The Sunshine Factor

where sunshine is a way of life

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More Goofiness

“Odd and Strange”

Jingle jangle

Tingle tangle

My goodness, what are these?

They are nothing but rot

Esteemed they are not

Much like snot

that’s their lot


Fiddle faddle

up the creek without a paddle

shake, roll and rattle

for me to be serious today is quite a battle


I leave you with this

this you wouldn’t want to miss

I pull you out of the abyss

so you can hiss

at your silly friend Niss


Poetry Saturday: Guest Poem

Today I turn the “podium” over to my friend Erik Andrulis from  I am thrilled that he shares such a wonderful memory…

Erik writes:

I found this poem, “Warm from Cold,” in my notebook as dated 1/18/88.  However, I think the original version of this poem dates back to 1986.  The poem tells the story of a common occurrence when I was a child – my mother sending me out into the cold—out to play in the snow—only to have her welcome me back into the warm: in front of the fire, the warm hot chocolate, the warmth of her love.

” Warm from Cold”

Covered with a scratch wool scarf,
an itchy wool hat,
(that the moths had never reached),
two unmatched mittens,
scritchy stretchy socks,
with sandwich baggies over them
(so my socks and toes wouldn’t get wet),
rubber golashes with metal clasps,
shoulder-strap ski pants,
and broken zippered jacket
held together by safety pins
(broken in by my brother),
my mother sent me out—
into the pouring snow,
to prance, to parade, to frolic
in blissful pageantry,
to roll, to throw, to build
with eternal creativity—
only to return
to a state of time,
soaked and frosty
from head to toe.

She would then proceed
to peel off my layers,
wrap me in a warm blanket,
sit me down before
the crackling, sparkling, warming fire,
give me graham crackers
and hot chocolate
with tiny marshmallows
served on that old wooden tray,
then sit down beside me
read me a book
tell me she loved me
thaw me close
and rock me to sleep.

This poem makes me want to go play in the snow!  I think a poem is truly successful when it brings the reader back in time where one can experience all their senses through the poem’s words, such as this one.  Thanks for guesting today, Erik!  🙂





Waxing Sentimental

Hello dear friends,

Guess what? My blog Sunshine Factor turns one year old on August 18th! I’m already getting sentimental about it. I hold you all close to my heart, and this has been a really significant year for me. Hence, I give you a poem:


You’re far away

but you’ll always be near

how can this be so

when I haven’t even met you?SolitudeGolden Retriever


Hearts can transcend the miles

it matters not how far

it only takes two people

or a whole blogging community

to get your heart filled up

and bring sunshine to the shadows


You love to write

I love to read and write

so we’re a good friend match

Know that you’ll always be near

the miles don’t matter

hearts simply thrive

in the knowledge of each other


Thank you for being here for me

I’m so thankful I even can be

If ever you need me

remember I’m just a heartbeat away.


With gratitude, peace, love and laughter,




  • Alone (


Poetry Saturday: Perilous Punctuation

 I used to practice different forms of poetry on Saturdays.  Today I am going to use the simple style of no punctuation whatsoever.  My free form poetry tends to run this way, but I think it will be hard not to stick some punctuation in here and there.  I’ll even say:  no capital letters except for the title.  Hmm, I sense a story coming on….


i had a beautiful dream this morning

where i was on a highway riding a bike

yet it was a bike that had a steering wheel

as i steered all i could see was the beautiful sky

during my favorite part of the morning

early dawn with pinks and blues and teals

i couldn’t see the road

and hoped to god that i would not crash

then i wondered what would sentences do

if they did not have punctuation

would life be an aimless adventure

like in my dream

the punctuation marks all came to my mind

and stood like a small army

they took on human characteristics

and i got to know them more fully


the period was a travel agent

he said you have to get done seeing one country

before you pass into another


the question mark raised her eyebrows

indicating her questioning nature


the semi colon was a pair of twins

the period and the comma wondered why

they could not be one mark or another


the quotation marks

were the opera singer’s arms

as she stuck them out wide with a flourish

to announce a coming high note

felt from the heart and voiced with the lips
the commas

felt like rubber duckies on a conveyer belt

the series of words or list of words they surrounded

just kept coming and coming and coming


the colon was a football coach

who announced the coming plays

when he did this you knew you should pay attention


the asterisk was a detective

first he had you read one clue

and then find him at the end

where he would give you the explanation or meaning

of what went down


The parentheses were a comedian

who explained things

so you could get the jokes


that my friend is

what i saw some punctuation marks as

if i left some out

please grace us with your vision

of the forgotten ones

and realize

the only capital letters

i had to make lower case

were my i s.


