Hello Everybody !

I want this to be a place where creative folks can come and express ideas, talk about art, music, photography, writing, books, magazines, ghostly encounters, history, events of importance to creative minds, and just have fun. I also hope to share adventures and stories along the way. If you would like to be a guest or if you have an event that you would like to share please email me at lindajburns@gmail.com


Thursday, December 8, 2011

Warm your heart this Christmas

I can't begin to tell you how much it bothers me that their will be lots of children this December who won't have a Christmas. Nothing! Not a single present, not the comfort of God (as many haven't been allowed in this current society to know him) or the warmth of a family. Children feeling forgotten as everyone worships the power of money and what it will buy. We are fast becoming a country of the haves and have nots. The former forgetting love, hope, charity and compassion. Many go to bed now with hunger, for there is no food. You say there are programs to help these people! But guess what? Many are simply falling through the cracks and no one cares! You think it can't happen to you, but you might be the very next victim of this economy and the thieves who are orchestrating it.

Christmas was and is the birthday of Jesus Christ! These days folks have tried to hide him in all their political correctness but he won't take a back seat to all the false gods you are worshiping and placing before him these days. But try as you might you will never be able to eliminate almighty God!

You say I am one person. What can I do? You can let your one light shine as you may be an inspiration to the next person, like a fire catching up from kindling! Be amazing. Do it!

Let your warmth grow into a blazing fire this Christmas season! Help at least one person. If you don't know anyone who needs your help ask someone! We have a list of 17 children at my work place that no one was helping. There are hundreds.  This is not a huge task. All I'm asking is that you help one person! It won't hurt you one bit. You may find you even like helping others! At any rate I promise it will do your heart good. Best medicine there is for hearts!  So what are you waiting for? 

Friday, November 25, 2011

The Wind Beneath My Wings


My brother, Ronnie was a free lance writer. He wrote a variety of things in his lifetime from local articles to national magazines. He also wrote poems and was working on a novel at the time of his death. He was one of those persons who was so smart that at times he was scary. I fell in his shadow a lot, but I was always content to be there as I was so proud of him. We were always as close as two peas in a pod though there was seven years in our age difference. He looked out for me all his life, I think in part because Dad chose to leave when I was only two weeks old, never to return.

When Ronnie died it almost killed me. I had always written poems and journals but nothing seriously. After his death I started writing in earnest. I think it was partly to feel close to his memory and also to make him proud.

I published a poetry collection last year and have recently had a couple of poems published in anthologies. I have also been entering contests. Today I received notice that I had won first place in one of the categories of the Writers Unlimited Mississippi Poetry Society, South Branch 40th Literary Competition, for a short story I wrote and 1st Honorable Mention for a sonnet called "Winter Moon". I was so excited and happy but all I could think about was wanting to tell Ronnie. I could almost feel him smiling today and it made for a sweet Thanksgiving.

I am so thankful that I had a brother and family that always supported me what ever crazy thing I did. But there was no one like my big brother! He truly was (and is) "the wind beneath my wings". I will always love you and thank you for the gift you have given me to see life with curiosity and a smile.

So Ronnie, this one is for you!

Thursday, November 17, 2011

True Friends Have Fur


True friends have fur, four feet, cold noses,
and tails that wag faster than a NASA rocket.

True friends come in rainbow colors,
are different shapes and sizes and personalities.

True friends have deep wrinkles, bright smiles,
and more love in one paw than most of the known world.
Some can also speak!

True friends love you no matter what . . .
They lay a quiet head in your lap when you are sad.
Snuggle up to your back on a cold night.
Share leftover pizza and bring you presents from your yard.

True friends play Frisbee and ball with style, grace and high jumps.
Warn you when you are in danger, and protect you from
anyone who would do you harm.

Yes, true friends have fur and
are usually a cut above people friends.
I love my friends with fur.

From: Life in the Pond, A Collection of Poetry by Joyce Burns
© Joyce (Tidwell) Burns, ChynaMoon Creations 1997-2011

Monday, November 14, 2011

The Path Home

One of my computer art projects. I call it The Path Home.

