basics of the 8th

My 8th tattoo, the Aries Ram, artistically expressed courtesy of Drew Collins at Art Attack in Winston-Salem, NC. Photo Collage Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt


Aries ram . . .
respectfully, yes, I
did capture the 8th
in a colorful sphere
of creature quality
for the first
zodiac sign.

the artist touched
my heart with his
artistic discretion.
my left thigh is
home to change
that is constant.

a therapeutic session after
my therapy session that
both pained and
invigorated me opens
eyes and launches
illustrated conversations
third eyes can’t see.

I am a ram.
to put it plainly,
I breathe Aries.
my sane self greets
my insane self and
we make magic
and miracles jealous.


Haven’t you gotten your copy of my new book: a collection of serial tales & flash fiction, Séduire (E-Book and Paperback) yet?

Writers: A Challenge

Body Art: Yea or Nay “In Five Words”

#6 . . . Lotus tattoo, left wrist. Why? Because I always feel like my best self when I come out of the muck. Photo Credit: Nick, the artist at Art Attack in Winston-Salem, NC.

Some may love it. Some may hate it. Some are indifferent. Others probably just don’t care. What say you? Tell me your opinion on body art of any form. Do you have tattoos or multiple piercings or unique piercings or brandings of any kind? No? Let’s hear why.

Everyone is entitled to their opinion (of course), let’s be respectful, though . . . and creative.

Here’s mine:

Six unique pieces;
body museum.

Now, it’s your turn. Tell me what you love, like, dislike, or are often intrigued by regarding body art but using just five words.

Writers, please bring it!

You knew there’d be music. SNAP! The Power

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Originally shared via Medium.

Featured Poem of the Week

Lowen Puckey 

An advocate for mental health, disability, and chronic illness–she pens her words carefully but manages to add so much strength to them too. She is an active contributor to A Cornered Gurl and is giving our little community lessons in life through words. The poem that I have selected to feature is entitled, “Lines On My Body.” It is an amazing flow of words and ends solidly too. Everything about it makes me happy to be a writer of the genre, poetry. And now, “Lines On My Body.”


Lines On My Body

I want these lines on my body
showing my journey,
expressing my womanhood–

bold patterns of identity
from a feminine hand.

But there is part of me
that shouts don’t do it!
No man will touch you–

(not this man but maybe the next).
No job will have you–
(not this job but maybe others).

So, perhaps, like that poem about
the old lady wearing green shoes
(or was it purple? or red?)
because she finally felt free
to do so — perhaps, like her, I’ll
finally cover myself in the beautiful
images of my life when I’m sixty;

when I don’t need to care about
the bank manager anymore, or
the boyfriend. Maybe then I can say:

I don’t have a photo album or
a Facebook page — don’t need it.
It’s all on me. Part of me. Come.

See me.


Originally published in A Cornered Gurl via Medium.