Blog Archives

ANNOUNCING SPOTLIGHT OPPORTUNITIES YOU NEED TO KNOW ABOUT!

Are you interested in reaching a new audience?

I’m looking for blogs, poems, photos, artwork, short stories, even a web series that would appeal to my readers.

The submissions should not be promotional links for your books/work/sites, and I’m not looking for anything that is too graphic. I prefer posts that enlighten, help, and inspire with focus on recovery, coping, healing, and evolving. Pure entertainment is wonderful, too! Humor is much needed and appreciated, as are joyous wonders of the world in art form. Work published on another site is fine as long as it’s your original work, and you have properly edited any text.

Contact me first to discuss whether your contributions would be a good fit. I am particularly interested in people who would like guest posters for their own site, so we can exchange. It’s not necessary, but that’s something I’m definitely willing to do.

If you become a regular contributor, you will get your own tab under the guest post menu, so that readers can find all your posts in one place. A little further down the road, I’ll have a contributor tab where regular contributors can have a more detailed profile, and that’s where their promotional and social media links would appear. They will also be eligible for ‘spotlight features’ where they can do an interview (audio, text, or video), read an excerpt, or something along those lines. A link to that feature would be on their contributor page.

If we determine that we can work together, this is how it would go.

When you create a blog you think I’d like to share, send me a link. If you want to share photos or poetry, just get them up on WordPress, Blogger, or your website.

I would need a bio and photo of you. If you prefer not to have an image of you, it can be a trademark or something else associated with you or your work. You won’t have to submit the bio or photo for subsequent posts unless you want to update it.

A feature photo to accompany the work is highly recommended either included on the blog or sent as a separate attachment. You must also provide the source for your feature photo so that we can give proper credit to the artist or photographer. If you are the artist or photographer, indicate that. If you are not sure where to find photos you can use legally with proper attribution, I can recommend a couple of sites.

If you have preferred hashtags for sharing, please provide them, or I will tag accordingly.

The posts will go up on my website under the ‘guest post’ tab. I would copy any text and then link back to the original blog in the copyright notice, which will be in your name, appearing before your photo and bio. I’ll send you the link to your post, and you’d have a chance to request any changes or even change your mind. Once you give your seal of approval, I’ll share it on Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, Google+, and possibly LinkedIn or Pinterest.

There may be a cutoff period for this offer, depending on the level of interest and my availability, but the posts would likely remain unless you request their removal.

Lastly, I would like to mention that I have created a private community for interesting discussions, exchanging ideas, and supporting others. It would fit in with the community/collaboration environment and could be a lot of fun. If you are interested in that, let me know. I’m thinking about adding a portal to that site on my website for easy access. It’s all about community!

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Photo by BK, original photo credit Jonathan Combe

© Copyright June 26, 2016 by Kyrian Lyndon at kyrianlyndon.com. All rights reserved. No reproduction permitted without permission.

BEFORE YOU FORGET AGAIN: YOU ARE AN AMAZING TRIUMPH!

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The robin in your tender heart
Hungers for the red berry
That titillates your tongue.
She carols as the snow falls—
And not with the chorus of the dawn
In radiant spring.
What might have been?
Your voice silenced,
The spirit of you
Destroyed,
I see glimpses of your fire
From the light that has vanished
From your eyes.

Your wings soar,
Only not to follow
Your heart.
And your heart is that of
A child,
Deeply vulnerable,
Precious,
So sensitive,
And sweet.
You inspire me
To change my perspective
With your unique vision
Of the world.
You shine with your brilliance,
And you don’t know.
Your bursts of laughter
Make me smile.
As always, you are the light
In my darkness;
Your spirit is the fire I feel
In the sun’s warmth.
You were the dawn of my awakening,
And the splendor of my dreams.

And I have cried
For your heart
More than I have ever cried
For my own.
I am torn apart by
The intensity of your pain.
It is profound sadness
I feel,
When I think I’ve reached you
And then hit another wall…
Hard.

