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Monthly Archives: March 2013

A secret between sisters

Little Girls

Excerpt from the sequel novel, “A Friend Request” by C L Gillmore

“The narrow alley separated our single-story house from the brick, two-story directly across from us. I learned over the years that the two-story served as a slaughterhouse and meat market, grocery store and finally an apartment building, catering mostly to single men.

My sister Carla and I used to scour the alley between our house and the apartment building on Saturday and Sunday mornings looking for money dropped by the drunks as they exited cabs late at night. We always managed to find something, mostly loose change, but sometimes dollar bills.

We took our new-found wealth, walked two blocks to a little neighborhood market and spent it all on things we never had at home—Seven-Up candy bars, Topps baseball cards with gum, Hostess Cupcakes and Snowballs, giant dill pickles, slices of boiled ham, ice cream Drumsticks and Dr. Pepper—depending on how much we found. We sometimes stuffed it all down our throats as we walked back home, often making ourselves sick.

We never told anyone. It was our secret. A secret between sisters.”

How to achieve your goals


“The only thing standing between you and your goal is the bullshit story you keep telling yourself as to why you can’t achieve it.” ~Jordan Belfort

The gentle rains of Woodstock’s peace



“Although none of us made it to the love, peace and music of Woodstock the weekend of August 1969, the spirit of those half a million strong drifted across America like a warm, summer breeze that gathered strength and propelled an entire generation forward. A generation that would change the country.

The gentle rains of Woodstock’s peace and love were washed away nine months later by the violence and bloodshed at Kent State.

…tin soldiers and Nixon coming.”

Excerpt from the novel, A FRIEND REQUEST, By C L Gillmore

I know the voices aren’t real


“I know the voices aren’t real…but man,

do they ever come up with some great ideas…”

CL Gillmore is featured in Brenda’s Let’s Talk Tea

Thanks for the feature Brenda!


Brenda’s Let’s Talk Tea

Brendas Fine Foods and Gift Baskets

The secrets are an evolution

friends separated

“Would our secrets be so secret if we were in each others company or are we open because we can feel some private compassion? The secrets are an evolution. We evolved together apart.”

~excerpt from the novel, “A Friend Request,” by C L Gillmore


He who gets slapped

Bill True


My amazing friend and screenwriter, Bill True …Friday evening at the gala reception and performance of HE WHO GETS SLAPPED! The night was one of those “wow” moments!

Photograph by another talented friend and artist, Kathryn Henneman…

Poetry isn’t a profession



“Poetry isn’t a profession, it’s a way of life. It’s an empty basket; you put your life into it and make something out of that.” ~ Mary Oliver


I love you not only for what you are

I love you

“I love you not only for what you are,
But for what I am when I am with you.
I love you not only for what you have made of yourself,
But for what you are making of me.
I love you for the part of me that you bring out.”

~Elisabeth Barrett Browning~

She wrote about the one thing she remembered from that weekend

hippy dancing

Excerpt from the sequel novel, “A Friend Request,” by C L Gillmore

Jake finds a poem from Rose in a FB message…

I pulled up the message from Rose and found another poem waiting. No explanation…just the poem.

Beautiful Bell-Bottomed Boy

Shirtless, bronzed, bell-bottomed boy,
Beautiful, young and lean.
Soft, silken coffee-brown hair,
Wind-swept, wild and free.

Graceful, fluid, outstretched arms,
Expressive, gentle hands.
Lovely, curved, sensuous hips,
Legs strong, slender and tan.

Rocked by the gods of music and freedom,
Swaying in rhythmic jubilation.
High on life and love’s sweet passion,
He danced for her in celebration.

One girl alone was hypnotized,
In the midst of a thousand faces.
Her eyes linked to his piercing blue eyes,
And put her own feet in his paces.

Gone are the days of the young summer sultan,
And the girl who watched him with joy.
He dances forever within her heart,
Beautiful bell-bottomed boy.
~By Rose Allison~

She wrote about the one thing she remembered from that weekend. And what she remembered was me.

I read the poem, then read it again…repeating the last two lines…He dances forever within her heart, beautiful bell-bottomed boy.

I was the beautiful bell-bottomed boy she remembered that weekend so long ago…better than I remembered myself. She closed her eyes and saw me…the way I looked back then…at my best, in my prime. She captured that moment in words…for herself, for me, for whoever read the poem.

No matter how old I got or after I was gone…I would forever be the beautiful bell-bottomed boy in the poem.

How many men had poems written for them…about them…by a woman who loved them? Not many I suspect.
Not many at all.

No matter what became of Rose or me or of the relationship…now there were words to mark our passing…our space and place in time. Much like the words in Rose’s diary…they validated us both.

Once we lived. Once we were here. Once we were young and in love. For one moment in time, we found a place to be together in one another’s heart.