Please note:  next Saturday, August 10, Sunshine Factor will welcome a guest poet to our Poetry Saturday.  You won’t want to miss it!

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Poem: Strange

Here I sit
waiting for inspiration
No – I don’t knit
maybe I need a vacation

I do love rhymes
lovely as chimes
I have nothing to say
it’s a very strange day

C’mon Mr. Muse
give me some news
What shall I write about?
I’m usually wordy, there’s no doubt


Poetry Saturday – A Singing Poem

This week’s poem will use personalization of an inanimate object AND be written with a song melody in mind.  See if you can figure out what song was on my mind when I wrote this!


O Chocolate,

I long to have you!

Go away, you toothless menace!

You bother me

and give me headaches

Go away and I’ll be healthy now

and no more tummy aches, either.


Poetry Saturday

Pity by William Blake, 1795, Tate Britain, is ...

Pity by William Blake, 1795, Tate Britain, is an illustration of two similes in Macbeth: “And pity, like a naked new-born babe, / Striding the blast, or heaven’s cherubim, hors’d / Upon the sightless couriers of the air”. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Today’s poetry style will use similes:  comparisons of the qualities or attributes of two things, usually using ‘like’ or ‘as’.


The moon is like the sun

both are adored and studied by many


Love is like hate

both are very strong emotions


Debb is as funny

as a clown whose pants fall down


My readers

are like beautiful stars at night

as breathtaking as beauty

and each shining and sparkling in their own way




it’s been here a lot lately

and even the earthworms have noticed


They get flooded out of their homes

under the grass

and come up to the roadside to breathe


Why do they not stay at the side of the street

and congregate together as if waiting for a bus?

Perhaps they think the dirt is more dry

across the street

They run the risk of being flattened by others

but they inch along anyway


These little guys deserve some credit

they aerate the dirt where they live

and are like little gardeners in their own right

Their homes are in danger of being washed out

but still they keep plodding along


Maybe we can take a lesson

from these simple, linear creatures


Poetry Saturday – The Grumpthings

The cave

The cave (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Today’s poem will use neologisms (invented new words).


The kids discovered a new type of plaything

They were called grumpthings

who lived at the edge of town

in the entrance of a cave


The grumpthings were like tall trolls

with piercing and small eyes instead of large


The grumpthings were furry

and, when touched, they seethed and spit

Maybe they wouldn’t want to play with the kids after all

and it seemed like they didn’t want to be looked at either


The grumpthings eventually indicated to the children

that they wanted to play ooingasasana

Each child snapped their fingers and pointed at a grumpthing,

“their” grumpthing would then go to the top of the child’s head

and rest on it

holding on with his owl-like claws


Six children, six grumpthings, and six hours later

the furry creatures grew wings and flew out of the cave

The ooingasasana game

had given the children the ability to grow wings too

The children flew home

before their parents could hear about

the grumpthings, their strange little game

and their strange looks


Feeling Stronger Every Day

enjoying life

enjoying life

It’s the end of the week again

I am feeling better and on a stronger path

There’s lots of hope for the future

as the sun remembers to come out

and I forge ahead


Sweet are the days of a weekend

thinking of the possibilities puts me at bliss

I will savor and live it to the full

as I thankfully am NOT in a black abyss

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NaPoWriMo #16


It occurs to me

I could live in a tree

but then I wouldn’t be able to sleep

because the dark outside would be way too deep.

I could live in a rustic cabin

but my conscience would be a’jabbin’

I like to be home for my hubby and cats

at home you can never have too many welcome mats.

