Jealousy is such an ugly beast,
Consuming in a ruthless feast,
Every thought of rational notions
Or capacity for gentler emotions,
About Belinda Stotler
- visit Website
- on Facebook
- on Twitter
- on Instagram
The Self-Defeating Consequences Of Jealousy
Jealousy is such an ugly beast,
Exploring Life's Possibilities
in Ocean Poems
The perpetual cadence of the vast sea
Stirs a restless desire that engulfs me.
Like an infinite force I dare not impede,
Briefly rushing in - only to then recede.Featured Shared Story
I used to think that I was nothing, but I'm not anything - I am something - that is a talented, intelligent, calm, kind, pretty, artistic, unique girl who is loved by everyone around me. I...
Feeling Connected To The Forests And Nature
Leaves fluttering on a gentle breeze,
Within the forest of whispering trees,
Makes sunlight gracefully dance there,
Upon the ground and everywhere.Featured Shared Story
This poem touches my heart deeply because I enjoy practicing/learning/enjoying/reading/memorizing descriptive poems (in this case about nature's beauties), especially when the words fill the...
Poem About Beauty Of Forest And Trees
Come, walk with me into the forest's blessed abode,
To see the wondrous beauty the Earth has bestowed;
We'll bask in the surreal splendor that surrounds us,
And listen to nature composing the forest's grand opus,Featured Shared Story
I began writing "The Forest's Blessed Abode" about a month after I returned from a trip to Alaska and Canada, where I saw some of the loveliest forests and surreal scenery I have ever seen....
Poems by Belinda Stotler
I am so sorry for the sudden loss of your little sister. Grief can overwhelm anyone, regardless of your age. My sister was 50 years old when she suddenly died, and it was a heartbreak I'd never felt. I read lots of articles on coping with grief to help me, plus a book I'd recommend entitled, "I Wasn't Ready to Say Goodbye: Surviving, Coping and Healing After the Sudden Death of a Loved One" (by Brook Noel). Talk about your grief, write a journal of how you feel and memories of your sister. I poured my grief into a journal to help get it out of my mind. Reading back that journal helped me realize my sister is part of who I am, and how much she loved me and would be sad knowing her death was breaking my heart. I have never written a poem until Brenda's death. The idea to write "Missing My Sister" and the words for it came from my journal. It's hard to find the words to express grief's deep pain or to share it. I am glad I shared my poem, because the comments have helped me and others.
I began writing "The Forest's Blessed Abode" about a month after I returned from a trip to Alaska and Canada, where I saw some of the loveliest forests and surreal scenery I have ever seen. As a child, I was always in the woods whenever I got the chance for long walks, to climb trees, or sit near clear forest streams. The forests do feel like a temple to me, where I feel connected to it, as well as at peace, protected, and nurtured. The forests have taught me a deep respect for all of the living species dependent upon it through every season. I am in awe of how it all blends to form symbiotic relationships that ensure survival for not only the species living in the forests, but also its important role in supporting our entire planet's environment. I hope my poem not only inspires people to reconnect with themselves and enjoy the miraculous life and natural beauty there but to become staunch defenders in protecting the forests from those that would destroy them for profit.
I have done a lot of genealogy research and have visited quite a few cemeteries. Some of them were small and very old, and some of them neglected. I took up genealogy to discover my roots and a woman I worked with, who was a Mormon, encouraged me to do so. Mormon's have collected vast amounts of genealogy data on many people and they share it willing with anyone, regardless of their faith. My co-worker explained that Mormons believe they'll meet all of their ancestors when they pass from this life and feel they should know who it is they're going to meet. It's sad to see neglected graves where their headstones are fading and crumbling from passing time. The poem is in memory of those we love, but its message is also to remind us of how short life is and to spend as much time as we can with our loved ones. The memories are all we living have to sustain until we see them again and it's the best gift we can leave loved ones when we pass on.
My sister just loss someone and compared them to a butterfly which shows us "what a soft touch is like and the beauty of what love could be, but after a short time in our lives they die. So why did the butterflies have to die?" So I wrote this to her and hope it helps you: "Nothing lasts forever, and when it ends it disrupts our minds; we feel something is missing and long to have it back the way it was. Eventually, we must accept that it won't ever be like it was and try to adjust. There are memories we cherish and some we won't and lessons we learned that make us wiser and perhaps a better person. Instead of mourning what will never be again, think of what you would have never had had that person never been in your life. Each life touches others in so many different ways, either positively or negatively, but it helps you grow into a better person. There are many butterflies that fly into our lives. We need to look for them and cherish the time we have with them while it lasts."
Grief is a long dark journey and there's no timeline when it eases enough to live again. All I can tell you is about my journey and hope it somehow helps. When my sister, Brenda, died I poured my feelings into a journal, talked to family, read poetry and began to write my own poems. I wrote what I loved about her, the wonderful memories, her impact on my life and how fortunate I was to know her. In time, I remembered she loved me as much as I loved her, and would never want me suffering, just as I would not have wanted that for her had I died first. She also came to me in a dream one morning, and told me she was in a beautiful place with our Mom and others who'd passed before her. That dream was the most realistic dream I'd ever had and gave me hope. I still cry sometimes because I miss her so, but I also think of the overwhelming joy when I see her again, and when I do, it will be forever. I wrote Seasons of Grief after I emerged from my dark place and published it to help others.