© Jennifer K. Marsh 2015

There once was a man so holy of heart,
though oft times he wondered when his life would start;
he roamed through his town with his shadow forlorn,
beset by a sense that the world he must mourn.
For, though holy his heart, a piece was misplaced,
which could not be found with imprudent haste –
like flowers that blossom with each merry spring,
the timing of Grace is a delicate thing.

And as this man rambled through well-trodden streets
he yearned for a beauty for his eyes to greet,
but where could he find such delight to the eye
when all his surrounds were a joy so denied?
How this man yearned for the blush of a flower
to inspire a smile through his lonely hours!
And so with a sigh and a drop of his head,
he wandered away to meet what lay ahead.

His feet led the way, knowing not where they went,
but being a vagrant bettered silent laments;
he would wander afar to seek what had been lost,
through valleys and tors, and sunshine and frost.
Perhaps, so he thought, if he ventured these lands,
someday he’d return with a flower in hand,
for with hope in his step and with faith in his soul
he would find the stray piece to make his heart whole.

Ever onwards he went, though the flowers he saw
were pretty and special, and yet nothing more –
he saw flowers of peach, of pink and of blue,
but knew that in spirit for others they grew.
Though he was perplexed by the flowers in sight,
for they wilted not beneath the blazing sunlight;
they were as gentle and as fair as could be
and suffered none in the heat – which was not so for he.

How he longed for the shade as he journeyed the dale!
Alas, no trees he found to offer avail.
The sky above had not even a cloud
to ease the travail he felt on the ground.
Only woe he had found as he travelled abroad,
and so, with despair, he cried out to the Lord:
“Why must my heart bear such sorrow as this!
Why is your Grace not enough for my bliss!”

So passed the day ’til the sun’s fall was due,
for the dusk welcomed he with a heavenly hue.
Relief was his own when the heat fell away,
and so he awaited the nightly display;
soon he would see the diamond dance of the stars
and moonstruck he’d be by the light of afar.
His wonder so grew for the dark mystery –
a vision of glory so melancholy!

But then as he trod ever marvelling still,
providence sang over wind-smitten hills;
it taught him of patience – his heart would soon sing! –
for he was so blessed, and a lover of spring.
The truth of these words he could not deny,
but his heart still wept for a flower to find.
But then his eyes met, on the horizon faint,
the shape of a tree that compelled to acquaint.

The tree greeted him with a smile and said,
“Hail, weary traveller, may my roots make your bed!
Dear child of God, I bid you rest beside me,
for you are my keeper and in return I keep thee.”
The man offered his thanks, expressed humble and true,
but the tree spoke again, for foretelling he knew:
“I have heard word that a flower you seek:
Turn and behold! The Lord’s flowers are meek.”

The man turned and beheld but he could not admire,
for this flower was frigid and stirred no desire;
she hid her bloom from the light of the sun
and retired her beauty to instead only shun.
But though this was so, he was caught by intrigue,
for what flower can hide with such quiet mystique?
How would she be if she opened her heart?
Would she be fearful, or broken, or dark?

The tree chuckled and said, with much good intent,
“You know in your heart this here flower I meant!”
The man did respond, “But how is this so?
For she is no heavenly image I know.”
And the tree so replied, “And so that should be,
since her beauty is only for your eyes to see!
She has been waiting for her sacred spring,
for the timing of Grace is a delicate thing!”

He sat down in thought, pondering over his plight
as he was amongst the ever darkening light.
So came to be the sky faded to black
and the stars sparked to life for him to gaze at;
they waltzed around the moon’s silver throne,
but how could it be the moon seemed so alone?
And yet, even so, it was the sphere of peace,
and night brought him many a sentiment sweet.

But then he noticed amidst the gentle moonshine
that now arose Grace, for the timing was nigh:
the flower, with care, did open her bloom
beneath the pale light of the moon.
Her petals were bold in a delicate white –
an angel that shone in God’s holy light!
Her beauty was more than he could ever tell:
she was the moonlight’s own precious belle.

