The Other Side Breathes
The Other Side Breathes—the title painting by Florida-based artist EmSi Storin & a poetic phrase that invites further exploration, seeking connection between places, people, and creative mediums.
Here, seven stunning watercolor creations come together alongside fourteen chapters of poetry by the Dandelion Scribes, in which the poets respond directly to the paintings, centering themes of nature, animals, kinship, care, creative flow, and self-love.
Below, EmSi’s artwork is followed by an in-depth Q&A with the artist herself, giving us insight into her painting journey as well as her relationship to creativity. Deeply inspired by the natural beauty of her home along the Nature Coast of Florida as well as living beings (both human and more-than-human) whose presence tells a story, EmSi sets the scene for a striking collection of poetry, bringing the hearts of many artists to beat together as one.
—Table of Contents—
Artwork by EmSi Storin
Artist Spotlight Q&A
The Other Side Breathes:
Poems by the Dandelion Scribes
Chapter 1: I Am the Horizon by Puanani Lalakea
Chapter 2: Magic Spells by George Fillingham
Chapter 3: Places No One Has Reached by Autumn Williams
Chapter 4: No Great Revelation by Joshua Walker, The Last Bard
Chapter 5: Yourself, Part of the Scenery by Amethyst Drake
Chapter 6: Progress and Colors by Dane Osborne
Chapter 7: The Bridge to the Other Side by Tanner Cooper-Risser
Chapter 8: The Existence of You by Rhonda Kendziorski
Chapter 9: It Blooms in June by Brandy Warren
Chapter 10: Forgiveness is a Bridge by Erin Wilbanks
Chapter 11: Limerance by elsie eros
Chapter 12: Point of View by Randi Winters
Chapter 13: A Thousand Suns by Angelia Ross
Chapter 14: Color & Creation by the dithyrambler
𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘
Artwork by EmSi Storin
Anhingas This Way and That
The Other Side Breathes
Morning at Floral Park
Dean-NOse
Manatee Beneath the Surface
Mother's Kiss
Self-Portrait
Artist Spotlight
Q&A with EmSi Storin
Question 1: How long have you been painting? How did your painting journey begin?
Art arrived in my life almost like a storm of its own—sudden, powerful, and impossible to ignore. Or maybe, in the truest sense, art found me.
For a long time, I had been craving a creative outlet without fully understanding what I was missing. Then, on August 30, 2023, Hurricane Idalia made landfall about an hour north of my home in Florida. The stress was intense. Landfall was close, and we were caught on the “ugly” side of the storm. As the weather raged outside, I found myself fixed on the radar map, watching bold, electric colors spiral across the state.
There was something mesmerizing in that swirling shape—chaotic, beautiful, and strangely calming. While the storm was still unfolding outside, I sat down and began drawing that motion over the outline of Florida. That became my first piece of “grown up” art, and from that moment forward, I have painted every single day.
Question 2: Where are you currently located? How does the place that you live inform your painting?
I live on Florida’s west coast, in a region known as the “Nature Coast,” and it constantly feeds my imagination. The wild beauty here—the water, light, birds, animals, and lush landscapes—shows up again and again in my work. Florida’s natural world is not just my backdrop; it is one of my greatest muses.
Question 3: What inspires you to create?
I create because my creative soul demands it. After years without a true artistic outlet, discovering watercolor felt like opening a door I did not realize I had been standing in front of all along.
Question 4: Who are your most prominent artistic influences?
I am inspired by artists whose work feels alive with color, movement, emotion, and freedom—especially Carol Carter, Angela Fehr, Lorraine Simonds, and Buffy Kaufman.
Question 5: Describe the role that art & creativity occupy in your life.
Art brings a beautiful balance to my life. It gives my structured “engineering brain” room to soften, loosen, and make space for my “artist brain” to flow freely.
Question 6: Are there any certain themes that you tend to gravitate toward in your work?
I am especially drawn to living subjects—wildlife, beloved pets, and people. Anything with personality, presence, or a story behind the eyes tends to pull me in. Landscapes and beautiful skies also speak to me.
Question 7: What advice would you give to someone who has always wanted to paint (or practice another form of art) but doesn’t know where to start?
