A HEART INSPIRED

Okay. Yesterday I posted "Why I Won't Be Reading Fifty Shades Of Grey" And you know what? My blog got hit 101 times in less than 10 hours. As a blogger/contributor I have access to my 'Stats'. 101 hits is great. It's epic for me. But guess what? I'm disappointed. Disappointed because even the mere mention of this book has women in a tizzy. They'll even read the negative reports. Well, yesterday I did portray my true feelings. But I'm thinking it was too bland. Obviously, what our culture wants and needs and thrives on is 'JUICE' ...I know this because I post lots of  'sweet' things and they do not get anywhere near the viewing audience. So here it is....    I WILL NOT BE READING THIS BOOK because; EROTIC, PORNOGRAPHIC, LUST KILLS RELATIONSHIPS. Plain and simple. It destroys families. It severs marriages. It demonizes true intimacy. It lends itself to fantasy that can never ever satisfy or fulfill. I. So. Am. Not. Cool. Pe

dressing table mirror and brush, curlers and pins and a whispered hush momma  and me in a fancy gown, we're getting dolled up to go on the town sashes tied and cheeks pinched pink, we look in the mirror to see what we think a dusting here and a little smudge there, momma smiles pulls back my hair the finishing touch and napkin kissed, I am sad for somethings been missed momma's worried she's good at caring, what could be wrong my little darling I want to be pretty just like you, isn't there something more we can do angel my love my precious bug, come sit on my lap and give me a hug momma brushes her lips on mine, I look in the mirror and see the shine lip gloss and mascara we're almost done, a few more touches maybe just one  rose water and a strand of pearls, daddy claps when he sees his girls a snap shot is taken and smiles are shared, all because a mother cared {Valentina Silver©️}

I've been holding back on you. It's true. I know I share personal details and hopes and even hard facts about mine and the kids lives. But....there is so much more to the story. I have very strong opinions about right and wrong. And, sometimes, I even blur the lines a little if it means getting away with something that I normally would scoff at. Its true. I have been pounding at this keyboard for the past two days, in order to reach my goal. Fifty Two posts in one year. I'm running a little behind. Well, because I didn't actually think I could do it, but I'm so close now. [This is Post Fifty] I started this blog on May 19th of last year. 2011. That was not such a good year for us. In some ways. It was a truly blessed year in a lot of others. I should be working on The Novel [ which is what I call it, because the Title hasn't come yet] . I tend to avoid things that I feel are intimidating. I don't feel intimidated by The Novel though, so I can't expla

For those of you who know me well, you know that I have always had strong judgements/opinions and glide on the border of being a prude. I stand by this depiction and wear it as a badge of honor. I will preface this by saying that in the recent years I have been blessed with a much less judgemental heart and attitude. And this, only by the Grace of the living God. Growing and learning each and every day I have come to trust and lean on the knowledge that He has the final say, which thankfully relieves me of the burden to condemn others. Not my job..., anymore. Yay! So please, please, please know that I am NOT judging, nor condemning; this statement particularly applying to those of you who are in the throngs of Mr. Christian Grey himself. I only know of this book's contents from a friend who is reading it. I personally have no desire to delve into the murky depths of this literature, for I am quite visual and tend to be more old school Catholic in terms of the guilt that would pla

{an excerpt from my work [ The Novel]; {© copyrighted and expressly owned by: A Whisper Beneath The Moon} Hope you enjoy it...let me know what you think. FYI...No, its not any shade of Grey. ~ ~ The view from the front porch hadn't changed a bit from her childhood. The porch itself, however, had not weathered so well against times gone by; worn out floorboards, battered shutters that stretched from floor to ceiling, handrails in desperate need of repair. Original windows and the old storm door with its awful squeak that made sneaking in or out almost impossible. Her family had been busy growing and living to notice such subtle erosion even occurring. Nothing that a small amount of attention couldn't remedy, she'd always reminded herself. Lisa loved the home just the way it was and always thought it odd how people allowed themselves to be overly consumed with every flaw of their own homes. Constantly tinkering and repairing each crack and freshening every chip of

bumble bee bumble bee buzzing at me, come on out from behind that tree you drip of honey and flap your wings, coming at me with your stings the sun is shining and the rain clouds low, full of droplets they let go summer showers and misty fog, creepy crawlers slip through the log lady bugs frogs lizards and toads, travelling across so many roads finding shelter as dusk draws near, amongst the quick and roaming dear hopscotch and leap frog lemonade and sun, all this and more in a days fun laughter and giggles boo boos and scrapes, as the kids march and traipse youthful glow and shimmery skin, the pond is glorious for a swim the day draws to an end, sunshine lollipops and a sweet friend {Valentina Silver}

moments measured by the beat of a heart, shreds of intimacy to discard the start of something fresh and new, watching and waiting as it grew ageless and youthful in its form, until the moment the veil is torn beauty and lust in the raw, a crimson trail is all they saw a burden to bear rigid and cross, stopping short of a deadly loss pearls of sweat remorse and regret, dismay and pity never forget one is not humbled nor ashamed, such is the fool who is not named double jeopardy and endless games, looking into empty frames darkness comes and sees you still, all alone and with no will driven by the game of life, dodging bullets full of strife               {Valentina Silver©️}                        

the story begins its woven through time, eclipsed by love heartache and rhyme the pages are written on whispers of chance, beguiled by melody rhythm and dance  through ages and ages the telling is dear, enchanting young maidens to shed a tear for a love to be earned desired and kept, nevertheless the lassies they wept the war was fought and the scar remains, fighting off the shackles and chains heroes and warriors honor and glory, all on the pages of the written story the centuries pass yet the tale is the same, the last man standing earns the fame the princess is won her love is pure, the knight in his armor does endure a white horse and trumpets that sound, for a love that was lost and turned up found the credits they roll and the lights they shine, on a story that lasts for all time                                                 {Valentina Silver©️}