But what did he see when she opened her heart?
She held a fragment – his heart’s missing part.
She was of heaven, this he now knew,
for within her the Holy Ghost surely grew;
she was his gift for his heart so divine –
the piece he had always been yearning to find.
With blessings abound the Lord showed him the One,
and his heart was anew – a new life had begun!

Nevermore would this man pine through the hours,
for he had found her – his little moonflower.


It has been a while since I have done anything on this blog, and an even longer while since I have written/shared a poem. I believe I’ve said before that I never write poetry unless deeply compelled to, and ‘Moonflower’ came to be in quite a… Well, I was cleaning the house when out of nowhere the idea popped up in my mind. I knew I had to let this one out. I don’t think I’ve ever written such a long poem, either – it just kept on going and going! Still, it tells a story, so it’s okay.

As for the odd (and not desperately wonderful) sketch I did to accompany the poem… I’m not quite sure what happened with that, to be perfectly honest. It wasn’t supposed to be what it ended up as. I planned to draw a tree with a man kneeling by it, admiring a blooming flower in the moonlight, but, when I sat down at my desk with pencil in hand, the above happened. For whatever reason, I drew a woman’s hand with the flower coming out of it… And the rest is history. Make of it what you will.

We have all heard of the glorious sunflower, yes? It is sunshine in a flower, blooming and flourishing in the sunlight.

But did you know there is a moonflower? What a gentle thing this flower is! It does not bloom during the day, but rather once the sun has set. It blooms throughout the night.


I want a garden full of moonflowers, so I may see its white beauty, and feel as if the moon’s essence dwells before me in a delicate flower once the night falls. And maybe these moonflowers can be grown amongst some sunflowers, for when one opens the other rests, and the sun is a joy to behold! The sun and the moon, different as they may be, are very much one. Though, for me, my heart lives on the moon.

An aside: I wrote a little song about the sun and the moon once – a ‘love’ story, if you will, between the two. 

‘So the two share the sky, though at differing times,

yet they long to know something more.

Can the sun hide away?

Can the moon see the day?

Would their yearning soon make them fall?’


I feel very much like the man in the poem at the moment. A wanderer. Lonely. Mourning what is not there to be mourned. Maybe I too should wander away in pursuit of my flower… *sigh* 


May you find your flower, be it one of the sun or the moon,

and be at peace, my friends.

Blessings keep you,


Stay Strong

Words cannot express how long I have had to fight for every single smile in my life, and how difficult it has been to hold onto joy and light, thanks to crippling depression that has plagued me since childhood. Thank you to the never-ending continuation of burdens and grief. Really. Thanks. Thank you world, thank you life. I know I am dangerously close to sounding like a martyr, or maybe even a drama queen – ‘What the hell has she got to be depressed about?’ many might think – but unless you too have suffered with it, you cannot understand the agony it brings. Every day. Always. And I know there is so much I have to be thankful for, and indeed I spend every night reminding myself of this, but it is such a faint glimmer within the darkness. But a glimmer nonetheless.

And, to my dear mother, I want to apologise for all the added stress I brought you in my school days, in my teenage years, for I could not cope and I know it upset you to see me ruin myself, to fall into this unrecognisable being of burning anger. And I want to apologise for now, for still not being the daughter I wish I could be. You too have had many hardships, and right now we are both going through difficulty, and I wish I was a better, more stable person to help you somehow. Perhaps I am desperately selfish to spend my time crying and telling you how I cannot cope, burdening you, when you have had to be the strongest woman I know, raising three children alone – one of whom is disabled. You are so strong. How I look at you and think, ‘I wish I could be so wise and strong like you!’ Don’t be sad, Mum. Don’t cry. I will try to be a good daughter and friend to ease these times, though I do not know how. I wish I knew how. Maybe the knowledge of my love will do for now. And, perhaps, I should be saying all this to you in person, but we know how utterly hopeless I am at speaking my feelings aloud… Writing is my release and my solace. And so I write this, sharing with the world how wonderful I think you are. Someday, I will defeat depression once and for all, and be the girl I’m truly meant to be and the daughter I have always hoped to become.