© Joyce (Tidwell) Burns, ChynaMoon Creations 1997-2011



Wednesday, November 9, 2011

Exasperation


My mind
is locked tight as a drum
for I can’t stand
one more
ounce
of your insanity today.
How
can you be so blind
to all that is around you?
You
close your eyes,
ears and heart so
tightly,
it’s a wonder
you don’t explode
in a fiery
heap.

What you call
stubborn
is actually
blatant
stupidity,
as you
close yourself
to the thing you want
most!

Sometimes,
my best answer for you
Is no
answer.


Sunday, October 30, 2011

Lochinvar

South of Pontotoc, Ms. is a piece of history that over the years has become a legend. There, nestled on a ridge is a beautiful old antebellum home called Lochinvar. It is currently owned by doctors, Forrest Tutor and his lovely wife Janice and they have lovingly become her caretakers and family.

The history of Lochinvar is amazing and can be traced all the way back to Scotland to the Gordon family of castle Lochinvar. The Gordons were very wealthy land owners and after coming to the United States this branch of the family continued to build wealth taking over land that had once been owned by the Chickasaw Indians. This territory became what is currently North Mississippi.

Lochinvar was built for Robert Gordon's young wife, Mary Elizabeth, and no expense was spared. Later when war came, Lochinvar survived the Civil War because of a kindness by their son, Colonel James Gordon and many years later Lochinvar survived an F4 tornado because of the love so many had for her. This time love of the community and the Tutors would come to her rescue, when common sense was screaming bring in the bull doziers.

I was privledged to listen to Dr.Tutor talk about his beloved Lochinvar for almost two hours last week at our local Historical and Geneaology meeting. He even mentioned her ghosts. My tiny blurb here doesn't scratch the surface on the history and stories Lochinvar has to offer. But if you want to know more about one of the most interesting places in the state of Mississippi, I suggest you research and read all about this wonderful lady.

Here's a link to a wonderful book Dr. Tutor has written about his amazing home and her history. I promise you will be both amazed and delighted. http://www.gordonsoflochinvar.com/

Thursday, October 27, 2011

About My Friend

I am surely not the best person to write this post as there were many who were much more suited, much better with words and much closer to Raymond. I wasn't in the daily, inner-circle but he was one of my co-worker family at NMMC and a friend, and was always kind to me, so I will simply speak from my heart from my point of view.
 
I have nothing but love and total respect for all the Emergency personnel in our lives. They work long, tiring hours away from their homes and families for little pay and are always the first on the scene to pull you out of some crazy mess that has endangered your life. Medical folks are constantly bombarded by life and death and all that lies between. If you work in the medical field in any aspect, you get it. If not you may never understand  the thing that drives these folks. It is 100% pure heart. They care until they bleed. It's a calling. And they are special angels.
 
Raymond had it. Raymond got it and he did it well ! And he did it for many, many years. He helped save many lives, earned the respect of his coworkers and as someone has already said, made many friends along the way. Raymond was witty and could make you smile when you just plain didn't want too. He was compassionate. He loved his job. He loved his family and his dear friends. And he was no doubt a music man.  

The thing is. When you look around today as you are celebrating his life and are missing that crazy mug, see the huge crowd of people who are honoring him today and take in the enormity of all the lives he has touched. This is a true testament to who Raymond Steele was (and is today in heaven). He was a good man, a good friend, and he was and is loved. In knowing him you have been a part of something special on this Earth.

Remember Raymond in all the ways you shared his friendship and keep his warm memory in the pocket of your heart. Rest in peace my friend.

Saturday, October 15, 2011

Shadow Thoughts

Swirling mists,
and deep,
dark
shadows.

Shadows
that aren’t shadows at all
but appear
with familiar hazy forms,
hiding in corners
of quiet rooms,
waiting
 with long
ghostly fingers
for
unsuspecting
victims.
Whispery,
quiet voices
that rasp or giggle,
a tap on the shoulder
or sometimes
a deep throaty growl
in pitch blackness.

