#FWF Free Write Friday: Word Bank …

Welcome to another #Free Write Friday exercise from Kellie Elmore.

This time Kellie provided a bank of words. We could either integrate all into our free writing or select one and work with it.

Lazy … rain … perspective … glint … sombre … trinket … static

I enjoyed the challenge of using them all. 🙂

And I will be honest … I edited a little at the end, but the essence is pure FWF. 😉

Happy reading!


RainPenelope was feeling lazy. A glimpse at her old alarm clock (you know the kind — brass with hands that point at numbers and an alarm bell stationed on top) told her it had just turned 8:45 a.m.. She yawned and stretched and sank her head deeper into the down pillow beneath it, and closed her eyes. Penelope loved the sound of the rain against the window pane, a sound which always seemed amplified when she stared into her eyelids. She wasn’t particularly fond of the grey-coloured sky. How could the steady sound of cleansing rain feel so soothing while the dark, ominous clouds from which it descended weigh so claustrophobic? She sighed. It was all a matter of perspective, of course. Some people hated everything about rain but she, somehow, was able to see the bright side of it. Rain quenched the thirst of flowers, and flowers were beautiful. Besides, a break in the deluge and a gap in the clouds always offered a glint of hope for sunnier times to come. Flowers needed sun too. It was a balance. There had to be balance. Too much or too little of anything led to heartache. Heartache led to a sombre outlook on life. Penelope could never tolerate such a state. She opened her eyes and reached to feel her favourite Labradorite pendant attached to a silver chain around her neck. It was more a charm than a trinket, for it reminded her that though the perspective of her life might shift depending on the play of light and shadow, her essence, like the shimmering layers of this beautiful irridescent stone she loved, remained constant, but never static. There was a difference.



Thanks for visiting …

Dorothy 🙂


Copyright Aimwell CreativeWorks 2013

Free Write Friday: It was a dark and stormy night …

This is my first attempt at Kellie Ellmore’s Free Write Friday exercise.

Anything could happen.

No editing.

Here goes …

Stormy Night

It was a dark and stormy night. So I made chicken soup. Warm. Comforting. Soothinng. The sting of the darkness tempered by the comforts of broth. Easing my mind. Consoling my body. A flash of lightning. A burst of rain. Then falling down my window pane. Torrential, as the soup floods my rumbling stomach the waters soak the dry earth. Refreshed; revitalized; repaired. Another crash of thunder and my black cat stretches and yawns. Such a bore, the storm, he purrs. He seeks out his fluffy mouse and bats it mercilessly across the tile floor. A flash illuminates. The mouse is launched. The cat lunges. I laugh. The storm a backdrop, not a player. A game changer? A wake-up call? Isn’t that what the storms of life teach us? Get our attention? Wake-up! Wake-up lest you drown in a flood of your own tears …


Thanks for your indulgence …

Dorothy 🙂


Copyright Aimwell CreativeWorks 2013

I Am

Making Tracks

The Shadow’s my companion, but it is not who I am.

Through the process of healing, together we walk.

A light shines on our mutual pain; the pain is defused.

Revealed for what it is, the dark place begins to lose its power.

It no longer overwhelms.

The victim is no more.

With this release a voice of strength emerges, but no longer asks:

“Why me?”

It is simply enough to know that

I am.


Thanks for visiting …

Dorothy 🙂


Copyright Aimwell CreativeWorks 2013

Wake Up!

Most of my recent poetry is about the journey to Self-Awareness.

For a long time I lived the debilitating, fearful, exhausting life of the victim and survivor.

A series of wake-up calls over several years gently nudged me into a new reality, telling me there was more to life than had been my illusion.

So, one day I finally pulled up my socks, strapped on some sturdy shoes, reached deep inside to locate whatever remained of trust and started, with help, down the road to
my truth and personal freedom.

And what a journey it has been so far …


Wake Up!

For many years I had no choice,

I only heard another’s voice.

Another’s thoughts had formed my world;

Into their fetid vortex hurled.

Flailing, fighting every day

I tried to live in my own way,

But had no strength to be myself,

So sat, invisible, ‘pon the shelf.

And then, one day, awoke, did I,

To who I’d been, did say “Bye bye!”

Flung out the detritus of life;

Sub-conscious sources of toil and strife.

De-hypnotized old patterns deep,

To climb a learning curve so steep …

Just who am I? Why am I here?

Deep questions full of faith and fear.

But ask I must, and answer, too,

If I to my own self be true.


Thanks for visiting.

Dorothy 🙂


Copyright Aimwell CreativeWorks 2012

Hidden Treasure

I’m on a journey of self-discovery and, with help, am uncovering all kinds of buried treasure locked away in a safe place within just waiting for me to find it … when I’m ready.

Being a gal in her middle years, it’s good to know life still holds some mystery … and isn’t all misery.


Hidden Treasure

Hidden treasure

Lies beneath

A tide of emotion;

An ocean of grief

Filled with the

Detritus drama

Of souls who


Live and obscure

Others’ goals.


Cleansing the

Waters of life

Takes some

Time while I

Lovingly search

For my treasure

Divine. It’s lying

There buried,

Awaiting release

From a watery

Tomb where there

Is no increase.