I’ll hold your hand and we’ll scramble these rocks together, though I’m not sure how good I’ll be as support, for you have been the one to support me since forever. I’ll try, Mum. I’ll try…

Once upon a time I wrote a little rhyme… And I say this to you now, and to myself, and to anyone else out there who has silently been suffering with depression:

‘Silver moonlight in the night
shines down for all to see,
so where can the shadows hide
when even in darkness there is light?’


There is light, always. Stay strong ❤

Umeraard-ite (Glowing Heart Day)

I am basically writing this post specifically tailored for Prince Stevick the Agwikus, and indeed writing it purely because of him. But writing this will induce many smiles for me, which can only be a good thing, for as of late I have been having quite a rotten time of it, and it is nice to forget your heart’s woes by distracting it with laughter, wouldn’t you agree…?

But before I get to the smiles, let me just briefly overview why things have been so rotten, and why my soul has been so unbelievably miserable recently. As most of you will know, I have been dealing with my mental health situation… It is a dingy, grim little alleyway to get yourself through, let me tell you. Anyway,  2015 has not got off to a good start. I tripped over through the transitional gate and fell flat on my face. But, no matter, I’m picking myself and dusting myself off. It’s fine. My mother became horribly ill and spent a week in hospital, so I had to look after my disabled brother for a time and that just became unbearable because he hits me and screams at me blah blah. And my therapist dropped a bombshell on me the other week which, upon arriving home after the session, made me cry for the rest of the day. There are sticky situations, and then there are deathly consuming viscid situations, and then there’s the situation I’m in… 😦

I swear, all I have been doing this year is crying. Sobbing. You know when you cry so deeply that, when inhaling, you can feel you soul tremble? Yeah. That.

But the misery does not end there. Ilimoskus, anyone? Anyone heard me mention that before? 😉 My laptop got some hideous virus not too long ago, rendering the stupid thing useless and ruining all my writing files. And then, as if all my technology planned to conspire against me, my main writing USB drive became corrupt… And my Book 2 manuscript file became corrupt and I could no longer access it… And my Times of Old manuscript – the one I have spent a lifetime re-editing – was wiped completely, as were my website files, and also another insanely important document for the Ilimoskus story. And because my backups (on my laptop) had too messed up… Well… I’m not even going to attempt to explain how I felt. But I cried. Again. A lot. Of course. However, my eldest brother is a technological miracle worker and saved the day, PRAISE BE. And now I have forked out on an IronKey USB (brother’s recommendation), because that is NOT happening again. Ever. Nope. Not having it.

Anyway… Moving on from depressing things…




I happen to share my birthday with a few famous faces, which therefore makes my birth date the best ever. No? Oh. Well, allow me to reveal their faces to you, all the same:

Charles Darwin – a man I hold deep respect for.

Abrahaaaaaaaaaam Lincoln

Gromit the Dog!

As you can see, I share my birthday with some marvellous fellows. HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THEM ALL. Also, if you do not know who Gromit is, I feel you have been deprived in life for not knowing the classic that is Wallace and Gromit – product of the wonderful Aardman Animations.

Did anyone notice Gromit’s eye roll upon opening the singing card? That is rather accurate to my response to birthday jubilations and the like. As is this:

I am referring to Squidward, you understand, not Spongebob and Patrick. But oh, the old Spongebob episodes are glorious things. But I am not a birthday celebrator. At all. It’s just not who I am, not what I do.


It’s my birthday. I therefore received some gifts, which is always a very kind gesture from people. But I am here to share some with you (and when I say ‘you’, I really mean Stevick. But you, too 😉 )

I shall save the best ’til last. But let’s start with this:


This is an owl mug. I laughed upon opening it. And I shall tell you why I laughed. Stevick and I have been having the most ridiculous (hilarious) conversation about Owl City and Umbrella and Ilimoskus (don’t even ask) recently, and then I am given an owl mug. Which reminded me of Owl City. And thus of our conversation.