Yet I,
seek to know the answers,
of why you are here,
seek to find
where you have gone,
to find those who
have gone before,
and those still
with stories to tell.

But be careful
of what you seek in the
eerie, unnerving silence
for you may find
that curiosity
is a devouring
lover.

© Joyce (Tidwell) Burns, ChynaMoon Creations 1997-2011



Friday, October 7, 2011

Tupelo Historic Tours

When is the last time you truly wandered the streets of your hometown and wondered about all the things that used to be there? What happened when you were young? What places and stories do you remember? What happened before you were born? What buildings once stood on places you see daily? What things occurred at these places both gruesome and good  that make them what they are today?

I just spent a couple of hours this evening with some of the crew of a new business in Tupelo, Ms. called Tupelo Historic Tours. They offer several tours from Elvis to Historic Tupelo, the Civil War and my favorite Haunted Tupelo. These folks have dug deeply into our past and have uncovered many stories and facts that are both interesting and amazing about the place we live. I might add that they have verified this information with historians and eye witnesses of merit. And of additional interest, our EMF detector spiked a couple of times along the way when we were discussing historical hangings on the Court House lawn!

So if you would like to spend a little time for a wonderful evening or an earlier tour (they offer several time slots), or if you want some true ghost stories for Halloween, just go to their website (link below) and sign up for one of the several available tours. I hear the Elvis one is really good too.

And such nice and friendly folks! Thanks guys. It was great fun : )

http://www.tupelohistorictours.com/

Photo above copyright Tupelo Historic Tours

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

Miami Book Fair International

I am so excited. My poetry anthology Life in the Pond is going to be featured at the Miami Book Fair International which will be held on the Wolfson Campus of Miami Dade College in Miami, Fla. on November 13-20, 2011.

This is the 28th year for the book fair and this year they will exhibit over 250 publishers and booksellers and over 350 authors reading and discussing their work. It's sure to be a fun time for all so if you happen to be in Miami in mid-November be sure to drop by and check out the fair.

To learn more about the Miami Book Fair check out their link below:
http://www.miamibookfair.com/



Monday, September 19, 2011

Talk Like a Pirate Day

Several years ago my co-workers and I happened upon some fun 'guys' John Baur and Mark Summers on the internet. As they were slinging pirateisms at each one evening they realized how much fun swearing in 'pirate' could be. Turns out it's an entire language, so they thought it might be fun for everybody to celebrate the fun side of pirates on September 19 each year.

It's all in fun and adds a smile or two to our work day. Talk Like A Pirate Day has spread across the entire internet matey. So shiver ye timbers and join in the fun. And if you want to know the whole story of how things started, 'here be' the original pirate merry makers website. Aarrggghhhh ye bilge rat, bring me my grog and cast them land lubbers overboard. http://www.talklikeapirate.com/about.html 