Thanks for visiting …

Dorothy 🙂


Copyright Aimwell CreativeWorks 2012

Cosmic Blip

We all have our place in the cosmos. And be assured … it is significant …

Cosmic Blip

As I change and

Rearrange my life

It seems to me,

That there is

Really no one

Else I would

Rather be.

Okay, life isn’t

Perfect; my trials

Have been tough,

But they have

Made me who

I am, and


That’s enough.

I’ve seen my


Yet I know that

I can grow. The

Sky perchance

The limit, and so

To the stars

I go. The sun

Shines boldly

As I soar, my

Heart begins

To race, but

Not from fear

Of what’s

Gone by, no

Forward to

The chase! Dear

Venus wraps

Her arms around

Me, showers me

With love, and

Mars his sword

Tips to the

Earth as peaceful

As the dove. And

To the stars I

Further fly,

And Earth

Becomes so

Small I realize

My presence is

A blip on

Cosmic wall.


Thanks for visiting …

Dorothy 🙂

Copyright Aimwell Enterprises 2012

Still … again

Evidently, in spite of my best efforts, I have not been still enough. A month of family commitments and celebrations combined with my carefully managed every day activity finally caught up with me on Monday morning, and I was forcibly, and unpleasantly, incapacitated for 16 hours.

The image depicts my beautiful Oskar, who sadly left us last year, and reminds me to be still.

I turn to my old cats for lessons in stillness. Cats are very good at being still … for hours. When I sit in my chair in the evening, recovering from the day’s activities, my little black cat jumps into my lap, curls up and stays there … all evening … only moving if I dare to and then slotting herself back into her warm and rightful place once I have resettled myself.

I’ve had a winter of this, and while I feel I’ve turned a corner in my overall recovery from adrenal fatigue I can see that quiet evenings will continue for a while yet.

This poem reflects a similar previous posting. I don’t want this to be an ongoing theme but it is what it is for now.

I surrender …

Be well,

Dorothy 🙂


Still … again

“You do too much!”

You say to me.

Sweep my legs.

Render me gravely


For as long as

It takes.

In my chair

Forcibly grounded.



You win …


Copyright Aimwell Enterprises 2012

Angel Song … The Healing Glory of Beautiful Music

Music has always been an important part of my life.

I grew up in a home filled with beautiful music. My mother, a classically trained singer and single-mother of two with a career based in England, brought home the bacon by performing and recording opera on the international stage. Her music life was bound to influence me and, most certainly, it has.

My own musical expression first found an outlet through choral singing, and culminated in a 12-season stint (and we had to re-audition every year) as a soprano in Canada’s oldest and most prestigious symphonic choral organization, the Toronto Mendelssohn Choir. With 180 voices it was, and still is, the country’s largest choir. Singing among its many accomplished amateur and professional singers, I revelled in being part of something so larger-than-life. Part of the mystique for me was the notion that we were all of such diverse backgrounds and yet could put our differences aside and come together to create incredibly embracing and beautiful sound. The glory of music joined us as one for an experience that was large and soul-restoring, not just for us but the audience who came to listen.

In fact, I’ll never forget the first down beat at the first rehearsal I attended. Elmer Iseler, an iconic character in Canadian choral music for decades and the choir’s resident conductor, led us in for the national anthem. The ensuing wall of sound overwhelmed me such that for a moment I couldn’t bring myself to sing. It was as if in that moment I was cleansed of my worldly cares and the shock of my new spiritual nakedness had left me breathless. Then reality set in as we set sail on the horrendously difficult Bach Magnificat. I had never seen, or sung, so many notes in my life!

During my years with the choir I had the privilege of singing Handel’s Messiah (more than 50 times,) Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony, the Brahm’s Requiem, Walton’s Belshazzar’s Feast, Verdi’s Requiem, to name only a few.

We also performed myriad a cappella pieces. The purity of the human voice on its own in harmonic line and dissonance is, perhaps, the most sublime musical experience of all. Everything from Canadian R. Murray Schafer’s avant garde “Sun” to Henry Purcell’s reverent “Hear My Prayer, O Lord” to Morten Lauridsen’s mysterious “O Magnum Mysterium” launched my spirit to heights that can only be felt through experiencing the happy confluence of inspired composition, haunting vocal intonation and glorious sound. It is healing, perhaps, in a way nothing else can be.

All of which led me to write this poem.

Angel Song

Echo thou soft angelic song

Through hallowed halls

And wend thy wistful way

O’er hearts deep bruised

This mortal day.

Veil fresh-fallen tears

Of the world-sick soul

With heaven’s healing balm.

Salve the spirit, elixir of calm.


Though I left the choir in 2001 to pursue other musical interests, my love for choral music remains and finds release through attending Mendelssohn Choir concerts and listening to favoured choral recordings.

One of my favourite modern choral composers is American, Eric Whitacre.

In 2010, Whitacre undertook a unique project to form a 185-voice international virtual choir. The resultant recording of his luscious and moving “Lux Aurumque” was posted to YouTube and went viral.  As I listen and watch this musical cyber miracle it reminds me of all the magical hours I spent singing in one of the world’s great choirs and the unifying and healing force of great music.

In case you haven’t experienced Whitacre’s incredible virtual choir masterpiece I’ve added a link — click ” here.”

Yours in music …

Be well …


Copyright Aimwell Enterprises 2012