I could live anywhere, I guess

but it sure would be a mess

not to have a place I belong to

where I can appreciate the dew


Hope this finds you happily adjusted, wherever you live.  🙂

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NaPoWriMo #14


They say coffee gets them going

and with writers, their thoughts start flowing.

Me?  I don’t like the stuff

Water, milk and juice is enough.


Sugar is what I am quite attracted to,

sweets for the sweet, they say ~~

Giving sugar up is very hard to do

Having fun with sugar is my way to play.


Salt is what some people crave

the road to a higher blood pressure, it will pave.

It gives meals a taste to savor ~~

and you don’t even have to waiver.


Nothing is bad if done in moderation —

that’s a right dandy quotation.

However, as I try to learn this small trick,

I feel like a sad, water-logged candle wick.


English: Main complications of persistent high...

English: Main complications of persistent high blood pressure. Sources are found in main article: Wikipedia:Hypertension#Complications. To discuss image, please see Template_talk:Häggström diagrams. To edit, please use the svg version, convert to png and update both versions online. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)


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NaPoWriMo #12

English: Charlotte Youth Ballet, company membe...

English: Charlotte Youth Ballet, company members performing in Sleeping Beauty (Photo credit: Wikipedia)


Hoof it

move it

love life

jump for joy!

Fox trot:

can you do this at a hot spot?

Probably not

but don’t let your legs rot.




until the music halts.

Dance like no one’s looking

when waiting for your next booking.

We’ll say, “I remember when

he started dancing in his den.”

Ooglie cooglie

I’ve made a mess of this

Please forgive your sis

when she’s a Silly Millie.

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Poem: The Writer I Am

Hi folks, my friend Nesher at kindly put this poem in his blog.   I am including it here so that maybe you can get to know me a little better.
by Debbie Loesel Stanton
Ever since being a little girl
the one with the Saturday curls
To be a writer, I said, I just might.
I have written on everything in sight.
I wrote words on the inside cover of books;
I didn’t care if I got looks.
It was me the other kids ran to
if they needed to know how to spell something.
Don’t they know, those silly grumpthings?
Later on, with great imagination
it was fun to write stories
even writing about being stuck in rock quarries.
My time spent in writing
dwindled after I wrote the start of a book at age 12.
Reading I loved, so into that I delved.
Then came the time that EVERYONE was saying,
“Journaling is good for a person,” and I was supposed to be obeying.
I have journaled on and off for years
but never made a daily habit of it during the tears.
After that, I went to writing school
where a vivid imagination becomes a great tool.
My professor told me, “You’re a writer
even if you haven’t published anything;
if you’re a writer, your writing will sing.” *
I took his words to heart;
it was hard to keep me and writing apart.
I ate it, breathed it, slept it
and instead of journaling,
my poems and stories became my daily habit.
Today I carry on that same habit
I’m so glad I can do this
I have reached the gold at the end of my rainbow
For even more happiness, to my writing I can always go.
*  This is what I believe; my professor did not tell me this.

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NaPoWriMo #11


Writing (Photo credit: Wikipedia)


If you ask me, I’d rather be writing

I’m not into fighting.

To write is the greatest thing in the world

Let the flags be unfurled.

It is important to find your place

whether it’s running a country or running a race.

To be who you are meant to be

Is for everyone my humble plea.

Remember you have power

even in the shower

to hear your heart’s call

and for nothing less fall.

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NaPoWriMo #10

The laughing jester // Art museum of Sweden, S...

The laughing jester // Art museum of Sweden, Stockholm (Photo credit: Wikipedia)


The family who lived in the palace was weird

but that is because their memory was seared.

They were also a strange lot –

the family that time forgot.


The king was very jolly

born around the time of Hi Ho and Holly.

He loved his wife

although she caused him strife.

She had a constant laugh like a cackle,

so into her mouth he poured some spackle.


The king’s daughter was named Heather

she was petite and light as a feather.

But her face was scary

so she would never marry.


Herbert was the king’s son

who refused to be outdone.

He tied up his nanny

and put her out on her fanny.

(His timing was uncanny.)


Oh yes, there was a court jester

who let his anger fester.

