The blackbird


Poetry from Jane on wordpress!

Originally posted on Jane Dougherty Writes:

A bit of self-indulgence for one of my favourite birds.


You sang your small heart to the summer,

Filled the woods with an endless song.

The soul of the orchard and hedgerow,

Your magic swelled all summer long.

But you wore out your heart with your singing,

Your brittle bones failed, not your art,

Winter’s white hand took your sweet songs,

And its cold fingers stilled your warm heart.

The roses have withered and fallen,

You have flown to the Islands of Bliss,

Where blackbirds still sing in the rose trees,

In that world so much gentler than this.

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Happy Memorial Day

Memorial Weekend

My Red, White and Blue

by Caroline Clemens

On the anniversary for the gallant lives we lost;
Whose mortal means paved revolutionary roads.

I salute the sapphire souls, the brave and the bold.

The commanders and mates who mightily scathed the foe;
With grit and pure resolve kept innocence and freedom so.

I honor the soldier’s life, chivalrous and true;
Dying for my flag of red, white and blue.

#   #   #

Happy Memorial Day Weekend

This is the greeting we give out for the upcoming holiday in the states. There are ceremonies with flags and trips to the cemeteries honoring those fallen. Typically picnics and frolicking in the cold lakes are a part of the festivities. Then there is the tomb of the unknown soldier which honors those not recognized or remembered. Will there be a day, a year, or century we don’t have this holiday anymore? When will war end?

Some will say never. Many of us have hope that it does and soon. I tend to think when we (all) cherish life and freedom it will have a chance. Mothers are so important, more important than they are given credit and respect for. I hate war but do honor our troops for protecting America and respect their sacrifices. I look to the day, the year and this century to make (war end)that happen. Women have a place in the global world and I’m ready for it. Are you? I believe their contributions can help alter the course of war on this planet. Do you believe?

Poem from Autumn Quotes on Amazon

Google Images Flag Pic Credit

Gardenlilie Blog

Autumn Quotes by Caroline Clemens

iThinkstockPhotos-480956567I’m pleased to showcase my book of poetry which I uploaded after dividing into four seasonal concepts of life. I purchased the cover from Thinkstock for ten dollars after searching hundreds of Japanese Magnolias~I call them tulip trees here in the south. Autumn Quotes for me means people, things, or ideas you’ve never met in your life. You’ve stayed on that singular road and not been bothered or maybe events haven’t entered your life. In other words, those things happen to other people.

I’m embracing differences and seeing them on new levels. Hopefully, also teaching my children a level of tolerance for them to go forth in the world saying or believing, my mom said, “it’s okay to care or bend or change.”

If I had to brag about my book, and with self-publishing this is how you have to push forth, the following would be my sell!


What a gorgeous book of poems! From the exquisite floral cover, including her meaning behind the tulip tree, I found this poetry simple, yet intricate and warming to my soul. It’s quite a mixture of forms so I’m thinking the author has had training or instruction.

Favorites of mine are Paradise, Green, Together, Rebelicious, and Autumn Quotes for which the book is named. The Storm is a perfect tribute to religion and spirituality, while Waiting and Inside Them reflects the conflicts of today around the world.

The beautiful and soft setting of Monet bequeaths you to a day of yesteryear, when artists descended upon Paris and the countryside. Imagination is real! With the Wind ideally describes what peacekeepers, globally, long to see. Finally, Fern Carpet subliminally takes you to the path we all fall upon.


Autumn Quotes is available on Amazon for pre order for Mother’s Day. You can send a gift card with the kindle version to her as a suggestion! Amazon lets you put a gift card and a picture in there also. I love it! My shopping is done and so unique, all from me.

One further note … I hope to write another collection starting this fall. Enjoy!

Click here to find me on Amazon.

By Kim Troike

pen~Caroline Clemens

sources Amazon, Thinkstock, & Gardenlilie Publishing

The South Pole

true story     I came outside after a long laborious night and needed to say a prayer for the doctor inside. The glow amongst our South Pole village shone with a mysterious pink light. Maybe my vision was playing tricks on me.

Here we are in the coldest zone on the planet, stuck if you will, by our own accord. Isolated but connected. How she had the courage to cut out her own breast tumor I’ll never know?

And so now, my release. I cry for her in amazement, and joy, yet I pray she makes it after all that bravery. Goosebumps. Tears fall that immediately freeze on my cheeks. Best go back inside to check on the doctor, I mean patient.

by Kim Troike

My recollection of a news story from years ago. My grandmother’s doctor knew the lady doctor (possibly they went to med school or something) who found her breast cancer while on assignment at the South Pole. She couldn’t wait six months for surgery and diagnosis. The doctor performed her own lumpectomy while at the South Pole about twenty years ago. I don’t know if she is still alive. When I saw this picture I knew that was the South Pole!

Photo credit~Douglas M. Macilroy

Photo prompted Friday Fictioneers @ Rochelle Wisoff-Fields blog


Yesterday I wrote a short 100 word fiction story with elements of truth. I recalled a story I’d heard (see, I’ve been a news junkie all along and especially love those human interest stories) and elaborated to make it my own. I had to look it up after people commented they had heard it, too. In very simple  journalism, here is the story:

Dr. Jerri Nielsen Fitzgerald died at the age of 57 in 2009 after a second bout with breast cancer. It returned in 2005. Initially, she found a lump while at the South Pole as the only doctor there. Medically trained at the University of Toledo Medical Center and a citizen of Ohio, she wrote a book “Ice Bound: A Doctor’s Incredible Battle for Survival at the South Pole.” It became a TV movie!

