I did not think this would happen as quickly as it did, but here we are… Global distribution of Scattered Words: Poems for Jernee Timid Loadholt has been approved and is now available to purchase on Amazon and for review on Goodreads!
I had prepared myself for a long wait; however, I did not have to wait incredibly long to see the book I produced from pain, sorrow, grief, and joy for my beloved Jernee Timid.
About the book:
In Scattered Words: Poems for Jernee Timid Loadholt, the author wants you, the reader, to experience Jernee in totality and understand why she has lost the greatest companion she has ever known. If you have ever grieved the loss of a pet, many of these poems will not only resonate with you, they will set up holding spaces in your mind, crawl into your heart, and retreat only when they have been commanded to do so.
You will laugh, cry, nod in agreement, and reminisce about your furry family member(s) and how they have become your strength. Grief is not linear, and every creeping moment it decides to invade your heart, there is a poem in this book to greet it.
In Scattered Words…, Tremaine celebrated, lamented, grieved, loved, and released Jernee Timid Loadholt. Every day, she will probably do these things again—not necessarily in that order.
If you have never met a dog who had the uncanny ability to be more memorable than some of the people you know, with this book of poems, you will have your chance.
The photography is in color and cartoonized. The font is big enough for those of us with visual impairments and aging eyes to see. The cover is a hard one… I want this book to stand the test of time and any possible minor damage that could occur to it. It is 8.5 x 11, durable, engaging, and one you can share with your friends, family, children, grandchildren, and students.
Thank you so much for your undying support. However you wish to purchase it, if ever you wish to purchase it, I am forever grateful.
Photo by Birgith Roosipuu. In the photos, there is a bouquet of pink roses laid on a white surface. Gathered around the roses are five pink heart-shaped macarons and a mug of coffee with steamed milk.
He doesn’t like to celebrate Valentine’s Day; says it’s too commercialized and filled with people gunning to purchase items they’ll never buy again until next year. I agree and don’t agree at the same time. I am not into the capitalist side of the holiday; I am into the romance side of it. I planned a trip away from home — just the two of us (he often likes to do group activities with our boys and a few of our lady friends, but not this time), at one of the most luxurious AirBnBs you’ll find on this side of Maine. We live in Auburn, and this place is in Sanford — not even a two-hour drive for us.
In Auburn, Gray enjoys fishing, attending the balloon festivals, and visiting various farmers’ markets, but I want to try something different. I’ve booked a lovely two-bedroom cottage, not too far from Mousam View Place (where I’ve made reservations for dinner and wine tasting). We’ll also dive into a pottery session, play golf at the Sanford Country Club (shout out to my Godbrother Chance for the day pass), and explore the nightlife Sanford has to offer during the final throes of Winter.
If I didn’t take matters into my own hands, we’d be basking in one another’s presence in front of the 55-inch Roku SmartTV yet again on Valentine’s night. And while I love looking at my honey, I yearn for more. Ooh, here he comes now.
“Hey, love. How was work?”
Gray looks defeated from a day that pummeled him simultaneously, yet as soon as he lays eyes on Terrence, his entire mood changes, and his body relaxes.
“You know, same shit, different day. Dan hit us with yet another project that’s due early next week, and I am over his need to impress the upper echelon. Dude has such a comfy position and has no earthly idea how hard it is to cram project after project into a timeline of completion. It’s like talking to a deer in headlights — he’s clueless.”
Terrence shifts his body and raises himself from their boneless, tan-colored couch to meet Gray’s gaze.
“Love… I am not making light of your current situation, but it’s Valentine’s Day weekend, and you’re off tomorrow, so I’ve booked a day trip to Sanford. Now, before you say ‘No,’ don’t. I am not trying to hear it. I have a list of things planned, and I know you will love at least three of them, so… pack a bag, baby. We are getting out of Auburn for four days.
“What do you mean? What have you gone and done, Terrence? Shiiiit, I need a getaway. And you know I don’t rock with Valentine’s Day like that, but this sounds more like a mini vacation than anything else, so… I’ll let it slide… This time.
Terrence squeals with excitement and claps his hands together enthusiastically. He glues his body against Gray’s and showers him with tiny kisses. As soon as he turns to dash to their bedroom to grab his bags, Gray speaks again.
“I don’t know, though, Ter. I got this project that I really need to focus on. If I don’t have the numbers crunched and a gameplan for launching a compatible AI platform for our company, this luxurious lifestyle we have grown accustomed to may take a nosedive.”
“Says who?! Gray, I make more than enough at the gallery to cover us until you find another job, which you would in absolutely no time. So… again, there will not be a ‘No’ to this. It’s already done.”
Silence coats the room, and the two of them busy themselves with last-minute packing, eager for the romantic getaway. Terrence is getting his way.
I knew that he would try to weasel out of this before we could even get into it, but I was not having it! We work too hard, he especially, to not enjoy the fruits of our labor. And I can’t wait to snuggle up next to him tonight after we are settled into the comforts of the cottage.
This Valentine’s Day weekend, I will give the love of my life, the love of his life.
Homemade salad: diced chicken tenders, cucumbers, onions, tomatoes, blueberries, spinach, & Colby Jack cheese. I drizzled the ranch dressing onto the salad after I took the photo. Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt
better at home
fresh fruits and veggies diced chicken tenders with cheese creamy ranch dressing
AI-Generated Image: A Black man dressed handsomely in a jean jacket, cream-colored shirt, and jeans, standing on a porch in front of a door. He has a pensive look on his face.
we all feel, and he didn’t
he was too equanimous. you maybe thinking, “that’s not a good thing?” and I’m obligated to tell you that I needed someone who would explode with anger if the world caved in on him… eventually.
I needed to know that he could cry, would cry if his heart were crushed with grief. but he didn’t know tears—he hadn’t been open enough to let them cleanse him, and I couldn’t continue to love a man who wouldn’t emote.
I understand strength, the rearing of holding back emotion when you can release it was always weakness to me. I wanted to know that if I broke down, he could break down with me, and we’d lift each other up.
but in a world that tells a man to be stone in order to be loved, he couldn’t hear my cries.
David, at The Skeptic’s Kaddish, and I have collaborated once more using the Rengay form of poetry. It is always a pleasure working with a talented writer such as him, and I was happy to take part in this ongoing series once again. A snippet of the poem is below.
db-
razor at my neck each scrape both threat and comfort— smooth with tiny bumps
tll-
risky weather won’t stop me money doesn’t grow on trees
db-
bank notification— I pretend not to see it until tomorrow
tll-
worry doesn’t rest I’m in a headlock adulting is trash
You can read the poem in its entirety by clicking on the link below. Thank you again, David! It’s always a blast!
A Cornered Gurl 
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