Marilyn Glover
Bio
Poet, writer, & editor, writing to uplift humanity. A Spiritual person who practices Reiki and finds inspiration in nature.
Mother of four, grandmother of two, British American dual citizen living in the States
Achievements (11)
Stories (290)
Filter by community
A Pair of Black Cats
Many moons ago, in a suburb of Pennsylvania, there once lived an intriguing pair of black cats. Matilda and Mildred were the only survivors in a litter of ten, born of a sickly mother. Matilda, the oldest by three minutes, was long and lean, quick-witted and agile. Unfortunately, she also had a bit of an attitude problem and was abrupt with her words. Mildred, on the other hand, was short and stout, solid and sentimental. She could chat for hours, loving meaningful conversation.
By Marilyn Glover4 years ago in Fiction
It's Time to Stop Dancing Around the Subject
Nylah threw back her third shot of fireball while her best friend, Yasmine, continued to flirt with the bartender. Yasmine tossed her long lavender-dyed coils over her bare shoulders as she leaned in closer to the handsome young fellow mixing drinks. Her white tube-top left little to the imagination as her cleavage peeked over like mountain summits. But of course, she knew what she was doing, and the man was happy to oblige.
By Marilyn Glover4 years ago in Fiction
The Last Sunflower
I can still feel the energy surging through my veins in a fireball explosion as a sheet of blue electricity struck down from the heavens immobilizing me. I will never forget the smell of my long black hair singeing at the tips or the sight of a smoke bomb escaping every threaded inch of my clothing. An eternity of torture amassed in moments yet I survived. Physically, I escaped with burns only to my palms. Mentally, my brains were fried and scrambled like freshly cut potatoes sizzling in oil and my morning eggs prepared just the way I like them. A decade ago, this was my ascending orchestrated by The Creator calling me to rise for the sake of humanity.
By Marilyn Glover5 years ago in Fiction
Who Is She?
A sweet little girl smiled at me this morning Beaming from ear to ear with such radiance She stirred up feelings of safety and warmth Likened to shelter of any welcoming home * Although a stranger, I could not shake her My heart yearning for answers questioned Of all people in this world, why this child? Something was familiar yet still out of place * Leaving me with the a weighted burden And an unanswered question: Who is she? * Perhaps it was her golden spun pigtails Gentle spirals bouncing off her shoulders Soft and spongey like shortcake springing Back after a gentle push with one finger * Her coils reminded me of my childhood Mornings, wakening, leaping out of bed Bounding to the television set greeting Bugs Bunny & all his Looney Tune pals * Memories of a savory taste yet unfulfilled Starving to still understand: who is she? * Maybe it was her hazel eyes swirling Jade & coffee tones speckling bronze Her eyes were twins to my very own But hers were a widened revelation * Water encircled each iris overflowing Like a river feeding an ocean of dreams Two twinkling stars shining her emotions She held an ever gaze of wonder & surprise * Seeing her so clearly ignited my smoldering coals A burning desire; innate, to know: Who is she? * Perchance, it was her incorruptibility A tender age of innocence exploring All options without resistance or fear Oblivious to all judgement or rejection * Her soul was free and most willing Not shrouded in shame or confined Instead, poised & buoyantly soaring To heights often avoided with age * Her ambiance struck a buried chord in me Recovered notes responding to" who is she”? * A sweet little girl smiled at me this morning At first sight she was just a pleasant stranger Inviting me to know her better prompting Another look into my mirror to fairly reflect * She sat there staring back at me urging Me to remember; once again connect Too many years passed by dismissing The inner child in me longing for freedom * A promise to let her play releasing repression Reunited me with the she who is in fact, me!
By Marilyn Glover5 years ago in Poets
I Am Ready for the Revival of Modern Subculture in 2021
I was born in 1971 and from early childhood I developed a love for fashion. Having a talented Mum who could sew taught me as a little girl about creativity and the importance of owning my individuality. Looking at old photographs of her in the United Kingdom made me appreciate different styles and patterns. Rummaging through her closet to run my little fingers across the fabric of classic pieces she saved, inspired a sweet nostalgia in me for a decade which although before my time was my earliest inspiration in fashion. The era of Modernist Subculture struck a fancy in me and I am ready for its revival today in 2021.
By Marilyn Glover5 years ago in Styled
Learning To Appreciate Creative Differences
Gia slipped into her English class at the tail end of the final bell, hoping to go undetected, but her five foot eleven posture towered over most of her classmates. Her jet black pixie cut and ice blue eyes intensified her presence and her unique flair for fashion. She hurried along to her assigned seat, four rows in and the third desk back with her head held down, dressed in a Naruto t-shirt displaying her love for anime. The ruffles of her flowy black skirt, one of her unique designs, swung off her slim frame like a top model walking the runway. Her retro combat boots gave her some confidence, yet in reality, she was uncomfortable in social settings, constantly feeling out of place and alone. Flopping down onto the hard metal chair, she closed her eyes, hoping and praying that perhaps this would finally be the day she would catch a lucky break.
By Marilyn Glover5 years ago in Humans
Romancing the Railway
Esme boarded Amtrak's Ethan Allen Express in Albany, bound for New York City. She gave her face mask a gentle tug at the bottom to adjust its fitting and seated herself a quaint spot on the right-hand side for optimal viewing from the passenger window. She withdrew her boarding ticket from her handbag for the conductor making his rounds, letting out a disappointed sigh when she heard the dining cart was closed for her trip, estimated at 2 hours and 41 minutes. Unfortunately, Amtrak was operating only at 50% capacity due to Covid 19. Surrounded by empty seats reminded her of how isolated the world had become, her time in seclusion without a companion. A glass of merlot from her Bright Cellars Wine collection seemed like the perfect solution to her, but knowing she would have to make do, she shrugged her shoulders and turned her attention to the world outside the window. A couple of blackbirds resting on the track platform caught her attention, forcing her to chuckle as "little blackbird" is another name for merlot.
By Marilyn Glover5 years ago in Humans
A Four Legged Find at the Discount Store
Everyone loves a bargain when they are shopping. I have been frequenting the local discount store just minutes from my home for years now. This large two level store conveniently located in downtown Albany, N.Y. offers quite an array of items from cleaning & household products, cosmetics, jewelry & hair care, a modest clothing section, accessories to odds n ends; even furniture & carpeting on the second floor. It is a practical one stop shop with just about everything you will ever need under one roof; a definite bang for your bank type of deal. I always find what I need along with neat surprises as the store is always updating with new items.
By Marilyn Glover5 years ago in Petlife
