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.
Share the Joy of Reading with a Child in Need
Holy Schlamoly – honored that my post “2 A.M.” was
- SERMERSSUAQ – An Earth Day Homage
- KALAALLIT NUNAAT – Looking For A Fix
- KALAALLIT NUNAAT – Taking Care Of Business
- VALENTINES DAY IS NOT JUST FOR LOVERS
- DID SOMEONE SAY CHOCOLATE?
- ODE TO RESILIENCE
- WOCKA – WOCKA! An Encounter of the Metaphorical Kind
- BEINN HIANT – My Everest
- A PRE-HALLOWEEN SCOTTISH TALE
- FOOD FOR ‘HERE AND NOW’ THOUGHT
Member Since 2007
Drop Anchor, Grab a Shovel, and Dig Through The Past
© Donna Gwinnell Lambo-Weidner 2012-2017Punishment 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.
A FEW FELLOW SWASHBUCKLERS
Category Archives: POEMS
One homemade heart trimmed in frilly, white lace, One arrow, one promise of a sweet, warm embrace… Once it’s notched, drawn, and trained on his chosen bullseye, Cupid first blows a kiss, and then lets it ~~~ fly ~~~
Mourning in the morning is more difficult than at night since your ghost is visible in the daylight, said the woman, hands folded, as if reciting a prayer, to the aide sliding a comb through her once shiny, thick hair. You know you can’t hide inside that disguise! She … Continue reading
Shhhhh. Listen. Do you hear it? The Calling? It’s not only an invitation to adventure from somewhere outside ourselves, but also an intangible summons from deep within. It rests on mist shrouded mountain tops, sways suspended above the oceans’ floors, and … Continue reading
One homemade heart trimmed in frilly, white lace… One arrow, one promise of a sweet, warm embrace… Once it’s notched, drawn, and trained on his chosen bullseye, Cupid first blows a kiss, and then lets it ~~~ fly ~~~