Start before you feel ready. Pick up the brush, make the first mark, and give yourself permission to explore. You may surprise yourself—and you will never know what is waiting for you unless you begin.
Question 8: What are your goals as an artist?
My goal is for my art to connect with people in a meaningful way—to make them pause, feel something, and see beauty a little differently. I also hope my creative work can help support my husband and me financially in retirement. I think of this chapter as my “What Comes Next,” and I am excited to see where it leads.
Question 9: What are some of your other interests and hobbies outside of painting?
Outside of painting, I love PC gaming with my husband, watching movies, and spending time with our four wonderful kitties—each with their own big personality.
Question 10: How can we keep up with your art and follow your creative journey?
Instagram @emsi.studios or my website EmSistudios.com.
The Other Side
Breathes
—Poems by the Dandelion Scribes—
Chapter 1: I Am the Horizon
by Puanani Lalakea
I AM THE HORIZON
inspired by The Other Side Breathes
I am the horizon
The indivisible marriage
of Heaven and Earth
There
Obvious
AND
a breath beyond
my ability to imagine
I know
I am not
the static line
others say they see
I know
I still breathe
on the other side
I am
the ripple
the dynamic dance
But, oh, Future Me
Help me to see
who
I AM
on the other side
. . .
My Sweet Love
Know
You are perfection
The unknowable
The in between
The paradoxical promise
Always present
Ever becoming
Chapter 2: Magic Spells
by George Fillingham
INTO A MAGIC SPELL
inspired by The Other Side Breathes
Entering the magic spell was like crossing
a stone bridge without an arch beneath.
Each step felt secure until the floating
sensation occurred.
Below, the brook stood still.
The bridge was all that moved.
By mid-bridge I was already across.
The many insects
stared at me like I was food.
But nothing touched me. I was
too enthralled. I smelled of spell.
My brown eyes were blue.
⚘
BURNING EYES
inspired by Anhingas This Way and That
I love the long-necked birds.
Since childhood I knew them from field guides.
On our way to my gramma and grampa’s house
I always looked for the Great Blue Heron
wading in the marsh beside the airport.
That meant we were almost there.
Grown up, I kept my love of birds
but stretched away from simple identification
to ornithology and science.
My grampa built a cottage by a lake called Sage Lake.
This is where I learned so much about
the embroidery of life and death,
that things you love can pass away.
When my grampa died, I lived down in Kentucky.
I often saw Anhinga on the Cumberland River,
one so close to me his eyes burned.
(My grampa haunts me for my own reasons.)
I begged it to depart. I could no longer bear
our eyes to touch.
⚘
LABYRINTHINE MAN
inspired by Morning at Floral Park
A single tree in a meadow green.
The fence around secures the scene.
The Spanish Moss that drapes the branches
absorbs the beating sun as it blanches
the meadow into a bronze-like sheen
where once a man became labyrinthine,
that is, he spoke the truth from the tree and died.
And still we search the world wide
because he hid it in plain sight—
a tree in a meadow by day or by night.
Chapter 3: Places No One Has Reached
by Autumn Williams
IN YOUR EYE
inspired by Dean-NOse
Oh, are you talking to me now?
Your eyes are deep as a trench.
I see schools of fish swimming
near the upper depths.
I imagine
there are undiscovered species
in places no one has reached yet.
Maybe they all have rainbow scales.
Remember when you gave me that fishbowl
with one of your fish
that matches its twin in your eye?
Your poetry makes me grin but I won't laugh.
⚘
EXCEPT FOR
inspired by Morning at Floral Park
The music is too loud
and too quiet.
I can't get it adjusted right.
I don't want to listen to these songs.
I need a new melody,
but no one has written the one I want yet.
It's sad with a feeling of floating
and has all the right words
except for your name.
⚘
WE DRANK ITS COLD WATER
inspired by The Other Side Breathes
My bed was made of leaves, and I spent hours
collecting its pieces to make a cushion, and a covering.
You found me there
in the early morning and laughed.
I said I needed a couple more hours sleep, and you waited
for the sun to get brighter and wake me.
We walked to a stream and drank its cold water.
I told you stories of my dreams,
edited to how I wished they were,
and I explained all the differences I made up.
You told me my eyes looked
very strange in the daylight, and I said
that stopped bothering me a long time ago.
