By now most of you have probably heard of the 21 Day Fix, Insanity, P90X, and other Team Beachbody programs.
Well my friend Nadia has had amazing results using the 21 Day Fix and is now coaching others to stay motivated and fit, and I’m just helping to spread the word. I’ve done blocks of Insanity and I’ve never hurt so good in my life.
So please, if you’re interested in any of the Beachbody programs, give Nadia’s personal page a look, and contact her for more information.
You can also LIKE her on Facebook, for more info, motivational posts, recipes, and workouts.
I’d also appreciate if you could social media the crap out of this post. Any little bit helps (and gets Nadia more clients)!
Thanks, guys! Now let’s all run a few laps. And drink wine. Lots of wine.
at night I unhinge
my bones in moonlight.
maybe I dance
maybe I remember him
I have ritualized dear grandfather
into my agnostic bedtime prayers.
Grandmother says she’ll
sleep through Christmas,
sleep right into next year
holed up above the awkward
up where he slept, too.
how has nearly a year
snuck up as quickly as
I can still smell the
cigar on his breath
the way his chest
with that rusted laugh
ain’t that a shame
Your hands are your father’s
Only smaller, smoother like
The glassy sunsets of uncommon
Jewels. You raise life to your mouth
For inspection, you drink it in like wine.
I imagine your world in the prisms of
A periscope; you are seeing things I am much
Too jaded to see. The first hint of light that works
To wake me is your hundredth sunrise. Each
Morning you open your eyes and dream.
Our beautiful baby boy certainly keeps me busy and unable to post here as often as I’d like to, but thank you to those who continue to stop by and read my words. I truly appreciate it!
Calling all poets!
As most of you know by now I work for Philadelphia Stories, a literary publication that “has been serving the writing, reading, and art community of the Greater Delaware Valley since 2004.”
Our annual poetry contest, The Sandy Crimmins National Prize for Poetry, is now open for submissions! The deadline is November 15th; first place includes a $1,000 cash award, an invitation to an awards event in Philadelphia, and publication in our Spring 2016 issue!
So pull out all your best work and click here to submit!
Please like, share, submit, and otherwise social-media the crap out of this post. I’d truly appreciate it!
“…we must be the example of what it means to value, respect and appreciate those who we say we love.” An important read.
Originally posted on Ned's Blog:
As many of you know, I’m a firm believer in the power and importance of humor in our lives. I think of what I do as a columnist as more than just trying to get a laugh or two; it’s contributing what I can to others in the best way I know how. Let’s face it: If my contribution was something like medicine instead of humor, a lot of people would die. But from time to time I get the privilege of sharing a more serious side of myself. Today, I’m joining other men in my community who have been asked by to write about Domestic Violence Awareness as part of a special publication by our local shelter for victims of abuse. I join our police chief, chamber of commerce director and others in supporting victims — in my case, particularly those who are too young to understand that love…
View original 652 more words
He wakes and his Cupid’s mouth
Is thrumming at my breast.
I lift him high with tired arms
And he thinks I shaped the sky
With these two hands. In simple
Motions I am a life source, in
Quiet rooms by lamplight I teach
Him what words are. I used to think
I had not done enough, was not full
Enough of something until my own son
Searched my face like starlight. In twelve
Hours I became a philosopher in a hospital gown.
Originally posted on hastywords:
There will be many
Who will love your smile
They will tell you jokes
Just so they can claim it
There will be many
Who will love your eyes
Will want to dive deep
Into the magic they hold
There will be many
Who will love your heart
They will try to mark it
Etch their name deep
Try to brand it, own it
Don’t give them away
To the first bidder
Or the highest
Or the bravest
Or the sweetest
Let those things shine
On everyone you meet
And wait for the one
Who doesn’t want to take
What is yours to keep
“Love set you going like a fat gold watch.”
– Morning Song, Sylvia Plath
But it would be weeks until I saw the
Black and white flicker of your real, live
Heart, its muffled whoosh, whoosh, whoosh
While your father stood dumbstruck by
My navel. We held the first, glossy evidence
Of you in our hands. We turned it over like an
Old photograph then plastered it on the fridge.
I giggled each time I reached for the milk, his
Working hands holding me, holding you.
I framed your progress all over the living room,
I showed you off to friends. My grandfather smiled his
Big, proud smile and tried his best to meet you.
I think he held you before I did. I’d barely imagined you
Before you became a beautiful, squawking thing,
A helpless masterpiece. You speak in foreign tongues
I struggle to understand. I dream you’re speaking to him.
At night your moon face makes me believe in something
I never did. I press one hand to your cheek, the other to your father’s.
she wakes to lavender
pooling in all her fleshy,
she had the dream
of all dreams last night:
staring through a dirty wine glass
like a drunken fortune teller
she saw life as it could be
by the softening glow of
holiday lights in city summer.
somewhere far from here
for the first time
she was good enough.