Month: October 2025

Poem for an Image

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#9: Care Package

A friend of mine popped up to my job on Thursday to lay a care package at my feet. In it, a lovely card, fuzzy socks (my favorite item of comfort clothing!), a most suitable coffee mug, chocolate (made with oat milk), the indomitable writer and spoken word phenomenon, Lisa Marie Lovett’s (SeasonedDialogue on all platforms) book, a pleasantly fragranced candle, and a beautiful plant. Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt
Care Package by Tremaine L. Loadholt

I hadn’t realized how poignant Jernee’s
death was until the people I love
started gifting me things that
make my heart smile.

Out of the blue, pieces of this
world made their acquaintance with me.
A book, a candle, a mug, some fuzzy socks,
decorative window ornaments, and so
much more.

How did that little four-legged creature
jump into the hearts of others
just as she sashayed effortlessly into mine?

To have someone pop up at the gig
casually ask for you, and then
unload a hug so deep it
touches your soul while handing
you a wicker basket full of what
now connects you even more to them
is love personified.

I didn’t have the words. I almost
didn’t have the legs to stand on
because the gesture had been a
sweet blow to my heart.

I wrapped her in my arms, thanked her
profusely, and assured her that
these gifts will never go unnoticed.
They are the divine circling us back
into each other’s line of sight.

Talking points of a loss heavier than
any I have ever experienced; a feature
film open for all to see.
There are only a few seats left
at the table of love… come one, come all
while there’s still time.

This friend is a former co-worker of mine. While I simply shifted back to a department where I previously worked, we are still employed by the same organization. I am now back to being patient-facing, and I no longer work from home. She still does. We correspond with each other regularly via Teams and text message; however, to see her smiling face this past Thursday, and to know just how special I have to be to her for her to tap into all the things that bring me peace and joy, lets me know that our friendship is forever.

Below is a YouTube Short of one of my favorite Spoken Word Poets, Lisa Marie Lovette, aka Seasoned Dialogue. The fact that she copped her book for me left/leaves me speechless.

Have you gotten your copy of my new book: a collection of serial tales & flash fiction, Séduire (E-Book and Paperback) yet?

I recently signed up to write on Substack as well. Poking the Bear’s Belly for Fun is a place of healing as I speak about the most recent events with a previous place of employment, as it pertains to racism and discrimination, growth from the transition after resigning from that company, and life’s foibles and overall experiences. I welcome your visit.

Autumn’s wings & the love given to a bonsai tree

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Two poems shared on Substack notes

I really do try to be out here rocking my own style. Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt

Autumn’s wings

the chill in the air
is what I live for; the
wind that picks up
moves in the right
direction for me to
glide on it
gracefully.

I walk on Autumn’s
wings, at peace
with the calm that
comes with it.

the love given to a bonsai tree

have you ever pondered the life of a bonsai tree?
contained and pruned regularly to stay alive.
the love it must take to have
someone tend to what you need
at the exact moment you need it
is nothing short of humane.
your livelihood is built around the
caring heart of a human being who
spares time to pour into you
what they may not pour into others.

isn’t that remarkable?
how many of us would thrive in a small container,
shaped and structured to fit our home—safe,
secure, and sturdy throughout many years ahead?

my money’s on not many.

Have you gotten your copy of my new book: a collection of serial tales & flash fiction, Séduire (E-Book and Paperback) yet?

I recently signed up to write on Substack as well. Poking the Bear’s Belly for Fun is a place of healing as I speak about the most recent events with a previous place of employment, as it pertains to racism and discrimination, growth from the transition after resigning from that company, and life’s foibles and overall experiences. I welcome your visit.

Creative Things

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A free verse audio poem

My laptop, the book I’m currently reading (Watering Words by Bridgette Kay), and the remotes to my living room TV. Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt
Creative Things by Tremaine L. Loadholt

It’s hard to explain, I create when
I need to–when the weight of life
sneaks up on me and wrecks my brain.
There’s nothing like moving words
from one section of your heart to another…
nothing like massaging your scalp to
push out stories that have been trapped
inside for weeks; a literary birthing of art.

Background noise, not a deterrent…
I block whatever doesn’t fill me.
I ignore the unimportant.

A writer’s words will see the light
even if darkness has a grip on
their sleeve–they’ll find a way.

My neighbor is taken with me — smitten.
It’s cute.
I’m sure it could have been even cuter
if I hadn’t warped her brain by revealing
my age. I know what it feels like to
crush on someone out of your league…
out of your rank.
20 years my junior, I’ll pass. I can’t
see myself tuning into someone I
could have given birth to.

I never thought I’d see the day
when I’d say, “I am sure I’m way
older than you. How old do you think
I am? My guess, you’re in your 20s,
right?” And right, I was. The look
of shock that swept across her face
was madness to my spirit.

Should I grow more gray hair?
Am I aging backward?

The creator in me wants to poem
the night away, but the thinker
in me allows the words to marinate–to gel.
I have to find a way to build blocks
with the stories I wish to tell… to
wrap them around the stairway to
heaven.