He grabbed his good mead

and jumped on his steed.

Not remembering his past

in this loony bin he would not last.


The cook served the royalty

but they sure knew about spoility.

He couldn’t stand them anymore

so fed them a boar

drizzled with poison right down to the core.


So, you may ask, why did the palace

contain so much malice?


They finally figured out

and really, without a doubt,

that they really were not royalty.

Their time on vacation

was quite a narration

as their minds they lost

and there, their memories were tossed.

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NaPoWriMo #8

English: Is a photo of a turkey Català: És una...

English: Photo of a proud tom turkey Català: És una fotografia d’un gall dindi en epoca d’aparellament (Photo credit: Wikipedia)


You remember that Rachael is our newest cat?

She is very small and classier than the Cat in the Hat.

Every early morning she rushes to her favorite place

to see her favorite wild turkeys almost face to face.

Almost all year three tom turkeys stroll past

and look for food by our front deck.

Lately the hens hang out, they make their visit last

and watch the tom with the scrawny neck.

The hens could about Tom care less

Even as he puts on his courting show.

His tail feathers fan out for who he admires, Bess,

He really hopes she won’t say no.

Today Tom again came calling

but lo, his confidence is falling.

The hens had already come and gone,

They weren’t interested in his feathery brawn.

Rachael waits for the hens to come back,

she seems to be on their side.

She’s concerned about the hens and their lack

and wants her Mama to bring them inside.


NaPoWriMo Poem #1


Poetry, we hail thee

as the messenger of good

the comfort of the ages

to whom we can go

with our pithy problems.


We can read thee

and never again be the same.

We can write poetry

and really notice a change.


I love you,

I devour you,

my thoughts are always on you.


My muse knew what she was doing

when she pointed the way

back in time to a little girl

rhyming and writing at a very young age,

for now I again need you

for full expression of everything inside me.

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Poetry Saturday

English: Spring Flowers

English: Spring Flowers (Photo credit: Wikipedia)


Almost Easter

and the slight slopes and hills of my neighborhood

are covered half in white, half in green

The ice is finally melting

and by my office window

pitter pats of departing ice

herald spring.


Cardinals and crows call out

the former’s voice is grand

The robin has not arrived yet

Maybe this year she is as fickle

as the weather.


Spring, you are taking so long

and have prolonged our agony

we will be so glad when you

melt all our snow

even if you are way past your official starting date.


Welcome, rebirth and renewal!

Welcome to the revisitation of

sunshine – the kind that brings warmth.

You make us smile.



Poetry Saturday: Daisy

Today I will write a poem using the style of giving a personality to an inanimate object.  (A good example of this can be found in the Bible (in Proverbs) where wisdom is referred to as a “she”.)


How fair among flowers you are, Daisy,

for you never cease to be cheerful.

You are the brightness to my dark

and giggles to counteract my sighing.


You prove over and over again

that most things are like the ugly duckling.

Your stem is drab and sticky,

but your face is pretty,

Upon sight of you I smile.


Sometimes you are are called a “painted daisy”

like my grandmother grew in her garden,

but you are usually like a white-adorned bride.


Your fragrance is delicate,

sometimes not even there,

but never overpowering;

sweetness at its most beautiful best.


I can see why you’re related to the sunflower

your middle section a beautiful yellow-gold.

Your petals grow starting at  your center

and they pass on the joy from there.


I admire you and have for years,

you and Tulip being the only flowers I ever drew.

I hope to pass on your sunshine

as you keep on encouraging me to never give up hope.


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A Poem from Guest Poet

Today Sunshine Factor welcomes my friend Tom Lucas to the writing board.  I really appreciate his poetry because it lets me know that I’m not the only one who thinks and feels like I do…


on the way to a new destination

on the way to a new destination


It’s Hard to Move Slowly


I was in Cape Canaveral driving

Headed to a housewarming

Not sure where I was going

The first time driving somewhere


Is always a bit irritating.


Silence, looking for the turn

GPS barks “turn right”

So I do. It’s not the

Right turn at all.


I turned right, but it wasn’t right.