And so I move on to my next little gift:


So, I happened to get two coasters for my birthday this year. This is one of them. A stag. Look at it, bellowing with ferns stuck on its antlers. Hilarious. So in love with stags/deer.

And this is the second coaster I received:


From my dearest darling Meggie, of course. Who else? Yesterday a large parcel came in the post, from my darling, and when I opened it today I was treated to an array of little gifts in a box. All marvellous, obviously. And on this particular coaster Meggie had stuck a Post-It Note on it, and it read: ‘This is some genuine law advice from me.’ I should probably explain that she is in Law. Love her. I howled (laughed) at it all.

And on the mention of Meggie, this was the card she got me:


I swear, Meggie and I make it our mission in life to out-do each other with the cards we send. They are always hysterical affairs, inside and out. On the inside of this one she wrote, ‘This card is an image of us trying to seduce men. Accurate, no?’ The love I have for this girl cannot be described.

And finally, I reveal what you’ve all been waiting for. Or at least Stevick, anyway, since the rest of you have no knowledge of this. Drum roll, please.



Oh, sorry, I mean Higi Hewer. That man has such illegible handwriting.

I honestly spent forever laughing this morning when opening the envelope that enclosed this little delight. I have laughed so much today. It has been lovely. Though, I won’t lie, there were tears earlier on, but short-lived! How can I possibly be sorrowful when such hilarity surrounds me?

How I must thank Stevick for arranging this, and how we must both thank Countdown for letting it become a reality.

Here is a close up of the man.


What a smirk.

But that was not the end of my giggles. He had also written on the back!


You can’t really see it, but it is written in green ink. Nick knows me so well, clearly, for green is by far my favourite colour. But, as I said: illegible handwriting. If anyone can work out what on earth it’s supposed to say – Happy ___??? – please do let me know. The man can’t even write his name. How does that look remotely like ‘Nick‘? Why are there two dots, as though there are two i‘s? Unless he has written Nicki – which is again hilarious – but then where is the k? Deary me. Still. This is fabulous in every way.




Anyway, I leave behind depressing and amusing notions to now turn to earnest ones. I cannot possibly do a post and not drag the Ilimoskus into somehow, right? Perhaps you are wondering about the title of this post.


‘Glowing Heart Day’

On an Ilimoskus birthday, their heartlight (the little four-pointed star situated on their chests) glows brightly throughout the duration of the day. But let me tell you of the Ilimoskus belief regarding their heartlight…

The Ilimoskus believe that their Creator’s spirit resides in the hearts of all. Broaden that belief out and it becomes them believing that there is a light in everyone’s heart. And this light is there to guide you, help you, throughout life.

‘May the light from your heart always guide you’

And I believe this too, you know. This is the case for humans. It is not just limited to the Ilimoskus. There is a light within us all, and all we need to do is embrace it. And when we do, the world becomes a very bright and beautiful place.


Once upon a time, I had a good German friend called Christian with whom I have many joyful memories. I haven’t seen him for many years, and we fell out of touch, but, due to the wonders of social media these days, he is a friend of mine on Facebook. Today he messaged me saying, “Alles Gute zum Geburtstag”. I never knew what “Happy birthday” was in German until now. Can you believe I never asked him? It made me smile.

Though, I did learn this from him in our time:

“Ich liebe dich”

From my glowing heart, I share a loving light, and so I say Ich liebe dich to you all. I love you. For what is life without love? Love to all, and compassion for all.


Embrace the light in your heart

and let it be your guide,

and nevermore will you become

lost within the night

Beyond a Dream

Music ‘Beyond’ by Marc Jungermann <- check out his other work

Beyond a Dream

Beyond a dream you came to me, lifting me above the world into celestial stars. On the edge of the sky we walked, between the black and blue, peering down at evergreen valleys and ancient hills, at flowing streams, distant moors and coloured meadows, all while the wind sang us an everlasting song. What a beautiful land home to my hope, flying free, beyond me dreams!