I fear losing you forever
To your grief,
As I grieve, too,
For the subtleties
And cues
You don’t understand.
Avoiding the eyes of others …
Your intense frustration
In trying to get it right,
And thinking you have it all wrong.

You have it right,
So right—
Always did,
Always will.
I only wish you could know
The joy
Of being free.

The tentative smiles,
The looks of uncertainty,
Prompt me to tell you,
You got this.
You’ll be fine.
Whatever the passion,
Let it burn.
It will save you.

Retrieve every shattered fragment
Of your soul.

Accept it,
Embrace it,
Bless it with your peace.
Give it mighty and glorious wings,
And let it fly where it leads
Without fear,
Into the twilight of an infinite sky.

Be happy,
Shine,
Glow.
Love,
Dance,
Sing.
Celebrate yourself
And don’t stop singing
Your life’s song.
The song is your vision,
Your passion;
It belongs to you.
Without it,
You wither and die.

Don’t you, for one moment,
Let anyone crush your beautiful spirit.

Know, too, those who have crushed you
Have been crushed.
Those who pain you have been pained.
Still, you can rise again,
Become completely alive again
And shine on,
Just as you did before all the hurt began.

You are not defective,
My dear one,
Not a burden,
Nor do you struggle alone.
I’m here with you.
I will always be with you.
You are
In every way
Beautiful.
Though you don’t see that,
And you never have.
I just love you.

Feature photo by Amy Treasure

© Copyright October 9, 2016 by Kyrian Lyndon at kyrianlyndon.com. All rights reserved. No reproduction permitted without permission.

SHE STOOD ALONE ON THE EDGE OF DARKNESS

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Through forests of emerald-green bliss,
She pranced,
Embracing the colors of endless play—
The rainbows of summer.
She was a child of the earth.

Her tiny voice sang,
And she danced!
No danger lurked in her twinkling eyes.
Everything in her fearless laughter
Was colored with mirth.

She built castles on the shore
By a peaceful and provident sea
That was never foreboding.
She skipped beneath the golden clouds
Like the world belonged to her,
As if there were no cares
And all who loved her
Would keep her safe.

“Do not lose her,” I said.
“Do not lose that child.
She needs you so desperately.”

And then she had this grave fear of the sea,
This somber foreboding.
It seemed so vast and so deep
From the shore,
A leviathan-green, hellish monstrosity
Full of strange creatures that devoured things.
It was all that lay between her
And some faraway place
On the other side of the globe.

Somehow, it was not so frightening now.
Neither was the past,
The present,
Or all the future obscurities—
Not even those people she once had cherished.

The peace of the waters subdued her now,
As she listened to the thrash of the waves.
She was just playing with a stick in the sand.

There was a noted ambiguity
Whenever she spoke of this place.
Certain moments when she embraced the glorious light
And gazed intently into the darkness.
There were moments, too,
When she felt it creep and crawl around her,
When she ached and trembled,
Longing to free herself from its grip.

While seething within,
She wore the mask of kindness,
Harmless and alluring,
With resentment like hemlock,
Beautiful yet wilting,
Glowing yet tarnished,
Beckoning,
Flourishing,
Standing tall,
And unyielding…
Toxic to all
In her flowering beauty.

The sun was setting,
Salmon clouds under a sky of dodger blue,
Flocks of geese
On a sprawling lawn.
A waxing gibbous moon
Beckoned
Like she needed a guide,
A divine light.

“Come forth,” it said.
“Come home.”
And some of the fear waned
As she went forth,
But nothing really changed.

She stood alone on the edge,
In darkness,
A faint silhouette
Gazing at the night sky.
Rain fell,
A sprinkler to the trees
Thrashing in the wind.

She would flee,
Abandoning places,
Suddenly unrecognizable faces.
The glowing sun of Helios
Was a beacon
For eternal bliss,
Yet deceiving.

The caves beckoned.
Every corner,
Every crevice,
Held its own mystery,
Its truth.