The National Guard rescued her in 1999 as chilling conditions presented with the temperature 58 degrees below zero. She had to wait for them to come and get her out after her initial discovery in 1998, so she performed her own surgery. They dropped her chemotherapy medication to the village below while she waited. Amazing.

source: NBCNews

The End

The End

Burning RiverThank you so much for following my blog! I had no idea how intense and fun this adventure on the net would be. Other business will take my time and I won’t be able to post my own work. I have a few people I’ve promised to showcase over the next year and I will do just that. You can follow me on twitter at gardenlilie or stay tuned here as well.

I remember just coming up with a name for my blog when this little journey began. My … it was loads of fun; sunflower was taken so gardenlilie was born. I’m a dreamer and you can’t even imagine all the episodic possibilities I encountered with poetry, music and writing. I see why writers write and singers sing. There is such joy and depth of feeling to behold!

The PathI entered my poetry in a contest, fingers crossed for luck, but will publish it myself when its over. I have plans to do a second manuscript as I already have a title. It was a pleasure meeting all those poets from dVerse Poets Pub. Best to all!

My time as a mother at home is being absolved and will no longer be afforded, and eventually, when all are driving might not be necessary. Yes, things do come to a close over the years. This seems like a good time to say goodbye.

I had high hopes, hey, that’s how I work of possibly publishing and making a small income selling my words. I haven’t found that yet but may try again. Actually, I’m thinking about working on a boat, a fishing boat. How’s that? I did that when I was a little girl for my grandmother.

I’m so practical that it was fun to dream for awhile, to think about what might spur you on in the creative world. Good luck to my friends here on WordPress; I wish you all the best.

I had tears yesterday when my daughter reached a new milestone and I have tears right now with this ending. Tears of joy!

20130609-221706.jpgI’m very excited about my novel and will devote my time promoting it. Please come to my other blog to follow me there. I’ll be posting about my novel and hope to use my camera for photography! Thanks to the photographers for their inspiration and other fellow bloggers. Sherry Lachelle and Susie Lindau come to mind along with many others I continue to follow.

DSC_8228Bon voyage!

by Kim Troike

Sherry Lachelle Photography

Google pic credit




VineyardsOnto more info about my novel … It’s up on Amazon just in case you are new to my blog. Titled “Into the Vines” by Kim Troike with the page number at 414, it is available in paperback and e–read. This fictional story carries on in Paris, the city of light, and the Loire Valley, where vineyards and rivers are in abundance in this garden–like setting!

Loire Valley GardensHowever, all the fancy flowering vineyards and chateau–styled mansions of yesteryear, do not compare to the lovable, the comic, and adorable character named Francis. Yet this beautiful garden setting is where he finds himself. Yes, this tiny little boy will capture you unaware as he frolics through his young life, seemingly more knowledgeable than the adults. I’d like to think my own outlook on life matches this cute fellow with a ready smile and concern for others.

Find out about his talent and see who discovers this young prodigy. What does anyone do about it? Anything? Makes you wonder what your own hidden talent might be.

Excerpt …

Musical notes from the piano echoed through the first floor making their way back to the kitchen. “Why, who is playing my piano?” She set her list down and walked out of the kitchen towards the music, a classic melody, if she wasn’t mistaken.

Well, it couldn’t be, but, here he was playing with both hands. She had been told he played at his mother’s but not his grandmother’s as she had no piano. Her eyes watched and he wasn’t reading music, no notes. He was playing by ear.

He looked at her as if to ask is this okay or should I stop? She nodded and he played on . . . and on. He was playing without musical notes on sheet music and he was good. She sat down with her mother on the sofa facing the grand piano and felt stymied.

Unknowingly she looked mesmerized. When he finished, she said to him, “Well, if I knew all the scores like you then I could play anything. That was beautiful. Do you know the music from study?”

He turned to look at her and said, “I don’t need the score, Ms. Brie, I just play what I hear.”

“You are a genius then. Do you remember hearing the song at the ballgame?” she asked.

“Which one?” he asked.

“The one that goes like this . . .” She hummed the tune ‘Take Me Out to the Ballgame.’

“Yes, I remember that one,” he said with a huge smile. Then he played it and Brie sang the words to his notes.


Loire Valley, FranceCatalyst means a person or thing that spurs change. Unknowingly and innocently, Francis will be the catalyst in this epic contemporary novel.

Find out how. Order here.

By Kim Troike

Google Images

Stolen lives


Written by my friend Jane Dougherty on WordPress this piece is right to the point. She paints it coldly, miserably morbid. I am proud to know her and her skills! Enjoy!

Originally posted on Jane Dougherty Writes:

Flash fiction

Painting: Ivan Vavpopic


I had a teacher once, Mr Halloran, who liked to take the boys in the class to play football. I remember the look of anticipation, the way he rubbed his hands with glee, when he sent us, the girls, on our way to another teacher’s classroom to do girlish things of which he knew nothing and cared about even less. He was married to a grey-faced, self-effacing English woman who he didn’t allow to have a job, the object of compassion of the other loud, outspoken Irish mothers. He had two small sons, younger than me. The older one was tough and able to shoulder his father’s expectations. The younger one was soft, physically and emotionally. He preferred his quiet-spoken mother, her calm reassurance and games that did not put him in danger of life and limb.
His father forced him to join in the…

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