If I awaken to reality, would you reach me there? Would I see your reflection on the icy sea where the cliffs forever stand proud? Would you ascend above the horizon in gold and silver light, in warmth to bless all of life? Would I hear the song of the wind upon the breeze, or would its sound be lost to me?

Beyond a dream you beckon me, calling me back home. Beyond a dream you wait for me, and I will be there with you soon.

I will come forth and wander across lands afar and ponder amongst the trees who stand in watch over me, and lost in thought I shall fly into the sky and fade away with the light that has stayed true for all of time. Is the glory golden beyond the sea, beyond a dream? One day I will come to see.

Will I find you when I fall asleep, beyond a dream?

writing © Jennifer K. Marsh 2014

Eternal Thread

This poem/piece of creating writing was inspired by a particular man – James Radcliffe, to be specific 😉 He is a beautiful person, and he creates equally beautiful music, so I think everyone should visit his blog and check it out.

Pretty much everything in this poem is taken from things we have said to each other, including the title, Eternal Thread. One day I happened to say the words ‘eternal thread’, and he said that would be a great title for something, to which I replied by saying that I would write a poem about it someday.

He said that if I did write this poem, he wants co-creator credit (that sounds quite demanding, but I can assure you it wasn’t like that). I guess it kind of is his poem too, though, for without him I never would have written it, for I never would have known his words. Maybe, then, it is entirely his poem, and not mine at all. Co-creator credit is all very well, but I personally think that this should be a gift. Therefore, this poem is for you, James, and not by you. But either way, this is yours, in every sense.

Yet although this poem is one of things James and I have said to each other, I wanted to make it something more. I wanted to make it something anyone could read and let it mean something personal to them. Hopefully I have done that. That said, there is one thing in particular which speaks out to me in this poem and which came to my mind when I wrote it, but my lips are sealed, for I do not want to influence your path of imagination. Though, I shall give you a clue: if you regularly talk to me via this blog or email or what have you, this poem is kind of for you, too.

I like writing things for other people. Maybe, if you so inspire me, I will write a poem for you one day 😉 I also like to make the vast majority of my poems link… What I mean by this is that if you put my poems together they tell one continuous poem – or story, as I prefer to think of it. So, this poem may be for James, but I also wrote it in such a way that it could be added to my collection of storytelling poems. And for all these reasons, it is a creation I hold dear to my heart. 

James has already seen this poem, for I sent it to him when I finished it way back in January or February (whenever it was), but now I feel it is time to share it with you all…

I hope you enjoy!


Eternal Thread

© Jennifer K. Marsh 2014

(and James Radcliffe, if he so desires to be co-creator 😉 )

Shall I stay here on the shore, that one you mentioned once before? Shall I sit there and stare far away beyond the ocean’s distant waves? Often I wonder what lies between the blues of the sky high above and the sea’s navy hues, but then in a whisper upon the gentle breeze someone told me, “It is home to golden dreams.”

Where are you now, my friend? Are you there at the other end, over the horizon where the sun ascends? Are you there by another tide where the land and sea joins on a beautiful shore where happiness resides? Is the sun awake and sending you to sleep beneath its rays that beam so far, or is the moon the ruler now, making you arise within the night so you can sing beneath the stars?

Shall I stay here on the shore, that one you mentioned once before, and make a thread out of everything we’ve ever said? Shall I make it go on forever and let the world smile at this eternal endeavour? I know this thread will reveal our rapport, and I know you are waiting for it on your shore, so when I am done shall I throw this thread into the air to let the wind carry it there? And do you think, as it travels beyond the horizon, that those dreams in the sky will shed their light and paint it gold to make it the most beautiful thing we’ve ever laid our eyes on? But don’t you worry, for I want you to know: I will hold onto my end so very tight and never let it go. When this thread reaches you, will you grab onto your end too? I hope you do.