It was some dead-end RV park

As dead as Cape Canaveral dreams.

Ratty metal boxes, and a single dirt road

I wanted out fast, but had to go slow.


Stupid 5 mph speed limit in the joint.


I can’t go 5 miles per hour.

I can’t even sit at 5 miles per hour.

So I didn’t. I needed to get back on track.

Then, from somewhere unseen


A voice yells, “SLOW DOWN!”


Dammit, really?

This is how you spend your day?

I’m not even supposed to be here.

This wasn’t my choice of destination.


Part of me wanted to stop the car and smack this guy.


Instead, I kept going and eventually

Made it out and to the party.

But I thought about that voice

And who was behind it.


A lone guardsman against perceived chaos.


Sitting deep in a sea of aging tin cans

Retirement plans choked by weeds

A sad dirt road winding through them

On a chair, staring at the blankness of it all.

I never want to be that guy.


by Tom Lucas



Tom has a blog on WordPress – check out   His latest book Leather to the Corinthians premiered on 12/12/12 to the excitement and applause of many.   He continues to teach,  is hard at work on his next book,  and still offers his unique commentaries.


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Her Goodbyes

A female Northern Cardinal (Cardinalis cardina...

A female Northern Cardinal (Cardinalis cardinalis) on a wooden rail. Photo taken with a Panasonic Lumix DMC-FZ50 in Johnston County, North Carolina, USA. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The cardinal mom cries

she’ll have to say her goodbyes

to her little peeps that need her.

It is so cold, here in the north

when sleet, rain, hail and snow

all come at once.

The cardinal family’s legs

are all so spindly

and their feathers pretty thin.

God of the heavens where I fly,

why is it already time to die?

My babies are much too young

to get along without me now

Please help me find a snow-covered little den

where I can house my beloveds.

Keep them safe and warm

when I fly back to You, my Creator.

The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh.

Please give them a good mom

when you take me away from them.

I put myself in your safe, comforting hands.

I’ll see you soon!


Three-Part Poem: Part III

The Parting of Sir Lancelot and Queen Guinever...

The Parting of Sir Lancelot and Queen Guinevere (1874) albumen print 34.8 x 28.6 cm. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

“Sunrise in the Highlands”

III.  Edward and Guinevere

Oh my! Edward said

when he spotted a human being

on the hillside toward the east.

She had raised her arms to the sky

and the sunlight naturally

shone through her cotton dress.

Edward ran to where she was.

Oh no!  Guinevere grimaced.

I was counting on being alone

out here in this beauty.

“May I help you?”  Guinevere asked.

Always with an attitude of servitude,

she looked up into his face

and squinted her eyes

because by now, the sun was fully risen.

Edward stammered, “Uh – yes.  I am

looking for someone.”

Normally suave and well spoken,

all of a sudden he was rendered

stupid-sounding and unsure of himself.

This lass had the most remarkable eyes

he ever saw.

They were so liquid and bright,

deeply set into that porcelain skin

with a beautiful smile.

And that hair!!  It’s blonde, but it’s beautiful!

Must be a foreigner,

he thought.

Guinevere once again sat down on the hill.

“The next village is down there,” Guinevere pointed,

“and it will take you about half hour to get there.”

She was taken aback by this handsome man.

Probably a prince, she thought to herself.

“Thank you,” said Edward, now breathing more steadily.

“Actually, I came to meet you.”

“Do not tease me, please,” begged Guinevere.

“I am outcast by my family and community

and have heard enough jokes about me

to last a lifetime.”

“Well, dear lady,” Edward went on to explain.

“I think I’m the joke here.

All my life I thought I had to marry someone

within my own ranks and status.

I thought I wanted a Scottish princess

with hair of red or brunette,

But all that is not important now.

I’ve been looking for the wrong person

all my life.  The joke is on me

because I assumed everything would be as I’d planned.”

Guinevere blushed and responded,

“I see now you are honest and sincere,

and I admit that I too made assumptions.

I thought a man of your looks

would never talk to someone like me.”

“Oh, do you mean a beauty with flaxen hair?”

“Yes, and also someone who is a common sheepwoman.”