⚘
DOORWAYS
inspired by Anhingas This Way and That
What hours repeat?
What worlds repeat?
(I think some banished time.)
Are heaven spaces invisible, or only too far to see?
Who has access to the doorways?
Would they speak with me?
⚘
NEVER SEPARATE
inspired by Self-Portrait
I feel eternity—
how it stretches out
so far behind me—
all that life—
together
and then apart
but never
separate.
I sense it ahead of me—
going on
forever
beyond
what I can see.
Chapter 4: No Great Revelation
by Joshua Walker, The Last Bard
THE SHELL
inspired by Dean-NOse
You keep staring at me
like I came home wearing someone else’s face.
You know the smell.
You know these hands
have opened cans,
thrown balls,
scratched the impossible place
behind your ears.
You know my voice
even when it comes from somewhere
deep inside the walls.
Still,
you stand three feet away
and study me.
Nose working.
Eyes asking a question
I don’t know how to answer.
Where is he?
I want to tell you
I don’t know.
I remember being him.
I remember laughing
without first deciding whether laughter
was worth the effort.
I remember getting out of bed
because morning meant something
other than surviving until night.
I remember you running toward me
without hesitation.
Today
you approach slowly.
One paw.
Then another.
The careful investigation
of an abandoned house.
Finally
you climb beside me
and place your head against my chest.
Maybe you hear something.
Some movement behind the walls.
Maybe you recognize
the heartbeat
even if you no longer recognize
the man carrying it.
You close your eyes.
I understand.
You are going to love the shell
until I come home.
⚘
WHERE THE WORLD ENDED
inspired by The Other Side Breathes
Every small town has a place
where the world ends.
Ours was the bridge.
Nobody told us
not to cross it.
They didn’t have to.
Everything we knew
was on this side.
School.
Church.
The gas station.
The creek.
The houses of every person
whose last name mattered.
Across the bridge
was geography without witnesses.
So naturally
we filled it with monsters.
Billy said wild dogs lived there.
Someone’s older brother
said a man with a shotgun
waited in the trees.
There were witches,
escaped convicts,
bottomless wells,
and one summer
a panther,
because children understand
that unexplored land
should at least have a panther.
We would ride our bikes
right to the edge,
put one sneaker against the bridge,
then turn around.
Years later
I came back in a car.
I don’t remember deciding
to cross.
The bridge took twelve seconds.
On the other side
a woman watered petunias.
A man dragged his trash bin
toward the road.
There was a Dollar General
six miles farther down.
That was it.
No monsters.
No edge.
No great revelation.
Just more world.
I drove for miles
thinking about all the places
I’d been afraid to enter
because once,
when I was small,
I learned that not knowing
what was on the other side
was reason enough
never to cross.
⚘
THE AUDACITY OF FLOWERS
inspired by Morning at Floral Park
Somewhere this morning
a city is burning.
Somewhere
a doctor closes a door
before saying the word.
Somebody is learning
that love can end
while both people remain alive.
Somebody is hungry.
Somebody is making money
from the hunger.
Somebody has invented
a newer, cleaner way
to kill somebody
whose name they will never know.
And here
these fucking flowers
have opened.
Pink.
Yellow.
Red.
Absolutely shameless.
I want to ask them
if they haven’t heard.
Don’t they know
what kind of place this is?
Don’t they understand
we have built machines
for suffering
and monuments to the people
who operated them?
Don’t they know
a mother somewhere
is screaming into a telephone?
Apparently not.
They keep turning
toward the sun.
A bee disappears
inside one
and comes back powdered with gold.
For years
I mistook beauty
for evidence
that the world was good.
It isn’t.
Maybe that’s why
the flowers matter.
They cannot stop the bomb.
They cannot cure the child.
They cannot make us kinder.
They can only open.
Again.
Again.
Again.
The world has given them
every reason not to.
They bloom anyway.
⚘
ALL FACING EAST
inspired by Anhingas This Way and That
Nobody takes your individuality
all at once.
That would be noticeable.
Instead
someone laughs at your shirt,
so you stop wearing it.
Someone rolls their eyes
when you mention the song you love,
so eventually
you stop mentioning it.
You learn which opinions
make the table quiet.
Which jokes earn admission.
