the bun Megan had put up earlier for her grandmother.

It only took a few mintues to arrive at the island but it seemed like forever to her. “Charles, please bring me close enough to walk.”

“Give me a minute, Mom, to tie the boat off and we’ll come with you.”

“No. No, I must go alone.”

Charles and Megan watched her struggle to stand in the gentle waves. She was hunched over using on her cane to support her frail body.

“Dad, is Grandma going to make it? Why can’t we go with her to help?”

The sky changed while they waited, He was worried that a storm was brewing. He needed to get them back home safely before the seas got rough. He called out to his mother but she didn’t answer. He and Megan frantically ran ashore to look for her.

She was lying beside the mountain laurel. He noted the peaceful expression on her face and knew without checking she was gone. He gently lifted his mother, surprised how little she weighed. All these years, she was a force to be reckoned with yet in this moment a feather weighed more.

He paddled his mom and Megan back to the mainland. The rain came down fiercely as they tied the boat to the pier. They scrambled to get inside the house. He gently laid his mother on her rose comforter. Megan combed her hair before kissing her forehead.

“I love you Grandma.”

During dinner, Megan looked out the window. “Dad, the island is gone”

“What?” He ran outside and just as Megan had said the dark sea stretched for miles with no land in sight.

first draft..

letter-c day 41

I wasn’t going to let letter-c creep into my mind today. It’s been 365 days since Johhny was stolen from us all.  Just so we understand each other, cancer you’re nothing more than inconvenience in the grand scheme. It’s not like I’ll let cancer have the power to end my life. My goal is to be a centaurion. I will not settle for anything less. I’ve beeen molested, beaten by parents, beaten by my first husband, verbally abused, and heartbroken with the loss of my grandchildren,   Cancer, nothing you can do to me will ever hurt as much as losing my grandbabies.

Samantha (2005) , Logan, (2008) and Johnny (2019) No one should ever have to bury their babies. No mom should ever see her babies make funeral arrangements for their babies.

My song today is the song played at Johnny’s funeral. He realy liked this song.



It hurts too much.


I hope you find everything you need Johnny where you are.





Haiku Evolution

Perfection dismissed

Seeking new aspirations

Funerals in myth©️

My two haikus today evolved…

Invited to die

Depths by determined inches

Only stagnation ©️


Invited to die

Death by determined inches

Funerals in myth ©️

Life at its core

I tried to process my grief in poetry. It was easier at first with haikus. I couldn’t focus on anything. All I saw was my baby crumbling because his baby, his precious son was dead. There’s no greater anguish in life as a Mom than not being able to protect your child from unbearable pain. I tucked my own pain away until I could process it as I do best in poetry.


Magnitudes beyond

Dismantled ruminations

Tickled pink sorrow


Corpulent spirals

Reverberated silent

Rapturous horrors


Quietus be damned

Soporific prophecy

Accolades revoked



A blooming life

It is not a sweet budding rose

Or blooms oozing blood

It is not petals of withered love

Or stifled blooms gasping

It is not a mere passage

Or cracks of blooming suspense

It is not a promised bouquet

Or a requiem symbolizing regrowth

It is not a forever perennial

Or a blooming happy ever after fairy tale

But it is our budding rosy story

Filled with daily anguished decay.


October 15, 2005-July 1, 2019

We love you ❤️


Rapturous visions

Suspended revelations

Accolades denied


Love, Gramma and Grandpa



Quote and Poem

“People are like stained – glass windows. They sparkle and shine when the sun is out, but when the darkness sets in, their true beauty is revealed only if there is a light from within. ” ~ Elisabeth Kubler-Ross




Loneliness struck at the oddest times.
I caressed a rose in the garden today.
My heart clenched like back then, startled by the chime
when I saw you holding my first bouquet.
Our lives always felt like they turned on a dime
but then harsh realities pulled us astray.

Tears roll down my face as one memory hit
home, so long ago I hate to admit it.

Loneliness and melancholy of times past
when adventures took us to crazy places.
Laughing back then, never thought it wouldn’t last.
The chimes rang to remind me of embraces.

My tear streaked face haunted with if only we
could turn time back to when it was you and me.© Lyn Crain


letter-c day 40




Bok choy, shiitake mushrooms, scallions and freshly minced ginger and garlic sauteed a couple of minutes in sesame oil before adding a tablespoon of talini and 1 tablespoon of water. The recipe did call for 2 tablespoons of water but with as wet as the bok choy was I chose not to add more liquids. That ended up being a wise decision because there was still alot in the pan when it was done. You can’t cook it down because you overcook the veggies and defeat the purpose. My husband isn’t a fan of bok choy but said this was really good. I agree very tasty and a healthy addition to my cancer fighting menu.

Since we’re on the culinary aspect of this blog, I’ll continue with three more food tools to add to your repertoire.

Bay leaves are a digestive aid. But did you know they help with abdominal cramps and gas because they soothe the digestive tract.

Beans and lentils are anti-inflammatory. They’re great for lowering your risk of breast and colon cancer. The high fiber content helps control blood sugar and flushes toxins from our bodies. That’s a win in my opinion.

Beets are also anti-inflammatory. The spectacular red color comes from the phytochemical betacyanin which along with beets fiber helps fight colon cancer and is a great toxin cleanser.

Our cells do need help getting rid of toxins and beets, beans and bay leaves are all very helpful in that regard.

Reading and Writing:

I started Steering the Craft by Ursula Le Guin this morning in addition to reading diyMFA. I need my stimuli to come from multiple directions.

I added a vignette based on a writing exercise in Le Guin’sbook. I wrote a couple of paragraphs with the photo about it not being to soon to hang Halloween. ( It’s Vic and my wedding anniversary, too!) I wrote a poem looking at Paul’s spectacular photograph of a white rose. I’m not disappointed with my attempts, looking forward to continuing working on the vignettes tonight with our writing accountability group. Today was definitely filled with visual inspirations on wordpress.


Dad shared a picture of your little brother at work with him. Jacob doesn’t have your desire to learn like you did at that age.

Tomorrow, it will be a year since you left us. If only we could turn back time and that day didn’t happen. You’re loved and missed so very much, Johnny. It’s going to be so hard for everyone tomorrow when all the pictures on Facebook of you come up as memories. I’m dreading the onslaught as I’m sure your parents are.

Robert Louis Stevenson said it best, “Life is not a matter of holding good cards but of playing a poor hand well.” We’ll do our best to play that poor hand we were given with your death.  Which brings me to my song for today. Gordon Lightfoot, If You Could Read My Mind. What a tale our thoughts could tell. I’ll never be the same. We’ll never be the same. We never want to read this book of life again because it’s just to hard to take. We can’t read between the lines, we tried so many times but nothing brought you back to us. None of us get it. Why are you dead? You were only 13.




“If you could read my mind love
What a tale my thoughts could tell
Just like an old time movie
About a ghost from a wishing well
In a castle dark or a fortress strong
With chains upon my feet
You know that ghost is me
And I will never be set free
As long as I’m a ghost you can see
If I could read your mind love
What a tale your thoughts could tell
Just like a paperback novel
The kind the drugstore sells
When you reach the part where the heartaches
Come the hero would be me
Heroes often fail
And you won’t read that book again
Because the ending’s just too hard to take. ” Gordon Lightfoot


source: Cancer Fighting Kitchen by Rebecca Katz and Mat Edelson