Guinevere said this with quaking breath

because she could not quite believe this was all real.

“It turns out, my fair one,” Edward explained,

“that rank and status mean nothing to me anymore.

Only matters of the heart.”

Edward and Guinevere then joined hands

and walked down the hill together

toward the sheep and toward Tiree.

The sun shone even brighter then

and vowed to keep watch

over these two joined lives.




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Word Play: Similarities

A fork-spoon combination used by Finnish military

A fork-spoon combination used by Finnish military (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Inspiration for this post comes from my prior post called “Opposites”.  Hope you will enjoy!

Large and big,

pork and pig.

Fork and spoon,

sun and moon.

Gray and black,

skill and knack.

Cap and hat,

mouse and rat.

Yellow and gold,

brave and bold.

Sleet and ice,

sweet and nice.

Phrase and word,

eagle and bird.

Fork-tailed Drongo (Dicrurus adsimilis)

Fork-tailed Drongo (Dicrurus adsimilis) (Photo credit: Lip Kee)

Now it’s time for this to end,

You’re in a new day now to spend.



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Another Pink Ribbon Day

English: pink ribbon

English: pink ribbon (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

published on debbieloeselstanton blog on 11/3/12.

“Another Pink Ribbon Day”

Now that October has come and gone,

The Pink Ribbon still has an important mission.

There are still breast cancer survivors

fighting for their lives

and other breast cancer survivors past the hurdle

doing all they can

to raise money for research, education

and patient care.

We wear pink ribbon clothes

and use pink ribbon goods

because we have formed an alliance

to let cancer know that we will defeat it.

We know not when, but

it will be done.

All the other colored ribbons

representing other cancers

need our support too.

We need to help others

so that they can afford medical care

for their treatment,

so parents don’t have to choose

between feeding their kids and getting treatment.

I thank all the corporations for funding research for us

and helping to raise awareness.

Dear Lord,

I pray for those who are dying from cancer,

that they receive hope and life on earth,

or with an ultimate healing in heaven.

Grant them strength and peace

and the same for their families and friends.

We know you’re not forgetting us Lord,

but it’s hard to believe sometimes

when things look grim.

We place ourselves in your capable hands

and even if we don’t know the outcome,

you do, and you will help us through.

Grant us to have one more pink ribbon day

and the promise for a better tomorrow.


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The Very Thick Door

Sometimes it is very tempting to live in the past.       

Or at least revisit it from time to time.

There is something that can help me to keep living in the present.

I imagine a very, very thick door

such as you would find in an ancient cathedral.

The door is very, very resistant to being opened.

The door handle’s brass is very, very thin and worn.

The door squeaks and shudders on its hinges with a terrible sound.

Once the door is opened, a whirlwind quickly draws you forward.

The door slams behind you with a thud

and you find yourself in an unending ocean

trying to balance on a log.

There is no island or boat near you.

All around you are clear waters that you can look through to the bottom.

There are many views of your past in full sight.

However, you must be careful:

if you try to jump to another log to get a different view,

you find yourself in quagmire that is as terrible

as quicksand.

Very quickly you realize that you are in

The Sea of Forgetfulness.

The bad memories are not in sight,

and the good memories give you comfort.


Even the good memories become more faint

as you live in the past.

People from your present cannot see or hear you,

and people from the past are likewise unavailable.

You are living in limbo

until you realize that your present life

is calling to you.

Even the good memories start to fade.

You have made peace with your past

before it completely faded from view.

Your present life is looking better and better.

Ah, the relief!

Why isn’t the past as good as we remember it?

Because the present is a different life now.

I quickly decide to get back to my present!

Just as I need her,

an angel shows up to open the big, thick door

with ease.

I am back – I am home.

I am on secure footing once again

and quite relieved to see what makes up my life

right here, right now.



A Breast Cancer Patient’s Prayer

English: The Auntie Jane Breast Cancer Wreath

English: The Auntie Jane Breast Cancer Wreath (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

A Breast Cancer Patient’s Prayer

—-  by Debbie Loesel Stanton


Oh dear God,

I haven’t talked to you in awhile,

but even if I had,

I would still feel like

I had been washed in a turbo washer

and hung out to dry, miles above the earth;

so totally alone,

even though I know you are actually with me

and I have my family and friends and care team pulling for me.