Friday, September 16, 2011

That Crazy Bank Robbery

I work for a large regional medical center and there has never been enough space to house all the ancillary departments and employees. Areas like insurance, billing, payroll and information technology  have always been housed in off campus sites which have moved around every few years. Things are much more stable now and we are in a rather large building with the insurance people though we are still off-site from the main medical center.
Years ago the medical center had leased  a building for our group that we affectionately called ‘the motel’,  as that’s what it looked like. It was a long, low slung, one story building that had seen better days and was nestled next door to a music store with woods bordering the backside. The music store had previously been a Volkswagen dealership, and there was actually a group of tax lawyers  and accountants in the far end of our building. It was a strange grouping to say the least.
There were actually two buildings of our people here. The other building which housed our computer room was about one hundred feet east across the parking lot. Most mornings, early, we would walk over to the big building to get coffee or sodas or to work in the computer room. We were back and forth between buildings all day for one reason or another.
On the other side of the second building was an ATM machine, and a little farther over from there was a branch bank where most of our folks deposited paychecks every other week.  These were days before direct deposits became the norm. So every other Thursday afternoon we would trek across the parking lot to the bank. The bank folks were really nice people and we had become friends with a lot of the people who worked there.
One morning my office suite mate had been across to the other building and was just about to wander back in the door when a car came sliding to a halt in the parking lot. She looked up to see her step-father in the car and all he said was “he robbed us at the bank”. “Call the police!”  My friend took this to mean that her stepfather had been robbed. She ran into our building screaming “call the police, call the police, he’s been robbed!”
In the South, friends are loyal to the core. As soon as we heard, “ he’s been robbed”, we all hit the parking lot to see what was going on.  Inside, calls were being made. Outside the stepfather had driven off to look for the robber.
We were standing outside the building when all of a sudden, around the wooded corner of the building, came a man running at top speed with his arms wrapped around a heavy, bulging towel full of money. He was struggling to hold his payload as bills spilled out and tumbled to the ground. He saw us, just as we saw him. And he turned on his heels and started running like the wind in the other direction. That was one huge chunk of money in his arms!
By now insanity had taken hold and three of us, all women,  started chasing him on foot. This was probably the dumbest thing I have done in my life as we had no idea if he was armed or what had actually occurred . We still thought our friend’s stepfather had been robbed, but it started sinking in as he continued  dropping more money as he ran. Later we were told we were screaming so loudly that they heard us in all the buildings down the street and people started to file out of their buildings to see what was happening. As we got to the main street,  he darted across. So did we, right behind him, just like in the movies with all cars squealing brakes and dodging people. Somehow we didn’t get run over and we were not going to let him get away after all this trouble. One girl was running in heels.
About the time we crossed the street we saw him run in to the nearby salvage store. The police started to arrive on the scene and quickly put a stop to our adventure. They came in with guns drawn and canines showing teeth so we thought it might actually be a good time to stop. But we didn’t go far.
The police surrounded the salvage store. I think every person on duty must have shown up as there were blue lights everywhere. The squad moved in and turned the dogs loose inside the building. The suspect was found hiding underneath a counter still clutching what was left of the money. It was amazing how fast those canine officers had him rounded up. And as they led the bank robber  away to the squad car it was said he told the policemen not to let those crazy, screaming women near him.
Most of the money was picked up and turned in. The police later told us there was still around a thousand dollars missing. We looked all around our building but never found anything, except on the wooded side of the building where  we found  a snake in a tree and had a whole lot of screaming going on. But that’s a story for another day.
We did finally realize it was actually the bank that had been robbed. All the bank staff was alright but we shared some tall tales next payday. They told us he did indeed have a gun.  I guess with all the running and the money in the towel   it was not very practical to draw a gun. I really never felt we were in danger though, as I never believed he would let go of that towel. He just wanted to get away.
The other girl that was running with us got stuck in high gear. She was talking so fast that no one could even understand her until after lunch. We made the paper as the crazy, screaming women who chased the bank robber. They had no idea we thought we were helping our friend. The bank robber went to jail and peace was restored to our tiny kingdom. We always did wonder what happened to the rest of the money.
I did learn one thing that day. I found I certainly have some interesting  (and fast) friends and I hope they will be around for a long, long time.
                                              Joyce Burns

© Joyce (Tidwell) Burns, ChynaMoon Creations 1997-2011


Thursday, September 15, 2011

Just Shoes


Ballerina slippers and military boots,
discarded baby booties
from early days,
steel toes, mules and high heels
some destined for salvage stores
and others worn by millions
who died in the agony of wars,
displayed in museums
so we don’t forget history
or those who died.

Shoes, once full of life,
left in a heap, by unsuspecting humans
with little or no thought for tomorrow.
Unsuspecting people,
who think
their journey
will never end.

Mud from the picnic in the country;
cotton candy and gum from the amusement park,
making for sticky bottoms.
Running shoes, cleats, driving shoes, golf shoes
and those for the garden;
favorite sneakers
 that her toes curled in when she got her first kiss
from that summer boy,
under a gigantic yellow moon.