For then I would hear you and your whispers sweet, always, and perhaps in time your words may sway my disheartened mind to forever feel that golden light found within us all, for I once said that golden light comes only from the sun, and that if a soul may know this light, mine is not the one. Yet still I ponder, perhaps needlessly, how strange it seems that you spoke of such a light when once, long ago, I wrote of this very thing:

“I can see you with your thread, stitching every word that’s said … Sometimes I wish I could be there with you, to see the world as you do … But maybe you have painted a trail of golden light for me to follow.”

How did you know such thoughts of mine when all I did was voice the sky? Do you think it could be the eternal thread was one step ahead and formed itself on all unsaid? Do you think the golden light could be this very thread? Do you wonder whether those dreams in the sky waited for this time so as to bring all sense of this into the benign? A thought so pretty, wouldn’t you agree? Though this all makes little sense to me… But since when did life live rationally?

You know how inclined I am to I sigh! You know I do it all the time, and I know that you hear me. Yet how I hope this thread may turn my laments into the sky’s own melody, and if such grief befalls you so that you fall to lament too, maybe yours can be the sea’s own chime that sings the world its lullabies. For though I am here, and you are there, this thread can take us anywhere, and thus a smile will not be far behind whenever we gaze beyond the sky and cast our eyes to the horizon. Is it not such a beautiful prospect?

My friend, I will stay here on the shore, that one you mentioned once before. I will sit there and stare far away beyond the ocean’s distant waves. I will always wonder what lies between the blues of the sky high above and the sea’s navy hues, but then in a whisper upon the gentle breeze you will reassure me:

“All you see is all it seems: it is home to golden dreams. Do not doubt while on the shore; have faith in all you feel, for how else do you suppose your feelings to be real? Golden light is everywhere, in the skyscape as sunsets flare and in our dreams that beckoningly call. But, perhaps, most importantly, it is there within us all.”


Dear friend on another shore,

Thank you for our eternal thread.

Love to you, always.


Imagine Award and Lighthouse Award [Spread Your Wings and Touch the Sky]

The third and last award post! I can hear your sighs of relief as I type. It was supposed to be only one more award, but then Mr. Stevick Steven nominated me for another and disrupted my plans. How inconsiderate. JOKING! Thank you very, very much, Steven, they mean a lot! Atypically for me, I am rather excited about these two awards, for reasons I shall explain in just a moment.

So, as mentioned, Steven from moodsaplently (or simply ‘S’) nominated me, firstly, for the Imagine Award, whereby its purpose is to highlight blogs which make special use of creativity and passion.


According to the rules, I must state 3-5 reasons why I like the S blog, and, of course, the Hewerishly handsome Steven himself:

>> His humour is simply fantastic. It really is the type humour which makes me giggle most of all.

>> He shares his amazing drawings/portraits regularly, and they are such a treat. One of these was Nick Hewer (i.e. a self portrait)

>> He has such inner strength and light which he should always remember! <- I hope you’re paying attention, Stevick, or I will go all Mother Jenny on you, despite the fact I’m not actually a mother, but shhhh. He is not shy to admit on his blog that he is low, that he is struggling, but still he comes into the world of WordPress and makes others smile with his words, or brightens up a day, and that is a truly wonderful thing.

>> He is a creative spark! I like creativity.

>> This probably shouldn’t be a reason, but we have an insane amount in common, and when I say ‘insane amount’, I seriously mean that. It borders on creepy. But, it’s always nice when you have things in common with people.

And now, in accordance with the rules, I am to nominate 3-5 blogs for the Imagine Award:

Maugryph’s Blog


The Eye-Dancers

Now, did I not say I was excited about these awards? Why? As though Steven could read my thoughts, these two awards reflect everything going on in my mind at the moment – more so than usual, anyway. Regarding the Imagine Award, I think it’s fair to say that I’m quite a creative individual, and so receiving an award regarding imagination in all its glory, well, it’s always nice!

