Poetry by Mich
When the Hero Falls
we fall
we falter
we stumble
and as always,
we rise—
standing tall,
standing proud again;
for whatever happens,
we always have
someone who will
push us back
all the way up.
but what happens
when our hero
falters,
falls,
stumbles?
who do we turn to then?
For Violet’s Literary Quote Challenge
“fallen hero shatters into more sharp pieces than you’d believe.”- Barbara Kingsolver, Demon Copperhead
Blood-Red Roses
plant a bloody,
blood-red rose
upon my grave.
no fancy flowers,
no pearly white tulips.
i want bloody, blood-red roses—
for they signify my power,
my pride,
and the wars
i fought
and won.
each petal
a testament to a life
lived well.
though in silence
there was noise;
in peace,
there was chaos.
yet my life was nothing
but a steady calm
amid
a raging storm.
Your writing prompt this week is
RED
The Teacher Who Believed in Me Before I Believed in Myself
Long before I became a poet, a storyteller, or a writer, I was a performer.
I joined declamation contests and won. I became part of theater productions. For a time, I even imagined myself pursuing professional acting. Performance came naturally to me, long before I fully understood its power.
It All Began at Ten
I was ten years old when everything began.
That same year, my father discovered my gift for words and my ability to craft compelling verses. My mother, a schoolteacher, became my first coach. Under her guidance, I joined a district-level declamation competition—and won. I was the youngest competitor, facing students far older and more experienced than I was.
Winning at the district level meant moving on to a higher competition. But because of my age and lack of experience, many teachers doubted I could represent our district well.
All except one.
The Teacher Who Fought for Me
Ma’am Phoebe—Ms. Phoebs, as we fondly called her—fought fiercely for me. She believed I deserved the chance, regardless of my youth or inexperience. Together with my mother, she coached me patiently and tirelessly, pouring both skill and heart into every practice session.
What I remember most from that time is how much fun it was. Practice never felt heavy. Even on competition day, I felt excitement more than fear.
There were more than fifteen contestants, if I remember correctly. I performed second to the last. I was the youngest—and quite literally the smallest. The program ran late into the evening, with other categories still waiting to be announced.
Exhausted, I went back to our quarters and fell asleep.
In my ten-year-old mind, I was certain I wouldn’t win. So why stay awake?
“You Won!”
At midnight, I was jolted awake by excited screams outside. Three older girls—Guada, Darlene, and Judy (I often wonder where life has taken them)—came running in, shouting, “You won! You won!”
Ma’am Phoebe hugged me tightly and said:
“I knew it from the start. I never had a single doubt you would win.”
That hug stayed with me for years. So did her unwavering belief. At one point, she even joked, “I think you have the making of an actress.” And yes, Ma’am, I did try my hand at acting later on—though my father was firm that it wasn’t the path he wanted for me.
Carrying Her Belief Through Life
Life moved on. I left for the city to attend university, finished school, and continued building my life. Somewhere along the way, Ma’am Phoebe and I lost contact. But her belief never left me. Whenever doubt crept in—and it often does—I reminded myself that once, there was a teacher who believed in me when no one else did.
Meeting Her Again
Recently, I received an unexpected and beautiful gift: I met Ma’am Phoebe again after decades apart. The joy of that moment is hard to put into words. I had been looking for her for years—perhaps just in all the wrong places. Seeing her again felt like closing a beautiful, unfinished chapter from my childhood.
A Thank You That Still Echoes
Thank you, Ma’am Phoebe, for seeing me before I learned how to see myself.
Your belief in me ignited my passion for creativity and excellence—and it continues to fuel everything I do.
Blood Moon in Winter
winter grief
over a blood-moon bath
sadness drifts everywhere
piercing my veins,
breaking each inch of my being
winter grief
over a blood-moon bath
death settles on my shoulders
grieving grief itself—
never yet undone
For Sadje’s WDYS
The Ones Who Stayed With Me– Tour Stop 1
Welcome to the first stop on the WordCrafter The Ones Who Stayed With Me Book Blog Tour. We’re glad that you’ve joined us to send off these fantastic chronicles of a career care-giving with a bang, as we release Nurse Sammy’s debut book.