Shoes,
 take on our print,
tell our story and leave shapes
on our soles
and souls.
Some neatly polished,
others, ragged and worn,
summer sandals and winter lined boots.

Shoes,
a part of us, daily
seeing all those things that no one else
is supposed to know,
keeping our secrets and our treasures
until one day,
we simply leave them in a heap
to transition in our shadows.
and perhaps to
new feet.
                                                 
                                                   Joyce Burns
© Joyce (Tidwell) Burns, ChynaMoon Creations 1997-2011  

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Pretty Wallpaper

Your laughter, down the hall
aligns the routine
of my
compact
work day.

I smile
as morning begins
with coffee and
your soft chattering
 on the phone.
I have come to love these
quiet sounds
that unfold my morning
like a worn newspaper
 from a quiet,
 unruffled
Sunday.

Some people
quietly,
and
unassumingly
become
players in the heart.
They stick
like pretty wallpaper,
to the lining of your soul
and teach you
 all about yourself,
and what you are lacking.
They give you
smiles,
and heartaches
and occasionally
bend you toward the light.

I love you my friend
with all your complexities
because you,
are uniquely you
and simply knowing you,
makes me a better
human being.

How blessed am I.

                                     Joyce Burns

© Joyce (Tidwell) Burns, ChynaMoon Creations 1997-2011

Sunday, September 11, 2011

Remembering 9 -11



As the sun filled the sky
on a quiet September morning,
life forever changed.

So many stories
between lines of time and pain.
So many lives,
bursting with promise and hope
suddenly gone,
but never forgotten!

Ten years of memories
and still we cry,
as we carry the weight
of our broken hearts
and lost innocence.

May this day
be filled with new beginnings,
as souls at last find peace
beneath the whisper of trees
and murmuring waters
surrounded by bronzed remembrances.

Let the sun shine on us again
and may we learn the meaning of peace
and move forward into a new day,
being mindful
that the tragedy here
was born of others’
hate.

May healing begin
and life renew,
and may we always remember these
beautiful souls
and those who died after them,
seeking freedom
in their memory.

                                                                   Joyce Burns

© Joyce (Tidwell) Burns, ChynaMoon Creations 1997-2011

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

Quiet Solipsism & A Case of Confusion

I thought we used to be
pretty good
friends,
friends with a mission,
real friends -
but
no more.

I am invisible to you now,
unless you are forced
 to be in my company.
I am someone
 you tolerate
as you hide behind a drink
or your
 good deeds at church.
But good deeds
 won’t get you
 into heaven.

Am I so vile
because
I have grown old,
or because
I am not so pretty?
Or Is it because
you now have lots of money
and a big house,
and I don’t,
and you are ashamed for me,
pity me,
think me crazy,
to ease you mind
and your guilt?

Is it because I have no children
and we now share different
life experiences?
You work to be seen
at every social event,
even though I know
 how you despise those crowds
and their dusty lives.
Have we grown to be so different
than the realities we once knew?

Is it because I have suffered much
and you have not?
Life has the appearance
of perfect bliss for you.
But somehow I doubt that it
 is all that it appears to be.

Are you afraid my pain
or my poverty will
some how
rub off on you?

Or is it because
I know all those quiet secrets,
the ones you cannot afford
for the world
or your now rich neighbors to know?

I am the same one
you have always known.
I know your true heart
and your soul.
It does not belong here
among a myriad of
things
and polished silver.
Why are you here in this barren land?

 I will move on now.
I will keep your secrets.
And I will try
not to think of you
again,
for where you have gone now
breaks my heart.

But I have no right to judge,
though  I will pray for your salvation.
For I am,
and always will be,
your friend.
                                                                                        Joyce Burns

© Joyce (Tidwell) Burns, ChynaMoon Creations 1997-2011

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

If I Swallowed the Moon

© Joyce (Tidwell) Burns, ChynaMoon Creations 1997-2011