A Little About Me
I am an adventure seeking ponderer of the mysteries of the universe, writer of children's books (represented by Stephen Fraser of the Jennifer DeChiara Literary Agency), and lover of anything involving armor, archery, or swashbuckling.
MAY 4-5, 2019
Share the Joy of Reading with
Holy Schlamoly – honored that my post “2 A.M.” was
- IN HOT PURSUIT OF THE UNTETHERED MIND
- KEEP CALM AND CARRY ON – A Teacher Appreciation Dissertation
- POETIC PONDERING ON: What rhymes with Wisteria?
- THE POWER OF LOVE
- KALAALLIT NUNAAT – Can’t Get You Outta’ My Head
- A MIDWINTER NIGHT’S MADNESS
- WHAT’S ALL THE COMMOTION? A Bit Of Promotion
- IF I WERE A ______ LOVE POEM: A Valentine Pondering Of Sorts
Member Since 2007
© 2012 Donna Gwinnell Lambo Weidner
Punishment for ignoring said © is, at best, death by hanging from the tallest yardarm. Content may be shared for non-commercial use as long as credit is given to Donna Gwinnell Lambo-Weidner and linked to http://donnaweidner.com All photo, art, and media content that is not my own are for representational + non-commercial purposes. I do my best to give credit where it is due.
PORTS OF CALL
Category Archives: Essay
Because our minds are not confined to the constraints of our craniums, a ride down the rabbit hole can be endless with its twists and turns, zigs and zags, steep climbs, and plummeting tumbles into a time-sucking abyss. You’re familiar … Continue reading
With a stinky stogie clamped between my teeth, I threw a crumpled trench coat over my shoulder, slapped my grandfather’s worn fedora on my head, stood on tip-toes and peeked through the window of the classroom door. Waiting for my … Continue reading
She stands facing the pale, windswept bay, tall and erect as the ancient redwoods poking through the shroud of fog folding over the mountain range behind her. They loom in the distance like a pack of protective brothers, chanting in … Continue reading
Why do I write? Good question. It’s not because it’s been a passion ever since second grade when Sister Ann Michael praised my poem I WANT TO BE A DOG for its wit, rhyme, and wild imagination, or the inclusion … Continue reading
Until I was six, I thought Uncle Sally’s name was Who-Gives-A-Sh*t. Everyone called him that – the neighbors, the few friends he had, his business associates, the family – even his mother, my Nana. She’d hoped the label wouldda’ forced her caro … Continue reading
It’s somehow fitting. The sweeping square is shrouded in silence, but for the dime-size drops of rain slapping the neatly laid cobbled stones under my feet. The typically bustling quad is empty too, except for the line of bicycles strung … Continue reading