Still the perilous journey
Was madness—
Pretty colors and then
Darkness.
It seemed to have no end.

She heard a child crying,
A child from long ago,
A prisoner of her soul.

Stone walls around her,
Hissing sounds,
Deep, treacherous waters—
Her mind was a fractured maze.
No one could see.
No one could hear.
No safe place to run,
She had to find the way
Out…
Home…

Every stone that healed
Brought her closer to
The truth,
The light.

The climb was steep,
But she held on,
Clawing her way
In blindness,
Accepting,
Facing,
Grieving.

Raindrops glistened on the rocks.
Flower petals littered
The wet grass.
She saw vibrant orchids
In the fading light of the moon,
And, alas,
Tranquil waters glistened
Aqua blue.

Like the ancient alchemical goddess,
She was crowned—
A newborn only beginning
To awaken,
Beginning to see,
Her soul bursting
With bliss.

The beauty within
Became the beauty
Eyes could see,
Not perfection—
Courage, perhaps…
Determination,
Defiance,
And love.

She was free.
No jewel could sparkle with
More radiance,
And the years could not tarnish its shine.

From Remnants of Severed Chains © Copyright October 17, 2015 by Kyrian Lyndon at kyrianlyndon.com. All rights reserved. No reproduction permitted without permission.

VALENTINE’S DAY — A BEAUTIFUL TRIUMPH FOR LOVE

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I always made jokes about Valentine’s Day. Aside from getting heart-shaped boxes of chocolate in scarlet red, what could you do on Valentine’s Day that you couldn’t do any other day?

Then again, it sort of celebrates love, and while you can celebrate love every day, and I do, what’s wrong with another excuse to get all mushy and sweet? Besides, life becomes more and more precious, along with every good thing in it, so bring it on.

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Let’s start with music. I put together my first YouTube playlist (took forever), and these are some of my picks for the most beautiful, most romantic songs of all time. It was a labor of love for me. If I couldn’t get paid to write all day, I’d love to get paid for listening to music.

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Click the menu (those three little lines in the upper left corner) to see the list. I could have added more songs, but I know you don’t have all day. Or do you? 😉

Please feel free to make suggestions, too, in the comment box here or on Facebook where the post appears.

And, of course, words without music can be beautiful, too.

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I’ll include some poetry at the end, but what about books or movies that are perfect for the occasion? Here’s my list but, again, please feel free to make suggestions.

Wuthering Heights
Casablanca
Gone with the Wind
Sleepless in Seattle
Pride and Prejudice
Dirty Dancing
Breakfast at Tiffany’s
Love Story
Ghost
His Girl Friday
An Affair to Remember
Singing in the Rain
Last Tango in Paris
Mahogany
Love & Basketball
Bonnie and Clyde
Cyrano de Bergerac
Lady Chatterley’s Lover
Anna Karenina
A Tale of Two Cities
Rebecca
The Count of Monte Cristo

 

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“Love has no desire but to fulfill itself. To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night. To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving.”―Khalil Gibran

“Absence diminishes small loves and increases great ones, as the wind blows out the candle and fans the bonfire.”―François VI de la Rochefoucault

“How did it happen that their lips came together? How does it happen that birds sing, that snow melts, that the rose unfolds, that the dawn whitens behind the stark shapes of trees on the quivering summit of the hill? A kiss, and all was said.”―Victor Hugo

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“If I had a flower for every time I thought of you … I could walk through my garden forever.”― Alfred Tennyson

“Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don’t know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings.” ― Anaïs Nin

“The very first moment I beheld him, my heart was irrevocably gone.”― Jane Austen, Love and Friendship

“Thus with a kiss I die.”―William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

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Yummly Valentine’s Day Dinner Ideas
Romantic Dinners for Two
Date Night Dinner Recipes
Incredible Chocolate Dessert Recipes

Happy Home Fairy’s Fun Games to Play for Valentine’s Day
Kids Cooking Valentine’s Day Recipes

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© Copyright February 12, 2015 by Kyrian Lyndon at kyrianlyndon.com. All rights reserved. No reproduction permitted without permission.

