TikTok (Mad Monday)

Well I have to admit [again] I haven’t been very productive as a writer lately; well not in a creative capacity.

I could blame it on the move after selling our fishing shack in Port Lavaca.

I can blame it on the new pups our daughter gave us.

I do blame it on a lot of things, heck the heat here in Texas by itself is an acceptable excuse [and I have lots of excuses] but the truth is…

in my spare time …

I’ve been TikTok’ing.

I know!!! Oh the shock!! The shame!!

I stay up late nearly every blasted night gobbling up this stuff like a big man eating biscuits and gravy.

Some of you know my TikTok account has been deleted more than once but I keep going back.

Hardheaded?? Opinionated? Determined?

All of the above.

But this time I am curbing my enthusiasm.

This time The Real Janna Hill has learned a lesson or two.

So hopefully TikTok won’t put me in time out or evict me again; after all my demeanor is milder now – not so anti ______ – not so confrontational – not so spicy.

Yeah I’m more like a lovely bowl of covert cold oatmeal – with an agenda nothing but optimism.

HaPpY Tuesday y’all.

😉

TikTok.

Little Man (In Memoriam)

Sending love and gratitude on this Memorial Day. I pray you feel it in the wind.


It’s time to go to bed little man

Cover up your head little man

I’ll see you when the sun breaks in the morn.

Say your prayers and close your eyes,

I’ve locked the monsters all outside,

She’d sang those words to him since he was born.

He grew to be a brave young lad

And followed after his ole dad

Beneath a flag of pride his oath was sworn.

They brought him home in silk lined wood,

And all around him soldiers stood,

While Butterfield’s Lullaby played on the horn.

It’s time to go ahead little man,

I know that you weren’t scared little man,

My heart breaks I can’t see you and I mourn.

I’ve said my prayers for your closed eyes, 

I’ve tucked my feelings deep inside… She sang into a folded flag of thorns.

Little Man was taken from Getting Me Back (The Voices Within)

The tears of mother’s could create a flood if they all cried at once.

Fearless ( Pondering & #NPM )

I thought a lot about yesterday’s post; about the disciples and about believing and courage. And I remembered a poem written decades ago.

I do not claim to be bold and my beliefs have (more than once) been shaken.

I am not holy, hell I am not even considered a good Christian by many standards. I do not attend “church” nor belong to any denomination. I try to do as I should but y’all I sin every day. Every day! But don’t worry, me and The Lord have a relationship. We’re good. 👌🏼

I think I have always aspired to be a soldier, a Christian soldier and the poem written decades ago made me remember that.

Remember April is National Poetry Month.

Poem from Getting me Back (The Voices Within)

IWD (Inter-national)

Happy Monday world!

Today is International Women’s Day.

Inter-national.

So here’s to women all over the world, cheers 🥂.

Sadly, a lot of women don’t have the luxury of “celebrating” #IWD2021; many do not have the privilege of internet access to participate much less promote.

Let us remember those women. 🙏🏼

I visited the IWD website and copied the below questions/challenges.

“How will you help forge a gender equal world?
Celebrate women’s achievement. Raise awareness against bias. Take action for equality.

So, what will I do for #IWD2021?

Personally, I am just going to keep chasing my dreams, standing up for what I believe and being me.

That in itself is a challenge… and an achievement.

And, I will share this poem which was inspired by a matriarch I once had the pleasure of knowing.

Women’s Liberation 

We did not burn our bras but wore them proudly
Holding–supporting–glorifying the mammary glands that would feed the next generation
For the hand that rocks the cradle rules the world.
We did not give animated voices to our vaginas for the world to hear
but let them speak in secret whispers that moved mountains.
We did not make a spectacle in the streets to prove our equality
For we knew in our hearts [already] that we were superior.

Page 235 from Getting Me Back

And a Happy December Solstice to You (The Long Long Night)

Ah, the December Solstice.

Those of you in the Southern Hemisphere are (hopefully) enjoying summer while us folks in the Northern Hemisphere are entering winter and the longest night of the year.

Though it is the Northern influence that spawned The Long Long Night, I wish you all a happy December solstice and warm poetic evening.

so without further adieu I give to you …

The Long Long Night

He would sculpt and I would write to get us through this thing called life – what seemed to be an aimless plight

The long, long night

I used pen and he used clay to cope with all the pain filled days which lived within our slow decay of

The long, long night

But in between the words and mud we found the art of making love and pacified the angst and blood of

The long, long night

Forsaken pages ripped and torn, spattered earth across the floor, graphite tales of love and war and

The long, long night

Come into my bed sweet angry lover, your tender calloused hands beneath the cover.

Find the place where none has been, beneath the ink and turning pin, get us through yet once again

The long, long night

The Long Long Night was torn from the pages of Getting Me Back ( The Voices Within) available at your favorite eBook retailer.

Pondering and Painting

Painting is a lot like story telling. Some would say it is the same. I, personally see a few differences- but only a few. What I have learned is that with both you start out with an idea and an outline and then the darn thing takes on a life of it’s own.

I have no idea where this is going.

And this too is true for both, some blossom and go forth to see the world while others (despite your vision) fail to bloom – these gather forgotten dust or must [sometimes begrudgingly] be destroyed.

Round Here

You can’t quite tell it (unless you can smell it) `round here but Autumn has officially arrived.

It’s a balmy 95 degrees today. I have the shades drawn, the AC turned down to 70 degrees Fahrenheit and some sort of orange-cinnamon-pumpkin-fake-cake concoction baking into thin air.

Lord why don’t they make a more comforting smell to compliment fall? Why?! I can hear the atoms colliding in the space around me! Why is this room spinning faster than the earth?

Whew! I don’t know why I’m in such a state. Maybe it’s the fake cake that’s baking. Maybe my hands cramp too much for typing. Maybe I need another nap?

Maybe? The truth is I am rather erratic today and maybe I lied. I suspect I’m in such a state because…

Well… You see…

Deep breath and confess.

I’m nursing a hangover. A post bachelorette weekend party hangover but I can explain.

You see we went to this place and had some drinks…

And then some more places and some more drinks…

I couldn’t stop `em, the girls and the drinks just kept coming…

And then…

Hmm. I don’t remember much after that but I hear we had fun. 😉

I know! What the heck?! I must be insane, mad as a hatter to party like that at my age but you know what? I do not regret it. Not even if an unknown photo surfaces. Not even with a hangover. And you know why?

It was a great way to end the summer but most importantly …

sniff, sniff. I wish I felt well enough to write 1000 words.

Because the bachelorette just happens to be my baby girl and I will never [never ever never] be too old nor will I grow too weary to make memories with that beautiful soul.