blogging · poetry · Writing

The Lion

I met a lion once

Male lions are majestic, but still just big cats

He wasn’t my lion, you can’t keep a lion

(You also can’t keep a lyin’, but I digress)

I knew him as much as you can know a lion

Lions are wild animals

You should never let your guard down

But one time I forgot

The lion scratched me

It was an accident

You know, like when your house cat accidentally scratches you when you play?

That, but a lion’s claws are so much bigger

In time it would heal,

But the scar would remain

No one can see it

But I should’ve known better

Than to pet a lion’s mane

©️2025, itsamyisaid.com, all rights reserved

blog · Eastern Redbud tree · Fall · I love trees · Photography · poems · poetry · prose · Trees · Writing

One Last Time

Thank you for the gift

Of two more blooms

Off-season

Much too soon

But also too late

Much too late

From dead bark

Arises life

One last time 

ERJ, my eastern redbud that I’ve written about multiple times on my blog, has been slowly dying all summer and now into the fall. Strangely, he had the most beautiful blooms this year he’s ever had. This past spring, I mean. He’s got borers. They did their damage. I tried everything, but I couldn’t save him. I knew I wouldn’t be able to, but I tried anyway. The loss of this tree really hurts. Some parts of his branches are still pliable, but most are brittle. The bark now splitting from lack of life. But I noticed today a bright spot of pink. And then another. Arising from the broken, cracked bark and perched alongside seedpods as brittle as dead leaves, ERJ blooms one last time.

ERJ – photo taken October 10, 2025
ERJ – photo taken October 10, 2025

©️2025, itsamyisaid.com, all rights reserved

blog · butterfly · Grief · Love · Monarch butterfly · Nature · Nature photography · poetry · prose · Writing

Regina I

Butterflies don’t have norireceptors

They can’t feel pain

At least that’s what they say

They also don’t recognize human voices

Well, that’s what they say

I’ve only seen three this year

The most royal of all of the butterflies

I’m a finder of lost things and valuables that belong to others

And animals that are lost or hurt

I found her struggling on the sidewalk

I halted my walk in more ways than one

Scooped her up in my hands, and she desperately tried to fly

She had no visible injuries

Not to my eyes

I took her to my neighbor’s where I thought she might find some blooms

I offered her water from my tiny bottle cap

She did lap it up and for a moment, and I thought that was that

But she still could not fly

Even though she desperately tried

So I brought her home in a shoebox with some flowers

But that’s not the part I really want to talk about

I want to tell you how she recognized my voice and how her antennae responded when I talked to her kindly

I want to tell you she was perfect with not a spot on her to explain why she was dying

I pet her little body and talked to her sweetly

I told her she was beautiful, and although she couldn’t get to her destination

She would stay here with me

I hoped for a miracle overnight, but I knew better

At first light, I checked her shoe box and she was nearly dead, so weak she was, ants were crawling on her

I brought her in the house and showed her all the plants

I told her I loved her and would take care of her

I put her in a plastic bag and placed it in the freezer

(This is how to humanely euthanize butterflies when they are already dying)

I took her out twenty four hours later and laid her on the table. She looked the same, but her body wasn’t contorted anymore. Her antenna relaxed to a normal position rather than contracted in a sort of grimace

They say butterflies don’t feel pain. I don’t believe them.

I want to know why a beautiful, gentle creature meant to migrate thousands of miles only flew a few feet before starting to die

And other malevolent beings are granted the gift of a lengthy, destructive life

I want to know why

Regina trying to fly
Her shoebox full of blooms
Regina I,
 Danaus plexippus
blogging · books · chick lit · favorite author · fiction · history · non-fiction · Outlander · poetry · prose · reading · Short story · Writing · Zora Neale Hurston

Their Outlander Match

List three books that have had an impact on you. Why?

  1. Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston – this is my all-time favorite book. I needed three credits in English so I took a summer course at my university and was introduced to the Harlem Renaissance. It’s not an exaggeration to say it changed my life. There was something magical about Ms. Hurston’s use of language. It envelopes and evokes. I still have the copy of the book for that class tucked away safely on my bookshelf. I do not let anyone borrow it.
My copy has this cover

2. Outlander by Diana Gabaldon – this is my second all-time favorite book. I had no idea what I was getting into when I started this book and series. I sent an email to the author when I finished this book and she replied. I printed it out and tucked it into the paperback, which has been read so many times it’s earmarked with love. Yes, I have the rest of the books too. Yes, I waited for what felt like 65 years for the show to be created. Yes, I’m waiting on season eight during the usual Droughtlander. But, I should say upfront the books are nothing like the series because the books are typically 1000 pages of genius storytelling, and though the series is based on the books, it in no way comes close to the original. This book is impactful due to its ability for the reader to step through the stones, as it were. It’s a place to get lost in if you’re looking to get lost. 