Which parts of yourself
need sanding.
And belonging feels good.
That’s the part
nobody puts on the inspirational posters.
The flock is warm.
The flock warns you
when predators come.
The flock knows
where food is.
At night
there are bodies beside you.
Being yourself
can be terribly cold.
So when everyone turns east,
you turn east.
Maybe you even convince yourself
you wanted to see the sunrise.
Years pass.
One afternoon
you notice a bird
facing west.
Everyone calls him difficult.
Attention-seeking.
Strange.
He probably is.
He is also watching
a sunset
none of you can see.
For a moment
you remember something.
A shirt.
A song.
Chapter 5: Yourself, Part of the Scenery
by Amethyst Drake
TAKE A WALK
inspired by The Other Side Breathes
Take a walk
Along the cobblestone road
down by the crystal water
and breathe
inhale gratitude
exhale all the rest
Surrounded by perfect Autumn
be still with the crisp, cool air
take in the rich hues
living color etched on the face of Heaven.
You belong here
on this particular path
which only you can walk
At one with all that exists
Being, yourself, part of the scenery.
Don’t rush to the other side.
Thrive.
You only get to walk here once.
⚘
SHE
She cries tears of copper fury
when the rains fall
Ever in her face
Forgotten, even in her own dream
of pale lilies and turpentine
Screaming at the appropriate volume
so not to cause a scene
But inside, she BURNS
Under the influence of arson
she incinerates expectations
becoming her one true self
Thriving
Arriving, fully present in the moment
like a butterfly ripped from its cocoon
Someday someone will tell her she’s beautiful
and she will glow
with all the fierceness of a thunderstorm in June
She is pride.
She is power.
She is progress.
Chapter 6: Progress and Colors
by Dane Osborne
PROGRESS AND COLORS
This world, populated by the bungled and the botched
is best explained
By the notion of progress: When something comes from nothing
And then breathing life-forms spawn and mutate
Other breathing life-forms perpetually non-stop
Until the inevitability of extinction
Before the birth of new different life-forms afterwards.
None of us walking upright conscious apes of nature
Ever understand a single thing about
the meaning of this progress
As we create colors with our eyes
And give birth to the survival of monstrosity
and buy shiny glittery things
And kill ourselves over people we never really knew
And make soft innocent love
under a dark purple blanket of starlit sky with no conscience of ourselves.
We only know what we've created......we don't know the future and we don't know our origins.
We are what happens when progress and colors
Become one and the same.....
I don't understand nothing else.
Chapter 7: The Bridge to the Other Side
by Tanner Cooper-Risser
THE BRIDGE TO THE OTHER SIDE
inspired by The Other Side Breathes
I
Walk
One side
Filled with life.
I hear the birds sing,
I enjoy time with my sweet kids.
I walk hand in hand with my best friend, my dearest love.
And yet, sometimes, I hear the calls from the other side; across the bridge where the sun shines.
The edge of the passing feels dark and foreboding, but as one goes farther they begin to feel the warmth of the sun and their love's deep embrace.
But I am needed here still, my time has not come. I will be ready when it arrives.
I am delighted with life both here and over there.
Embracing the mysteries of
The bridge of our lives
Leading to
The Worlds
In
Side.
Chapter 8: The Existence of You
by Rhonda Kendziorski
THE MAGIC OF A MOTHER’S KISS
inspired by Mother’s Kiss
A mother’s kiss, a seemingly simple gesture,
placed gently on a child’s forehead, holds a special magic
It’s a balm for soothing scraped knees and broken hearts
A warrior’s seal vowing to protect you at any cost
Transmitting the energy of ancestors
and breaking generational curses
Reconciling the past with future intentions
It is a promise to love you forever
Offering a soft place to land in a tumultuous world
A barricade against waves of harshness
It instills confidence and courage to be yourself
Reassurance that everything will be OK, one way or another
A mother’s kiss is a token of appreciation
to God for the existence of you
⚘
COSMIC NEW YEAR
Birthdays are worthy of celebration
Enjoy them as they come and go
Each one could be the last
We truly never know
Don’t let that cause despair
Be enchanted with life
and all its possibilities
Marvel at the moon
Enjoy every sunset you can
Appreciate all your experiences
as pebbles on the path of a bigger plan
Make the most of your stay on this earth
Growing in wisdom as the sun revisits
its position in the hour of your birth
With the passing of time
Your purpose becomes clear
Embrace each birthday
It’s your cosmic New Year!