REMNANTS OF SEVERED CHAINS WORLDWIDE RELEASE

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I am excited to announce the release of my second book, Remnants of Severed Chains, a Kindle ebook bestseller in Women’s Poetry on Amazon.

As previously revealed in the cover launch, here is the book’s official description:

Remnants of Severed Chains is a collection of over forty new poems by Kyrian Lyndon, author of A Dark Rose Blooms. This book continues with the same intensity as A Dark Rose, running the gamut of complex emotions that resonate with many. The author explains in the book’s preface that Remnants is about the process of healing and recovery, the willingness to learn and evolve. Thus, she embraces life’s astounding and most personal revelations—afflictions, addictions and relationships, the good and the bad, capturing life’s most devastating moments along with its celebratory moments of beauty and joy. Kyrian’s exceptional handling of language to create vivid images has won her high praise. Rest assured, Remnants of Severed Chains is a uniquely moving experience that readers will enjoy.

In case you missed it, the mesmerizing cover design is by Jah Kaine via jerboa Design Studio.com.

I’ll include the links to buy the book here, and then I’ll tell you how you can win a free copy and other prizes.

Purchase on Amazon.com

Purchase on Amazon.uk

Purchase on Smashwords.com

Purchase at Barnes and Noble

To enter my prize giveaway, leave a comment on this blog. If you’re not able to leave a comment here for whatever reason, leave it on the Facebook author page post about this release.

To increase your chance of winning, you can do any or all of the following:

Subscribe to my newsletter using the form on this page
Subscribe to my blog (scroll down the home page on this site for form)
Like my Facebook author page.
Follow me on Twitter. (I will follow back.)
If you like a particular poem of mine , let me know.
Tell me one thing about YOU, i.e., your favorite book or poet, your favorite show or movie, what you love more than anything, what you’re ultimate goal or biggest dream is…

Please let me know in the comment you post, what you subscribed to/liked even if you did that before reading this blog.

I provided all the links to help you above, but if you have questions/problems subscribing, etc., message me, and I’ll help.

Prizes include:

Print and Kindle versions of Remnants of Severed Chains, t-shirts, bookmarks, gift cards, and books by other authors including:

Paul J. Hoffman’s true crime novel Murder in Wauwatosa: The Mysterious Death of Buddy Schumacher and

The Sockkids Help Ben Franklin by Michael John Sullivan.

I just got word, too, that author Laurie Kozlowski would be happy to send these titles to any winners of the giveaway:

The Broken Collection (2 books) by Rachel Thompson
Dying Dreams by Katharine Sadler
Tennessee Waltz (3 book series) by Bella Street
Serendipity Summer by Laurie Kozlowski

Those are some great books, and I am honored to include them all. Thank you Mike, Laurie, and Paul!

If you’re an author, and you’d like to be part of the giveaway, let me know, and I will add you to the list. You can donate your book after we announce the winners.

Thanks for participating. Have fun!

© Copyright October 17, 2015 by Kyrian Lyndon at kyrianlyndon.com. All rights reserved. No reproduction permitted without permission.

REMNANTS OF SEVERED CHAINS COVER REVEAL

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I am thrilled to unveil the cover of my  latest poetry book, Remnants of Severed Chains, which is due out in less than two weeks.

The amazing cover design is by Jah Kaine via jerboa Design Studio.com.

Here is the book’s official description:

Remnants of Severed Chains is a collection of over forty new poems by Kyrian Lyndon, author of A Dark Rose Blooms. This book continues with the same intensity as A Dark Rose, running the gamut of complex emotions that resonate with many. The author explains in the book’s preface that Remnants is about the process of healing and recovery, the willingness to learn and evolve. Thus, she embraces life’s astounding and most personal revelations—afflictions, addictions and relationships, the good and the bad, capturing life’s most devastating moments along with its celebratory moments of beauty and joy.