The Ones Who Stayed With Me, is a memoir-ish collection of essays, written by Nurse Sammy, a young woman entering the health care profession and rising to become a kind and caring L.P.N., and the experiences which shaped her into the nurse she is today. Whether you have worked in the health care profession, been a patient in the system, or just want a glimpse of the industry from the inside, this book has something for you. Some stories may make you laugh, others may make you cry, as Nurse Sammy tells her raw, heartfelt tales.
About The Ones Who Stayed With Me
Chronicles of the journey into the medical field as a young nurse and beyond, told with raw sensitivity and compassion. The Ones Who Stayed with Me offers small glimpses into the world of an L.P.N. put in difficult, often touching or humorous, situations—and Nurse Sammy’s courage, vulnerability, and insight are a gift to us all. In these pages, Nurse Sammy tells her story and that of those she met along the way.
Purchase Link:
https://books2read.com/OnesWhoStayed
Chapter Excerpt Reading of “The Year I Ate $2 Hotdogs”, by Nurse Sammy
https://youtu.be/oYiWOgGa36c
About Nurse Sammy
Nurse Sammy has spent her life walking the quiet edges of human suffering and human grace. Long before she ever wore scrubs, she learned how to read a room by the way someone breathed and how to steady a shaking hand. How to listen to the stories people only tell when they think it might be their last night to say them. Nursing wasn’t a career she chose; it was the language her heart was already speaking.
She has worked in places where life is beginning, and in places where life is ending; in rooms lit by hope, and in rooms where grief hangs heavy in the doorway. Rehab centers, memory care halls, pediatric units, assisted living, private homes, wherever someone needed gentleness, she went. She became the one who held vigil, the one who noticed the quiet details, the one who stayed.
Her personal life has carried its own ache, abuse survived, love lost, a marriage that bruised the soul, another built from healing, and a grief that still hums beneath her ribs. She writes from the tender, broken places, from the nights she rebuilt herself alone, from the mornings she rose anyway. Her words are shaped by both the wounds and the resilience that followed.
The Ones Who Stayed With Me is her first published work, a collection of truths disguised as stories, honoring the people who left fingerprints on her life in ways they never saw. Her writing is soft but unflinching, honest but merciful, threaded with the belief that even in darkness, someone is always holding a light.
Nurse Sammy lives in the Pacific Northwest, where she continues to care, to witness, to learn, and to turn the hardest parts of her journey into something that might help someone else breathe a little easier.
Wrap Up
That’s our tour stop for today. Thanks for joining us in the wonderful send off for Nurse Sammy’s book. She is a kind and caring person with something to share, and she gives in so many ways, not the least of which is the sharing of her story. Please leave a comment to let us know you were here supporting this young nurse and aspiring author. Comments also offer you a chance to win a free digital copy of The Ones Who Stayed With Me, and you can get one entry at every stop.
I also want to thank Michelle Ayon Navaras for hosting this stop and doing such a smashing job of setting it all up on three different blog sites: Poetry by Mich, Hotel by Masticadores & Masticadores Phillipines. Don’t forget to leave a comment for a chance to win a free digital copy of The Ones Who Stayed With Me. And, I hope you’ll all join us tomorrow, for Day 2 on the tour over on Writing to be Read, for an interview with Nurse Sammy and myself, Kaye Lynne Booth.
Give Away
Leave a comment for a chance to win a free digital copy of
The Ones Who Stayed With Me
By Nurse Sammy
One entry per stop.
Winners are chosen in a random drawing.
Sponsored by WordCrafter Press.
Tour Schedule
Mon. 12 – Poetry by Mich, Hotel by Masticadores & Masticadores Phillipines
Tues. 13 – Writing to be Read – Interview
Wed. 14 – Undawnted
Thurs. 15 – Book Places
Fri. 16 – Writing to be Read
_____________________________________
Book your WordCrafter Book Blog Tour today!