Chapter 9: It Blooms in June
by Brandy Warren
UNDER THE MIMOSA
inspired by Morning at Floral Park
It blooms in June—the Mimosa tree.
Its sweet perfume rides on the wind
driving her to hunt for it.
There it is, blossoms in clusters, each on
pencil-lead-sized green stem.
Blossoms long, softest, brush bristles of
dark pink tips, fading to palest pink to
palest yellow, a sunset bloom.
It was under the Mimosa he kissed her,
tree's low, sweet-blossom-ladened branches
hiding his zeal, his zest, his passion.
She waits, snapping off, smelling a blossom,
gazing out through a limb and wonders:
If I see him walking to the Mimosa,
what will I do? Hide? Run? Protest?
Oh, no. Never.
I will smile, wait for him to come to me,
to kiss me again, under the Mimosa.
⚘
WHEN ALL THE WHILE
inspired by Morning at Floral Park
Breeze carries smell of pine
and she lives again on wooded land,
feeling hot sun rise through pine trees
on their mountain.
She will go to her garden,
it plowed, planted by him,
pick corn, beans, tomatoes,
cook them, can them,
all the while feeling pine tree air
caress her skin, watch it tickle ears
of cows, lift mane of horses,
ruffle feathers of chickens.
She will go with him up their mountain,
hold hammer and staples, wait,
watching his strength, as he stretches
to posts a cow-trampled fence.
She will sit beside him on a tussock of moss,
chewing fried egg sandwich,
telling him she loves their mountain,
watching cloud shadows undulate
across their valley's hills below.
She will smell him, his unique, seductive
scent and believe it was his smell alone
that brought beauty into her life,
when all the while it was the smell of pine.
Chapter 10: Forgiveness is a Bridge
by Erin Wilbanks
FORGIVENESS IS A BRIDGE
inspired by The Other Side Breathes
i.
If forgiveness were a bridge,
it would be made of
delicate bougainvillea, home to
precarious thorny vines: few,
mighty.
You could craft it
petal by petal,
inch-by-inch
with the utmost intention.
ii.
You may ask yourself,
Am I willing to stop scratching at this open wound?
[What wants to be forgiven?]
As you cross the bridge,
carefully weaving vine with rope
or maybe chicken-chimney wire —
What can be freed one support at a time?
For you, I’d guess it’s anger,
directed solely inward.
iii.
Forgiveness would whisper,
It is time.
Forgive yourself for the fixing,
the chasing, the unkindness.
You’ve let grief suspend you here far too long.
And I must say the word Grief.
For painting it in soft, palatable, poetic
terms helps no one. We’ve been
victimized by the treacherous approach.
iv.
Forgiveness begs for apologies.
I am sorry for every decision that has been unloving, ill-willed.
Walls
are not
safety.
Let your self-harm drop
into the river below.
v.
And when you get t i
r
e d
of constructing & crafting
this creeping bridge,
let yourself descend
into the waters beneath.
Cleanse
yourself of the punishing.
⚘
BEFORE THE BEES
inspired by Morning at Floral Park
Swamped in woods
he remembers,
the ghosts of many men.
Who sang with him
in bald cypressed lands.
Tormented his dreams,
snaked in liminal spaces.
Called out his name —
his old one, anyway.
Looked him dead
between dark eyes & knew him
before he claimed himself.
Now, he rests against the magnolia tree, recounting his ghosts. Before the bees visited him, before the remembering,
before the doubt of younger days.
He listens for solace
in solitude, & only
lusts in his loneliness—
a twisted, perverted thing.
Chapter 11: Limerance
by elsie eros
LIMERANCE
inspired by The Other Side Breathes
the other side breathes and
there is air in me that moves
only for you—
asks the flame to climb, to
consume my mind, to re-
arrange time: once again i am
lost in the loop—lingering
within another maladaptive
daydream about you—
escaping
to closets & corners
of various venues—
across the liminal bridge.
i’d invite you in
to swim—in the waters
i’ve imagined
and though this is forbidden,
i see the beauty
in the thirst.
i want to be the woman
who brings you back to earth—
who lets you sweat
all over her skin,
leans to lick
the salt off your neck,
bites the blood
from your lip
and savors
the mess.