The perception the world seems to have with imagination being akin to unicorns prancing upon – or beneath – rainbows really does irritate me, though. This is probably because I’m Little Miss Pedantic, but where did this associate between unicorns and rainbows come from?? Unicorns, mythologically, do not prance gleefully with rainbows, but rather keep themselves incredibly elusive while being desperately proud, pure, noble, strong, and, to some degree, fierce creatures, said only ever to approach virgin maidens, which is why Medieval writers associated them with Christ, who “raised up a horn of salvation” and dwelt in the womb of the Virgin Mary. Additionally, they are not the harmlessly frivolous creatures the world perceives them as today, but they were said to actually kill people who tried to catch them, or who pretended to be a virgin maiden.

I appreciate I am not being overly creative or imaginative right now. Allow me to rectify this issue.

I would love to be able to say I know all this about unicorns because I secretly have one residing in the little copse of trees in my back garden, and he spends many an hour telling me of his kind while painting rainbows with the magical touch of his hooves and creating a gloriously paradisal setting by turning early morning dewdrops into diamonds, but, alas, it is not so. I read some books.

Don’t get me wrong, I love the magical notion of unicorns, but magical in the sense of beautiful mystery, not dancing with leprechauns and fairies (and don’t get me started on fairies, that’s all wrong, too). Although I acknowledge the idea of the unicorn is something that has played on human imagination throughout the ages, personally I don’t think they should be the image of creativity. I have always viewed imagination/creativity to belong to the humble bird. Besides, if rainbows must be in the frame, then it is a bird that can fly away and ‘touch’ the sky-path of colour and dab the tips of its feather into the palette to paint the world as it sees fit. Birds are also the symbol of freedom, right? They are free to fly anywhere they like in the realm of IMAGINATION.

Sorry, that had to be done. But look, a rainbow!

Birds can swoop low or soar high; they can go wherever the urge takes them. And so can we, for our minds are birds, and they possess wings just waiting to stretch out and fly! Think of everything we could touch in the sky.

Which leads me nicely onto the next award.


Steven then nominated me for the Lighthouse Award, which is for blogs that bring light to a dark world.


This award excites me in equal amounts as the first one (and I appreciate I haven’t properly explained why I’m excited, but I’ll get to that at the end of this post). Firstly, this award seemed like a bit of a “coinkydink”, as Stevick put it. Earlier on in the day, before I saw that he had so kindly nominated me for this award, I was listening to a song that was strangely relevant:

‘A spark soaring down through the pouring rain and restoring life to the lighthouse. A slow motion wave on the ocean stirs my emotion up like a raincloud. When did the sky turn black? And when will the light come back?’ – Beautiful Times by Owl City (good ol’ Owl City, eh)

Anyone who follows my blog, or who has read my book, will probably already know how much I love to play with the concept of light and dark. It is something that means a lot to me, and is something I will always keep in my writing. It goes without saying, then, that the deeper, creative meaning behind lighthouses makes me, quite literally, beam. Inside and out.

Perhaps light and dark doesn’t have such endless possibilities as with a flying bird, but still, I believe it can be interpreted in a variety of ways. After all, rainbows are not the only things in the sky. What about the sun? The moon? The stars? There is endless light in the sky, so as long as you can see it, believe it, you will always hold its uplifting message in the palms of your hands – or nestled beneath your feathers 😉 And what about the light of the Son…?

The rules say I must share up to three ways in which I like to help people. Well…

And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love– 1 Corinthians 13:13

It says in the Bible that money is the root of all evil, so why not say love is the root of all that is good? For you cannot help another if you do not have love in your heart, can you? Kindness, compassion, charity – these are all products of love. So, that is my answer, plain and simple. Love.

Though, I also like to help people with words, whenever possible. I am a writer at heart, after all.

A good friend of mine came to visit me the other day, and, as he put it, we “gatecrashed Spring Harvest for the day.” Despite the fact I nearly threw him out his wheelchair (neither of us were paying attention ’cause we were looking at something, and I rammed the chair straight into the kerb. This is what happens when I’m left in charge), we had a really brilliant day. While I was there, I saw a top which I simply fell in love with, for some reason (I’m never like that with clothes), and my friend SO KINDLY treated me to it, even though I was there for about ten minutes trying to talk him out of it. But we must humbly receive.