In the poem “What Might Have Been”, she writes:

The robin in your tender heart
Hungers for the red berry
That titillates your tongue.
She carols as the snow falls—
And not with the chorus of the dawn
In radiant spring.
What might have been?
Your voice silenced,
The spirit of you
Destroyed,
I see glimpses of your fire
From the light that has vanished
From your eyes.
Your wings soar,
Only not to follow
Your heart.
Whatever the passion,
Let it burn.
It will save you.

Kyrian’s exceptional handling of language to create vivid images has won her high praise. Rest assured, Remnants of Severed Chains is a uniquely moving experience that readers will enjoy.

Cover design by Jah Kaine via jerboa Design Studio.com

© Copyright October 12, 2015 by Kyrian Lyndon at kyrianlyndon.com. All rights reserved. No reproduction permitted without permission

AN OPEN LETTER TO YOUR INNER CHILD BY ALISON NAPI

2b6c139b3f1567f5923d6f1ab3544af0I am often in awe of beautiful things shared from the heart. This “love letter”, by Alison Napi, appeared on Rebelle Society, one of my favorite sites. It speaks to many of us, regardless of what we may believe about miracles and God. It’s worth sharing over and over. Enjoy.

An Open Letter to Your Inner Child
by Alison Napi

To the child who couldn’t understand
why nobody could understand.
To the one whose hand was never taken,
whose eyes were never gazed into by
an adult who said,
“I love you.
You are a miracle.
You are holy,
right now and
forever.”

To the one who grew up in the realm of “can’t.”
To you who lived “never enough.”
To the one who came home to no one there, and
there but not home.

To the one who could never understand why
she was being hit
by hands, words, ignorance.

To the one whose innocence was unceremoniously stolen.
To the one who fought back.
To the one who shattered.
To the never not broken one.
To the child who survived.

To the one who was told she was
sinful, bad, ugly.

To the one who didn’t fit.
To she who bucked authority
and challenged the status quo.

To the one who called out
the big people for
lying, hiding and cruelty.

To the one who never stopped loving anyway.

To the child that was forbidden to need.

To the ones whose dreams were crushed
by adults whose dreams were crushed.

To the one whose only friend
was the bursting, budding forest.
To the ones who prayed to the moon,
who sang to the stars
in the secrecy of the night
to keep the darkness at bay.

To the child who saw God
in the bursting sunshine of
dandelion heads
and the whispering
clover leaf.

To the child of light who cannot die,
even when she’s choking
in seven seas of darkness.

To the one love
I am and you are.

You are holy.
I love you.
You are a miracle.
Your life,
your feelings,
your hopes and dreams–
they matter.

Somebody failed you but you will not fail.
Somebody looked in your eyes and saw the sun — blazing — and got scared.
Somebody broke your heart but your love remains perfect.
Somebody lost their dreams and thought you should too,
but you mustn’t.

Somebody told you
that you weren’t
enough
or too much,
but you are
without question
the most perfect
and holy creation of
God’s
own
hands.

*****
{You Are Loved}

from: An Open Love Letter to Your Inner Child on Rebelle Society

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SHADOWS OF MY SOUL

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This poem was written ten years before the publication of A Dark Rose Blooms, but I included it at the beginning of the book. It’s one of my personal favorites because it’s about the tenacious human spirit and resilience, the will to get up every time, evolving, and the beauty of surrender. (I provided the text in case the podcast is not as clear as I intended.) Hope you enjoy!

SHADOWS OF MY SOUL

Reality to me is the dusk,
Prevalence in the shadows.
It is cloaking,
Grasping,
Discerning
In a world of darkness.
It is torment.
It is restraint.
The beauty of the peaceful lull amid the
Trees just before sunrise
Lies in contrast with the hazy tumult of my
Self-inflicted tomb.
I am in awe of every vision.
I bask in the passion of every caress.
Every bit of air I breathe is a godsend.
I could listen with the stillness of the ocean
Before daybreak
To the waves amid a blue-violet sky.
I could dance with flair and gaiety to the music
With a glow that illuminates me.
There is no one else I’d rather be—
Unless it were to love you.
You are all that I crave.