Chapter 12: Point of View
by Randi Winters
DEAN KNOWS
inspired by Dean-NOse
Looking at me
Looking at you
It’s rare I see your point of view
I confess, that as a cat
I don’t often consider that
As we sit and stare and stare
I hope you know
Deep down I care
The moment gone
It’s time to go
Funny, I never did hear
“No”.
Chapter 13: A Thousand Suns
by Angelia Ross
THE TRAIL AHEAD
inspired by The Other Side Breathes
After eating a snack of cheese,
Crackers and chocolate chips,
I continue my hike across the meadow,
Until I step onto the little stone bridge
That crosses the creek.
Then I stop to look for minnows
And crawdads in the crystal clear water.
But today they seem to be on vacation
Or maybe they're just hiding out
Underneath the creek rocks.
Oh, well, maybe I'll be able to catch them
The next time I pass this way.
After I finish crossing the bridge,
I continue on down the path
That I've traveled a hundred times before.
A path I have seen in Winter,
Summer, Spring and Fall.
But today is a real treat.
The sky is cloudless
And the prettiest shade of blue
And the birds are singing to beat sixty.
Except for the woodpecker
Hammering away in the distance.
And the tall Georgia pines
Sway in the cool breeze,
While the red, orange, yellow,
Green and brown leaves
Of the other trees rustle and tinkle.
And sitting up high in a sycamore,
Is a grey squirrel that's barking
And flicking its tail at me.
But I just laugh at him
As I keep moving along
At a leisurely pace
Because there's no to-do list.
And there isn't any noise from phones,
People, trains, planes or other
Modes of transportation.
It's just time, me, the forest,
The animals, the birds
And the trail ahead.
⚘
ANHINGA GOES AROUND
inspired by Anhingas This Way and That
On the record label,
An Anhingas's head
Surrounds the hole
Through which the turntable's
Spindle must go.
Now, put the record on.
Flip the switch,
And watch that Anhinga
Spin around and around
As if he's on a school's
Merry-go-round.
But please don't watch
Him for too long,
Because if you do,
The room will begin to spin,
Then the next thing you know
You're waking up on the floor,
With a deuce of a headache.
Can someone please get me
Some ibuprofens?
Oh mercy, please don't
Talk or think too loud.
Ok—note to self: never again
Watch the Anhinga spin
Around and around.
⚘
HER SMILE
inspired by Self-Portrait
Her smile was as bright
As a thousand suns,
Filling those around her
With happiness, hope,
Love and peace.
⚘
MEMORIES OF KISSES
inspired by Mother’s Kiss
Sometimes as I'm watching people,
I will see a mother kissing her child,
And it takes me down memory lane.
Memories of me and my Momma,
But I cannot find any memories
Of her kissing me.
And for a moment I feel sad.
Then suddenly flashes of memories
Appear—memories of my Granny
Kissing my cheeks and my injuries
To make them all better.
And I don't feel sad anymore.
For Granny in my eyes was my Mom
Because she raised me
And gave me so much love
That Mommy never giving me kisses
When I was a child never really mattered.
⚘
CAT’S THE BOSS
inspired by Dean-NOse
I've got my eye
On you, Human Mommy,
Who is still fast asleep
Beneath the covers.
But I'll fix that in a jiffy.
First I will nibble your ear,
And you will begin to stir.
Then I’ll nibble your nose,
But none too gently.
Now, you're wide awake,
And it's way past time
For my morning num nums.
You stretch and yawn
As you're putting strange
Things on your feet.
We've made it down stairs,
But you aren't going fast
Enough to suit me.
So I began meowing non-stop,
And rubbing against
The backs of your legs.
But when you finally make it
To where my bowl is,
You walk right by it
Without a single glance.
Instead, you fill a monster
With water and black powder,
Then it begins gurgling and groaning
And putting off a foul stench.
And here I am meowing and yammering,
But Human Mommy you still don't
Give me my num nums,
No siree bob you doesn't.
You just sit down and put your
Head in your hands.
And I am one ticked off kitty.