I think there’s a race passing me by,
watching me side-step and
break my ankles just to be
rid of people who are distractions.
I want more creative things, like
the stickers on my laptop, the titillating
words of a fellow author, and the
sacred sunset that’s never on time.

More creative things…
I crave them, and until I am fed,
hunger will ravage me.

Have you gotten your copy of my new book: a collection of serial tales & flash fiction, Séduire (E-Book and Paperback) yet?

I recently signed up to write on Substack as well. Poking the Bear’s Belly for Fun is a place of healing as I speak about the most recent events with a previous place of employment, as it pertains to racism and discrimination, growth from the transition after resigning from that company, and life’s foibles and overall experiences. I welcome your visit.

Wayne Donald

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Flash Fiction: Melissa’s Fandango Flash Fiction Challenge

The image depicts the corner of a room with bright green walls and ornate stacked moulding in white and gold. We see part of a chandelier hanging from the ceiling. A sofa with green and gold striped fabric and gold trim sits against one wall. Various artworks of different sizes adorn the walls, some framed in gold and some black. Photo by Elif Gulgac on Unsplash.

“Where the hell is Wayne Donald?!”

Kinley Chris yells from across the salty shore. Her younger sister shot like lightning from their grandmother’s front porch to the mouth of the beach when she heard the fireworks.

To try and coax her home, Kinley runs at full speed with a bag of gummy bears dangling from her back pocket–her sister’s favorite snack.

“Wayne Donald! Wayne Donald! I’ve got your favorite snack! Come on out here. I ain’t got all day!”

The girls are the two most oddly named children at their school–in their neighborhood. Wayne Donald, the youngest, at age 7, is a blonde-haired, green-eyed turbo train of unbridled anxiety. Kinley Chris, 13, is cinnamon sunshine with a pinch of “Don’t waste my time”, and their personalities speak before they do.

Plainly put, they don’t need an introduction.

The girls’ grandmother sits in her art room, rocking back and forth to the sound of the island’s fireworks.

No one is allowed in this room, not even her husband (not the girls’ biological grandfather). The room is both peaceful and creepy. It’s a vibrant green with a cream and gold ceiling, and has Art Deco-like furniture. It smells like a scene from a Foghorn Leghorn cartoon married to last night’s dinner. The girls gladly stay out of it.

“Wayne Donald! Wayne!!! Girl, where are you?! It’s getting dark, and I’m cold as the teats on a mama polar bear!”

On the pier, directly behind the viewers, Wayne Donald appears. She is wearing a snaggletoothed smile and sea-soaked clothes.

“I’m right here, Kinley Chris! If I was a snake, woulda bit ya!”

The little girl races to her older sister, slaps five with her, and snatches the gummy bears from her back pocket.

“If that was all I had to do to get these here gummy bears outta ya, Kinley, I woulda did it long ago.”

She leans into the tight embrace of her big sister, and they plop their tired bodies on the muddied sand.

“If all you wanted was some candy, Wayne Donald, all you had to do was ask.”

The girls’ grandmother lifts the window in the art room and calls them home. Her wretched voice echoes along the beach. They race each other back to the long-winding porch and float through the front door.

Tomorrow’s adventures await.

This piece is my offering for this week’s Melissa’s Fandango Flash Fiction Challenge. The name, “Wayne Donald,” came to me first, then the image of the little girls, and the story wrote itself from there. I love these challenges, and I am grateful for them as kickstarters for buried creativity.

Flying Time

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Rapid Rhyme #1

Caison Michael’s 8th birthday celebration. My little Munchkin Man is 8 now! *SOBS* Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt
Flying Time by Tremaine L. Loadholt

He’s eight now,
Time flies, wow!
Can’t keep my emotions intact
The little ones are growing so fast
I remember diaper-changing days,
Now that period has flown away.
I watch as he sprouts to the sky,
His beauty and loving heart soaring high.
Could it be just another year,
One destined to leave me in tears,
Or is it a momentous occasion,
A turn of time with persuasion,
And a final blow to my chest, OUCH!

Have you gotten your copy of my new book: a collection of serial tales & flash fiction, Séduire (E-Book and Paperback) yet?

I recently signed up to write on Substack as well. Poking the Bear’s Belly for Fun is a place of healing as I speak about the most recent events with a previous place of employment, as it pertains to racism and discrimination, growth from the transition after resigning from that company, and life’s foibles and overall experiences. I welcome your visit.

12 Hours

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The body works hard
Time’s priceless
Money-hungry days

Everything’s sky high
Overtime
Increases savings

Dying on my feet
Will save me
Last chance at this life

Modern-day misfit
Making do
Twelve-hour shift’s over

Have you gotten your copy of my new book: a collection of serial tales & flash fiction, Séduire (E-Book and Paperback) yet?

I recently signed up to write on Substack as well. Poking the Bear’s Belly for Fun is a place of healing as I speak about the most recent events with a previous place of employment, as it pertains to racism and discrimination, growth from the transition after resigning from that company, and life’s foibles and overall experiences. I welcome your visit.