She Journeys is a collection of short stories of the divine feminine spirit as she mysteriously appeared in the many lives of a man who sought love for centuries in search of a great love. She might be playing at Valentine’s Lounge, caught up in a reverie of romantic calling, or in a cross Atlantic night of love, tenderly… unfolding in a communion kiss.
“I lay still until the next point in time
What I understand is that love is total commitment
A boy follows the call
But a man won’t waste a woman’s time”
– She Journeys by Laura Botsford
Cover Painting by Billa Bozem
Personal copies for sale with inscription ~ firstname.lastname@example.org
I have long been a fan of poetry with music, there is a beautiful blend of nuance that intermingles with the notes of a song quite differently than if they were sung. My collaborative friends, Simon Reich and HamBa have come together to create this beautiful piece called, Sweetest Love.
The Festival of Pages was an annual celebration in Milka that people all over the Galaxy attended, and shared their rhymes, their stories, and their songs. It was a joyous occasion that not only celebrated their culture, but also held the sacred space of all imagination, and creative powers. The Ancient Ones had brought their stories with them, and each generation told them to each other. Every year new stories were imagined, shared and sung in plays, and performances in the Mingli Meadow. There were high flying acrobats, and spinning Ferris wheels that lifted one above the clouds, children played with homemade toys of ribbon wands, bubble globes, and rode on elephants and giraffes. The food carriages were loaded with Tipleah ale, and fresh fruits, vegetables, lightly scented lavender short breads, and almond cakes; their succulent deliciousness readied for mouth watering savored swallows. At the circle entrance were the drummers, and cantors welcoming all to the festivities, yelling out verse, and singing old folk songs from the first passage to Emeria.
The tribal nation harmoniously honored their people by keeping old traditions alive. The children were taught the pages from ancient days in their studies, in them all the mysteries of life that ever were known were passed down. The celebration culminated in the procession of The Tree of Leaves which was a tall tree with many branches, and on each leaf were the words from all the fairy tales and mythology ever to be written. Offerings were made of food, candles, incense of Tipleah, made from the oils of the natural flowers that grew on the Tree of Leaves, granted their exquisite scents to be embraced in the breeze.
I am an independent artist, that also is an Arts in Education Residency Artist with the Arkansas Arts Council, specializing in theater, books written with children and music.
In the span of a lifetime, with all our possibilities, dreams, and accomplishments, the one true guiding star for me has been and always will be; what has heart, bliss, and interest. I do what I love, I fill time with music and writing. Along the way, I try to be one little diamond dot in that guiding star called inspiration.
With tremendous excitement I have a new website with all my music on it, including two new, never heard before EP’s Poet Streets and Journey of Fairytales.
Poet Street embraces a romantic theme of two lovers who are reunited after a separation that left them empty. There is magic in the night as the city that once tore them apart now brings them back together. Classical/ Ambience and Jazz/Rock blend straight from the tap with all subsuming emotions as we trace their heart lines in notes that are at once soul searching, meshed inevitably in destiny.
The Journey of Fairy Tales epic orchestration for the future of all intuitive tales that ever were and ever shall be is an enchanted musical path of the most splendiferous and cinematic kind. Only the purest of intention can make the passage through the Linkalee Alignment to save the Book of Leaves, and recover the lost literature of the ancient ones. These songs are featured in part in an upcoming booktracks.com of Journey Fairytales in the Spring of 2018. It\ is written for all ages of make and believers in the Laws of attraction for an abundantly adventurous and cinematic read that is a guiding light uplifting read.
Quiet, simple is what I knew about it then. I could give you a past; I could give you today or recall the history of everyday people who meant something into my next encounter. It was my vocation just to be and see what happened. I was traveling the streets of San Francisco, checking out stores and restaurants, writing and observing. I was revived on Market Street, cut as fresh as the yellow and white daffodils that bloomed in their gypsy garden carts. How sweet is the bustle of 18 years of age? How new and fascinating the faces were to me, however weathered or broken. Their working days gone, old men, well beyond their present age, now sit in Union Square waiting for a hand out to buy another bottle of wine. Above the lonely din hovered one…
If you were following the Seattle scene in the 80’s, you most likely and luckily were inspired and moved by the music of Michael Tomlinson. I’ve just recently discovered his songs, and had only one thing to say to him, “Where have you been all my life!? I feel so fortunate to have stumbled upon his music on Pandora.” If you want to hear the folk pop we treasured back in the day, this is as good as it gets, and his facebook page is a delight to read. Yes, there are people who write in full sentences that resonates with human warmth. Michael is one of them. His new album is filled with mellifluous melodies and uplifting, poetic lyrics that will linger in your mind and move your spirit.
I am certain that the waters that flow into the veins of all mankind can feel the moment when awe and wonder reappear. There in a pocket, is a discovered button, a single peppermint scooped up and tucked away for another time when a sweet tooth calls for a refreshing ahah moment. The doorways of enchantment are seen in the corners of a room waiting for redecorating with live red berry vines carefully stapled into the kitchen window. In as much as there are dreams, and blue willow plates set out for tea; there are friends that come to visit.
On the balcony a man lights a candle in the moonlight, waiting for one encouraging call from a night owl that waits out the late with him in solid hoots that echo through the trees. No, I am not making this up, these moments happened. They are collected in my memory like a living scrapbook. I look up to the stars glinted and faceted as clouds mover through in an opalescent glaze of silver light, constant and unassuming of their sheer natural beauty. It comes to them in the original fire of that which they are born of and now live on in a new form.
Moving now into the golden turn where nothing is secret and only love prevails to hold us all together… I feel the kindness of lakes slowly swooshing sensually onto the shore. Out in the woods the leaves rustle and bend the tree to dance, “where are you it sings, where have you gone? Are you knotting the tails to the kite? Are you playing the song from the old 78? Have you read the cereal box today and drank the milk from the bottom of the bowl?”
Pieces of precious past times are neatly chipped out of my memory box, made into beads that I wear around my ankles to remind me of the time I walked barefoot through the grass.