This isn’t my copy – mine is old and well loved and also I do not think it states on the cover that it is a New York Times best seller

3. Love Match by yours truly

Yes, it might sound a little strange to say this book impacted me a great deal, but if you’ve written a book, you know what I’m talking about. It doesn’t matter if your book was published or not, if you have written a book and it is yours, it has changed your life. If you tell other people, and they read your book, it changes you even more. When people start to have opinions about your words, that is probably the greatest impact. It takes a lot of courage to write and have other people read what you’ve written. One could even call a blog a type of book. It’s a book that keeps writing itself each day. It’s something that means something to the writer, but also it’s something that the reader takes part in. And it takes courage from the author to post their words. Words on a blog can be equally if not more impactful than an entire bound book. But that’s a different subject for a different day.

My Book

Incidentally, when I was looking for an image of my own book to post here, I found out my book is being sold on eBay for $29.08. Just a suggestion: my book isn’t that expensive brand new. I’m not sure that the seller is going to make any profit after shipping – unless of course, they found a brand new copy of my book. But another question then begs to be asked: where is my royalty check?

Thanks?

©️2025, itsamyisaid.com, all rights reserved

blogging · book haul · books · daily prompt · poetry · prose · Writing

Just One Book

Do you remember your favorite book from childhood?

Are we talking about baby books that older adults read to you? Are we talking about the first book you read to yourself? Are we talking about the books you would buy at the Scholastic book fair? The fair they had every year in the trailer, and you would walk in and it would smell like new books and you knew this was your place? Or are we talking about books you read as an older child, the books that formed who you are and showed you other worlds can exist. And not only can you read them, you can write them.

I am sure they’re all in my memory somewhere, but they all exist as one.

art · art history · blogging · daily prompt · Grief · history · Love · non-fiction · poetry · Writing

The Pictures

What brings a tear to your eye?

“Would you like to have these pictures?

I’d like to give them to you.”

Pause and reflection

“Yes, I would like to have the pictures.“

You would bring them to me

Before you went to Italy

I saw you and did not cry

“Thank you for the pictures.”

They are very beautiful

I like to look at them

And

I hate to look at them

They make me cry.

©️2024, itsamyisaid.com, all rights reserved

(“of joy” has been removed from the title of this prompt)

AI art · AI images · birds · blogging · Hummingbirds · poetry · Summer · Writing

Not Now

Hummingbird AI art by Kevin

I waited, but you didn’t return

The clematis weren’t as tall

Nor as full

And they bloomed too early

Because of that heat wave

So soon

I missed you this year

But I still have your nest from last year

And I’ll save it forever 

Maybe I’ll see you next year

I really hope so

✨✨✨

This is my entry for Kevin’s NTT, 8/15/24 edition

©️2024, itsamyisaid.com

AI art · AI images · animals · art · birds · poetry · Writing

Jerome

This is my entry for Kevin‘s NTT 7/18/24 challenge

You have to say it like Elaine does

On Seinfeld

That’s how he got his name

His other claim to fame

Was dunking stale bagels in the birdbath

He doesn’t like to be told no

So now he follows me wherever I roam

Does Jerome

Outside, feeding the birds and the squirrels

I hear Jerome cawing

Above my head

At the local shopping center

He follows me there

He follows me here

He doesn’t seem to care

He’s my nemesis

And I’m OK with this

We shall never be friends

The grudge is permanent

Jerome has decided

This lady earned it

No sparkly objects will he ever give

To me or anyone that I know who will ever live

He will tell his children, and they will tell theirs

“That lady is mean

Don’t go near her

Don’t you dare

Of course we wouldn’t ever hurt her…

But remember boys and girls

Groups of crows are called murders”

©️2024, itsamyisaid.com, all rights reserved

Image ©️ thebeginningatlast

poetry · Writing

So go

Why don’t you ever stay gone?

Why do you come back to leave again?

This time for real

For far

“Birthday Week”

Was the ruse

Let’s not forget the drive-by in May

Stopped at the stop sign

And waited

Too cowardly to face me

Confident enough to stalk me

Let’s not forget: you emailed the same day

Wishing me a fine summer

Now that the winter is gone

Where were you

When I have been struggling

You intrude once again

Not to wish me a happy birthday

No

Not to tell me you’re sorry

For all of it

But to tell me you’re moving to Italy

Leaving the house you wouldn’t let go of

I bought you that special book

Imported from Italy

Because you wouldn’t go

You wouldn’t go

So go

©️2024, itsamyisaid.com. All rights reserved