© Copyright March 1, 2005 by Kyrian Lyndon at kyrianlyndon.com. All rights reserved. No reproduction permitted without permission from the author.

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THE MADNESS OF POETRY

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I had sent my newly published poetry book to my friend, John, someone I have known for many years. Weeks later, I asked if he had received it, and what he thought of the book.

He responded with, “I have been rather absorbed in my own world which has been a struggle. I have been sick with walking pneumonia and yet am still working daily. I am on a bunch of medication, which doesn’t leave me with the clearest head. When not working, I am sleeping. Am slowly getting better but about four days bed rest would be ideal. I can’t afford to miss work so, you know the drill. I’m tired, sick, frustrated, but still fighting.”

He went on to explain, “Poetry has never been my strong suit. You are certainly elegant with words. I can appreciate the flowery wording but feel like I am missing something, and that applies to all poetry not just yours. I feel embarrassed to admit that it seems to have crashed over my head like a huge wave at the beach. It takes some doing to overcome the feeling that I am too dumb for this.”

John revealed more as the conversation continued. “A couple of the poems were almost frightening in their intensity. I could sense the emotion behind it, but I felt like such an outsider. Then it dawned on me; I am an outsider, but you are trying to provide a window for me. Stop feeling like a peeping tom and enjoy the view. I can so over-complicate things.”

He messaged me later with more thoughts. “I reached another realization. There was much mention of family and closeness. I realized I was somewhat jealous because my family is tiny with no closeness whatsoever. In defense against those feelings, I put up a wall against your poems. It is painful to read about something I can’t experience. I am happy you have it but sad that I don’t. As I have and accept these awakenings, I may be able to better appreciate your poetry.”

Well, here is my take on all this.

First, you learn so much from the other end of the author journey, once you have released your first book child into the world. (Yes, these books are our children. Any writer can tell you this. We give birth to them. We send them out into the world. We worry about them, protect them, defend them.)

I have had people apologize to me for not having read the book yet, although they instantly bought it to support my efforts. I get it. I buy books all the time to help the authors who wrote them, and these books sit in line for a good long time on my Kindle.

Next, you do need a clear head for reading, especially poetry. You are reading between the lines of someone else’s fleeting thoughts and trying to process their meaning.

John thought he was raining on my parade with these remarks. He wasn’t. After decades of hoarding my work, I am happy to have put myself out there. This is merely a starting point. While I have been at this long enough to feel confident that I know what I’m doing, I see no reason to expect everyone to understand and love everything I have to say. It surprises me more that so many people, including strangers, continue to tell me how much they love and enjoy the poems.

John may be someone who feels poetry is not his strong suit, yet he expressed his thoughts beautifully and while he thinks he is “too dumb,” he is rather insightful. His assessment was relevant and helpful, because he is not alone in his feelings. Most of us want to love poetry. We associate it with romance. Much of it is introspective, like glimpsing into a diary. Sometimes we get it, yes, and sometimes we don’t.

Many poets are intentionally cryptic. Others don’t intend to be vague but, as they say; poets are artists painting with words and yes, we distort everything and can make deep-wrenching heartbreak a thing of beauty.

Then there is the perception factor. This had me thinking of the time my professor in college asked our class to write an interpretation of William Butler Yeats’ The Coming of Wisdom with Time. He gave me an A on the assignment then scribbled something unsettling, in red ink, in the right margin. What he said was, “This is a wonderful explanation of what the poem meant to you, but I was asking what the poem meant to the poet.” My thought was, yeah good luck with that.