Nigel, a dear and wonderfully supportive poet friend, recently read one of my poems—one that explores the aching emotions of letting go and the loss of a loved one.
I am deeply honored to hear him give voice to these words.
Please visit his site and take a moment to listen to his beautiful reading.
Good morning, my fellow Wordsmiths. I hope that everyone had a wonderful week and has great plans for the weekend. Even if that means hiding away with a great book. Welcome to my weekly poetry reading session, Exploring Poetry, where I, with my gravelly voice, depending on the time of day I recorded the poem, […]
Exploring Poetry: A weekly reading series – Ep 2: This Cold by Michelle Ayon Navajas
Twelve Bells, One Silence
tick—tock. midnight strikes. New Year’s here.
the countdown fades; we wish for what’s best.
then tragedy arrives in that same breath—
a blessing disguised, or naked fear.
at the threshold of hope, loss appears.
one soul slips beyond reach.
grief learns our names,
marks the year,
yet—
For David’s Weekly Prompt
II. Carol Anne’s prompt guidelines
Write a Nonet about the new year — 2026. How does this year feel to you so far? Are you hopeful, uncertain, energized, reflective? Have you set any goals or intentions? Are there resolutions you’re excited (or nervous) about?
Let your poem capture your thoughts, expectations, and emotions as we step into this new year.
How to write a Nonet
The Nonet poetic form is simple and structured. It’s a 9-line poem, where each line follows a countdown of syllables:
• Line 1 — 9 syllables
• Line 2 — 8 syllables
• Line 3 — 7 syllables
• Line 4 — 6 syllables
• Line 5 — 5 syllables
• Line 6 — 4 syllables
• Line 7 — 3 syllables
• Line 8 — 2 syllables
• Line 9 — 1 syllable
You can write your nonet in any tone — reflective, hopeful, funny, anxious, determined — whatever feels true for you as 2026 unfolds.
“Snow Dreams and Ice Cream”
ice cream for the indulgent,
ice scramble for the crowd,
and ice candy pops
when you’re keeping it light.
at least that’s how we get a taste of snow.
the tropics don’t know winter,
no snowflakes at our doorstep,
but we’ve got every snow-inspired sweet
chillin’ in our kitchen fridge.
For Esther’s Prompt:
Your writing prompt this week is
SNOW
What could you do differently?
“I wouldn’t change a single thing about my journey—every event, every experience shaped who I am today. And I’m proud of the person I’ve become along the way.”
“No Fairytales Left”
i’ve seen the world
not as a fairytale,
though i wished—once—
it might become one.
i’ve met people without filters,
their truths unmasked,
and still i hoped
kindness lived somewhere beneath the skin.
i healed from wounds
most people flee from—
alone.
in silence.
in grief.
in despair.
so do you think
i’m still afraid
to fight another war?
hell no.
i’ve already survived
the battles
that were meant to break me.
A Seat Among Strangers
The afternoon drifted quietly, every head bowed in meditation, a hush stitched carefully into the air.
I arrived without sound, sliding into the last vacant seat, as though even my presence feared interruption. This was our final goodbye to a soul taken too soon, claimed by a heart attack—
innocent in name, cunning in cruelty.
We gathered to celebrate his life and legacy, while grief sat heavy in our chests, reminding us that love does not soften loss.
My eyes wandered through the church,
a sea of dainty white surrounding me,
while I wore the language of mourning—black, deep and unapologetic.
No one had told me.
No one thought to tell me.
And in that moment, clarity struck harder than grief: after years of loving them, I was never family. Never counted, never claimed. So as I said goodbye to the dead, I also released the living— taking one last look at the family I thought I had.
Rebecca Cuningham’s Poetry Challenge
Examples were first this time! Write poetic prose of 10–14 sentences about: change, a new road, a defining moment that influenced a new direction. Please turn in your poetic prose by Sunday, 11 January. You may publish the poem in the comments below or on your website with a link to this post and the hash tag #ffpoemapop Make sure to check out the roundup post 13 January and comment on your fellow poets’ work. Thanks.
I read Violet’s post on this prompt and I thought of joining in the fun
michnavs 