I think that top to be quite appropriate right now, don’t you? You see that orange strip on the sleeve? John 15:9.

As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Now remain in my love.

But moving on from love, everyone wants a light in the dark, don’t they? Whether your light is Jesus, or whether your light is merely the meaning behind it all, that longing is the same. When you can see – or find – a light in the dark, does it not seem even more beautiful than you ever thought possible? It is a most precious thing.

Here are my nominations for the Lighthouse Award. The following are my lights in the dark. They are the lighthouse when I feel lost at sea, guiding me back to shore with a smile. They are the sun brightening my day. They are the stars glistening when the world falls into shadow. They are friends.

Rick at Jesus, Light of the World

Alex at Valourborn

James Radcliffe

Dear Sherri P at A View from My Summerhouse

Of course, Steven himself is also a lighthouse of mine.


So, there we have it. I am finished with awards. Though, now let me quickly explain further why these two mean so much. You may have already got the jist of it, but imagination/creativity is my life, given the story I am in the middle of writing as an author, and light in the dark is a massive part of my inspiration. I said in an earlier post (the Sunshine Award, I think) that I am going to start posting far more creative things from now on. When I first started this blog, I did so with the intention that this would be my ‘author blog’, and that I would promote my book and story through it… Well, I haven’t done that at all, really. So, I finally decided I would start to do that. If creative is what I am, I should be sharing that with the world, through stories and poems and through Ilimoskus itself.

And, do you know what? I’m actually going to start talking about my book more. Why shouldn’t I? I’ve always been shhhh hush hush about it, as though I am almost embarrassed to say that I have written a story. Well, that’s ridiculous, quite frankly. Get a grip, Jennifer. And again, do you know what? I have always played down how much Ilimoskus was inspired by my faith (that is, Christianity) in fear that it would put people off reading it, for I would hate them to think it’s a preachy tale (because it really isn’t), and also because I never particularly wanted people questioning me about it. But, no longer.

ILIMOSKUS is an environmental fantasy tale about a race of elemental beings (fire, earth, air and water) who live on Earth, unbeknown to humans. The first book of the trilogy is Times of Old, which takes the reader into a stark collision between fantasy and reality. It was inspired by nature, and God, and life. So there we go. 

  • It is fantasy because I love the imagination and freedom fantasy gives.
  • It is environmental because I love nature and the environment, and I care for it greatly. The world seriously needs to respect it more.
  • There is a stark collision between fantasy and reality because… read this post.
  • It is a trilogy because only when the three are put together is the whole story told. They are a trinity: three distinct existences, yet one tale. Does that remind you of anything? *coughs* The Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit *coughs*
  • It was inspired by nature because, as I said, I love nature, and I spend so much of my time looking at it, being with it, walking in it.
  • It was inspired by GOD because He is everything, and everywhere. And there is so much in between the lines of my story linking to Him. In fact, half the time it’s not even in between the lines, because characters just full on blurt it. He IS the lines, and the words. If you do happen to read my story, look at the Ilimoskus themselves. Just look. (How terribly convoluted of me there, but I can’t be giving it all away 😉 ).
  • It was inspired by life because, as with everyone, I’ve had some less ideal times, and writing is how I heal myself. I take my negativity and pain and turn it into something good, something creative, something priceless. Writing is my escape, but it is also my duty. Ilimoskus is a story of life. Birth, death, suffering, laughter, friendship, love, guilt, secrets, courage, wisdom, hope, faith, duty, betrayal, reconciliation, conflict, growing up! But, out of everything, the emotion is what it’s all about. At least for me.

“May the light from your heart always guide you”

Hey, look: light!

If you do actually have any questions about Ilimoskus, contact me and I’ll get back to you.

All glory to the Lord, because, without Him, I would be nothing. And Ilimoskus would not exist.

I hope everyone has a lovely Easter. Let’s think about the true meaning, and not just gorge on chocolate 😉