In my poetry, John got this impression of a happy family with happy memories. Others I spoke with perceived a very deep sadness. People interpret things differently. We are all in different places, consciously and subconsciously. People have misinterpreted me, just as I have misinterpreted others. The poet is not usually there to explain it to you. Poetry is about what resonates with the reader, what strikes a chord and why, be it negative or positive. It’s about stimulation of thoughts, realizations, and reflections. It is often a soul experience, triggering emotions, and it is bound to be intense.

As I stated in the book’s Preface, I wrote those poems over a few decades where my perception had gone in different directions. I wrote many of them in my twenties. I mixed the good with the bad, the light with the dark. Some things healed and resolved in the end. Some didn’t.

Shutting down is one of the responses people can have in reading (and listening). Some are discouraged by an opposing perception. It took me a long time to feel secure enough in my beliefs to listen to different opinions with an open mind, to look at things from another perspective without fear. Often I am able to understand and sometimes agree. I had to get beyond this feeling that a person could take something away from me that had no substance to begin with—or that I could be wrong. With all this progress, however, there are deal breakers. Mine include justification of rape, violence, and oppression. We all have deal breakers. We are also triggered by the memories of our life experience. Another’s opposing view, however, can take away only illusions. It cannot take away what is real.

I appreciate John’s honesty. I will take that any day over:

“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing… I love you dearly!”
Then the passive aggressive behavior continues.

No, give me honesty. When people are honest, they present us with a gift of teaching us what we need to know or reminding us of what we tend to forget.

As if we need reminding, life sucks at times, and people may be struggling to get through the moment. I have no idea what is going on with another unless I ask.

John, thank you. I hope you feel better now.

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© Copyright December 9, 2014 by Kyrian Lyndon at kyrianlyndon.com. All rights reserved. No reproduction permitted without permission.

IT’S HALLOWEEN!

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Like many of you, I love Halloween! I have fond memories of past Halloweens and get excited about it in every new season.

We did a Halloween show on ‘Heart-to-Heart with Kyrian’ tonight and here is the podcast if you’d like to hear it. It was silly fun, and we enjoyed it.

During the show, I read from Edgar Allan Poe’s ‘The Raven’. However, another of my favorite poems to set the mood for Halloween is ‘Darkness’ by Lord Byron.

Finally, here is a poem from me. I wrote it many years ago while visiting a friend in Richmond, Virginia. It was the 30th of October, and Halloween was certainly in the air.

The Eve

Tree after tree, in mere flashes,
Pulled onward so quickly on wheels.
An endless cavity,
A hollow place on a hillside.
Very dark, very black night,
The eve of All Saints Day in Richmond.
Secluded place of abode
Amid a forest of woody-trunked perennials—
I am the diminutive Hansel in the infinite forest!
I come upon a candle-lit haunt of mere shadows.
My eyes wander toward a mysterious and welcoming stairway
Leading to grand doors,
Silent and slightly ajar.
Peering through the open space,
All I see is blackness.
And seated there, on the floor,
In a corner where the candle seems to grow more in tensely,
The gourd-like fruit painted orange
Has a cocky, twisted grin.
Come morning,
Peering out the window,
All is calm
As sun shines
Upon the autumn leaves,
The abandoned rake,
And the green toolshed with chips in the painting.

Kyrian Lyndon

Halloween-21

Stay safe!

‘The Eve’* © August 14, 2014 kyrianlyndon.com. All rights reserved. No reproduction permitted without permission.

*’The Eve’ is included in ‘A Dark Rose Blooms’. For a limited time, you can get ‘A Dark Rose Blooms’ in paperback for $5.28 and the Kindle version for only $.99. They are both available here: A Dark Rose Blooms on Amazon.com

A DARK ROSE BLOOMS WORLDWIDE RELEASE

Such sweet memories I recall
When the sun blinds my eye,
And bluebirds of joy and contentment cry.
The ones that are cold,
Frightening omens foretold,
I want to make them slip away,
Yet they’ll haunt me night and day.