I hate it when people say

“It’s God’s will”, because I know

that you do not want people to hurt and get sick;

that’s just the way things go in this world.

God, my cancer isn’t your fault,

but can you please help me anyway?

I have many, many people and things to live for.

Can you make sure I can stick around here for awhile?

I want to make a bargain with you,

but that’s silly, because what do I have to offer you?

My faith and trust are on a downward slope right now,

they are threatening to disappear

like a rock on a slippery, icy mountain slope.

And, I also feel like I’m drowning;

please don’t let the waters of fear or illness

overtake me.

It’s been real hard to pray this, Lord,

because my thoughts wander all over the place;

my head is spinning and my nerves are as tight as violin or guitar strings.

I’m ready to explode into a great big puddle.

Please, please take your little girl’s hand

and lead her away from the shadow of death.

They say you’re walking with me through this valley,

but I don’t feel you, God!!  Please help!

Maybe someday when my thoughts aren’t so muddled

you can tell me why this is happening to me.

For now, I imagine me climbing up into your lap and being rocked to sleep

I know you care for me, it’s just very hard to believe that right now.

I know you understand…

Oh, and one more thing Lord.

Please keep these people away from me:

ones who say they know just what I’m going through,

when actually they have never had cancer.

And the ones who ask if I need anything but then don’t follow through,

also the ones who give me advice about wigs and breast reconstruction

because they have never had to consider these things.

In trying to be helpful, they say anything they can think of.

Help me to be patient with them; they know not what they do.

Help me to obey my doctor’s orders

so that this very long road will not have to be even longer.

Please help your little warrior fight this battle.

Now I lay me down to sleep,

I pray the Lord my soul to keep…


New Poem: Jewel*

English: Amethyst is best known as a purple ge...

English: Amethyst is best known as a purple gemstone, but it’s actually a purple variety of quartz. This type of quartz can occur in shades of light lilac, lavender, mauve, and deep purple. On the Mohs scale, which tests the hardness of minerals, amethyst has a Mohs scale of 7, which means it not as scratch resistant as topaz, and even less so than diamond. The two largest sources of amethysts are Brazil and Zambia. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)


A necklace in the spa’s display case

Mesmerized me with a strong pull.

I couldn’t look away

and was lost in its complexity.

The shape of the jewel, square,

did not remind me of your eyes,

but the depth and clarity of the stone

sure did.

Your eyes remind me of

a clear, rushing river

not polluted and bubbling with life and joy.

So pure and lovely to look into.

They say that eyes are the windows to the soul

and I have every reason to believe this is true.

Your eyes contain facets just like regular jewels do,

deep, warm and abiding.

Looking into your eyes makes me feel safe;

you have seen a lot of pain and wretchedness in your time

but still your love remains, and your beauty is inside and out.

It shines forth because you, after all, are a jewel.

— by Debbie Loesel Stanton

All rights reserved.

*  I am sure your people think of you this way, though it may remain unspoken.  🙂


Debb Will Practice What She Preaches!

Minnesota State Patrol

Minnesota State Patrol (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Howdy –

A Good Day

Tonight I was driving home from work, when on the highway I ran out of gas.

I tell you, the experience was more difficult than catching a bass.

I sat and waited for the “Highway Helper” once the state patrol called him to come,

As I grew faint from the high temps and felt so utterly dumb.

Mr. State Patrol advised me that pulling onto an off-ramp was not good enough,

he would give me just a warning this time but next time could be rough!

After ten minutes of waiting, I was all set to go and drove to a gas station one mile away.

Now I could go home and smile at the day.

It had actually been a very good day,

getting lots of work done and also having smiles and fun.

The positive part of this experience was:  I didn’t get a ticket.

Nicer than a poor deer getting caught in a thicket.

And you’re wondering, why does Debb often rhyme?

It relieves stress so that I can say, “Okay, happy life, one more time!”