Maybe I shouldn't give you
The present that I got for you.
But oh, what the hey,
Might as well give it to you.
You might get the lead out then.
Taking it from my hidey hole,
I lay it on naked part of your foot.
I look up so innocently.
You look down so sleepy.
Then all of a sudden
Your chair flies backward,
Banging loudly on the floor,
And you let out a scream
That nearly scares me
Right out of my fur.
You mean old Mommy!
It's just a little mouse.
There's no need to freak out
And nearly make me lose
My beautiful, shiny coat.
See if I bring you anymore presents!
After drinking two cups
Of black liquid that the gurgling
And groaning monster spat out,
You finally give me my num nums,
And I'm gobbling them down
As you’re going out the door.
Aww, peace and quiet at last.
I run into the bedroom,
Jump up on the bed
And snuggle as deep as
Possible into your pillow.
Now, that I'm nice and comfy
Might as well take a wee nap.
But the wee morning nap
Turns into an all-day nap.
I stretch. I yawn.
Then jump up on the windowsill
And watch the birds flock to the feeder.
When you, finally, come rushing back in
With your arms full of bags
And your short dark hair
Is sticking up every which way,
You put the bags on the table,
Get something out of the big cold box,
And take a very long drink,
Which ends with a sigh.
Then you put soft num nums in my bowl,
And scratch me behind my left ear.
Oh, Human Mommy that feels so good.
Before long, night has fallen.
You crawl into bed.
And pick up something you call a book.
I've got my eye on you, Human Mommy,
I meow peering at you over
The foot of the bed.
Finally, I get your attention.
You look at me. And I look at you.
“Come on you spoiled rotten child,"
You say, patting the covers beside you.
You don't have to tell me twice,
But at first I don't lay down
Because I have to show my Human Mommy
How much I love you with kisses,
Hugs and a massage.
Really, the only thing that matters
Is our love for each other.
Oh! And num nums!
Chapter 14: Color & Creation
by the dithyrambler
QUESTIONS AT THE CROSSING
inspired by The Other Side Breathes
It appears as though
we have arrived . . .
Might we leave our amnesia behind?
Let it lie,
& bleed upon the first stone
as we carry
only the beautiful, only
the necessary
back into the haven we abandoned,
the garden we once knew.
Might we cross the border of the story—
find ourselves defenseless in the forest
and return
the truth of our bodies
to older
memory?
Might the bridge be a metaphor
for what we build & how
we move within ourselves?
Might the orange glow of sun
hanging low in autumn sky
lead our souls through weeping
winter & through the laborious birth
of the next scorching summer?
Might connection come through
community? Might healing happen
naturally?
The answers swirl and pulse from my own self:
Breath circling.
Heart centered.
The cycle, the rhythm—
restored.
⚘
MANATEE
inspired by Manatee Beneath the Surface
You bring a certain joy to living
that I never would have witnessed
without the delicate hand
of the painter who peeked
beneath the surface
and glimpsed your happy gaze.
I cannot feel your shape,
your weight; but I can see
the ocean in your eyes,
watch your face trace
the unending expanse
of wonder held within
the water—
and my mind meets
the mother. We
are her children.
We are color &
creation. We are
wild, and we
are one.
⚘
SNAKE BIRDS
inspired by Anhingas This Way and That
Have you seen the snake birds
swim? Anhingas, this way
and that, with heads poking
out of the water like little
Loch Ness Monsters,
holding something
ancient in their eyes.
Their necks slither as they
shake the lake from
form and feather,
stare ahead—unblinking,
red—
refusing the translation
of secrets.
⚘
EMSI
inspired by Self-Portrait
She is the author
of her own light.
She is the artist
with hands of sight—
creating an image
that speaks as it flows.
Water will move you
as wisdom unfolds,
blooming bright color
from center to end.
She paints with purpose
and a message to send.
To reach for the heart
and touch what’s inside,
She shares her whole soul
and lives like a guide,
watching, protecting,
connecting what lives
to a generous power
that loves as She gives.
𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘
With endless love & gratitude,
the Dandelion Scribes
P.S. — Don’t forget to check out our submissions page, where we post our open Calls for Submissions. There will be new poetry prompts as well as artwork for inspiration going up soon! Subscribe to receive announcements by email.