Kyrian Lyndon

‘A Dark Rose Blooms’ available now on Amazon.com


For years, I have been hard at work on a fiction series that will include up to nine books. Since the series has been my main focus, I’ve been tempted to warn people ‘A Dark Rose Blooms’ is just a poetry book. Then I remember an older woman who had corrected me years ago as a teen when I said I was just a secretary. She said forget that word “just.” Just forget it.

She was right about that. I couldn’t imagine a world without poetry any more than I can imagine a world without novels. Its value is more than enough.

I was thinking, however, this seems to be a huge deal for such a little book. It is little. It was easy to throw together. I had all these poems sitting around for decades.

Well, it turned out to be a very special undertaking. I wrote some of these poems at age twenty, others only months ago. I came to realize, too; I was sharing my heart. For that matter, I would also be sharing the first two chapters of the first book in my series.

So by the time Jeff Fielder began working on the cover design, I wanted amazing. And I got amazing in terms of Jeff’s formatting and design. It’s now a beautiful little book.

I know my mom, of all people, would have been thrilled to see this day. She tucked away the first poems I wrote at ages ten and thirteen. Every so often, she’d take them out and read them, smiling and shaking her head, sometimes laughing a little. She passed away three years ago, but I can still see her smiling. I can feel it in my heart.

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© Copyright October, 2014 by Kyrian Lyndon at kyrianlyndon.com. All rights reserved. No reproduction permitted without permission.

‘A Dark Rose Blooms’ cover design by Jeffrey Allen Fielder © Shutterstock 2014

HAPPY FALL

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Ode to Autumn
by John Keats

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run;
To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For Summer has o’er-brimm’d their clammy cells.

Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
Or on a half-reap’d furrow sound asleep,
Drows’d with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
Spares the next swath and all its twinéd flowers:
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
Steady thy laden head across a brook;
Or by a cyder-press, with patient look,
Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.

Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,—
While barréd clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft;
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.

fall-pumpkins-and-leaves

John Keats is one of my favorite poets and for most of my life, fall was my favorite season.

I grow more resistant to the dark evenings of fall as I get older and more inclined to embrace the endless light of summer. However, autumn would not be the same with infinite light and glorious sun, would it? It is a cozy time of cool breezes, warm fires, and precious memories. The darkness, while haunting and a bit unsettling, has its mesmeric beauty.

The video below shows the splendor of fall with audio of Eva Cassidy’s spellbinding voice in ‘Falling Leaves’, a song about autumn and loss. For me, it is bittersweet. My husband died young on a summer day. I can relate to this sentiment—saying goodbye to two seasons. As I parted with a season of light, I parted, too, with a season of love. It is the end of a time and a necessary rebirth, yes bittersweet but beautiful.

Happy Fall!

MANGLED WINGS

Adversity is the first path to truth.” Lord Byron

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Mangled Wings

Weary of all the conjecture, the slants,
Belly full of trite and typical rants.
It’s enough for the troubled, the broken,
Who have to amend it with so little spoken.
Die trying while you wait for the bomb;
Pray for the respite of happy and calm.
Fly out in euphoric bliss, dance of death,
On days it is torture to merely draw breath.
Eyes nearly close, tresses whirl in the breeze;
Touch my face, then graze my lips and appease.
We must embrace these things we abhor.
Rise up, rise up—
Mangled wings need to soar.

From ‘A Dark Rose Blooms’
A poetry book by Kyrian Lyndon

*****

Of all the poems I might have shared from my forthcoming book, I chose this because I learned it is harder to interpret than the other poems. I wrote it eight years ago, following a long battle with illness, which I ultimately won. I had returned to the corporate world, not my favorite of worlds. There were some difficult days. On this particular day, I left the building and walked to the corner. As I waited for the light to cross the street, this little poem formed in my head.

I guess I was saying something like this…

Hope you enjoyed the poem and video! Have a great holiday weekend.

Kyrian

Mangled Wings © Copyright 2006 kyrianlyndon.com. All rights reserved. No reproduction permitted without permission.