Writing Wings For You

Marie Lukasik Wallace ~ # I LIVE Poetry – I'm passionate about life and writing and all things creative and poetic!


Authors UNITE! The Power of Collaborating with Other Authors

10407817_10152697730084374_9058941181779593293_n 10550938_10152697729874374_6427850189847960333_n 10552373_10152697731434374_3726300815886810718_n (2)celebrating my book with me!


This weekend, I’m on an amazing retreat with New York Times Best Selling Author, Bridget Cook and 3 other authors.  It’s been an amazing collaboration of minds.  Each person in this group has so many gifts and talents to share.  We’re putting together our BOOK PROPOSALS.   Wow, is that quite the feat.  What is beautiful about this experience is that when we get stuck in an area, there are all these fabulous minds that put together ideas to get you moving along.  It’s fabulous!   They push my limits.  They help me grow.  They  expand my thinking.  They assist me in dreaming far beyond what I ever thought I could do.

I’m excited about how my message of the miraculous power and possibility of healing families will get out. 

I’m also excited about the possibilities of showing how writing can heal my own soul.  There are so many cool wicked tools.to help others in learning to transform their own lives.  

For now, I’m off to get the hard work done…well, it’s not so hard.  THIS GROUP IS REALLY FUN! I’ll post more later.

By the way, Bridget Cook is an AWESOME WRITING COACH and the amazing author of The Witness Who Wore Red…They just did a repeat of a Dateline 2 hour special called “Unbreakable.” An extreme story of courage of an FLDS woman.  I attached a link.  She is a great speaker on a difficult topic.

And if you want a TOP NOTCH, Intuitive, inspirational writing coach, check out her retreats at “Inspired Leagacy.”   It is worth every penny.  


Hearts in Chains be Free


Sweet spirit
Hearts in chains
How I wish I had
the keys to your locks
Set you free
Alas, you are
the only one with
secret key

Image taken from Google free images: this was
for a song by Roseanne Cash


Bloom Where You are Planted

To my dearest friend Annie who inspired me and then to my beautiful sunflower who grew for me in a place left untended.  A gentle reminder to us all.



Heart Melt Alert! – TTH

My grandson found this picture on my coffee table and said, “Who is this cute baby?”  I told him it was me.  He said, “Grammy, you were such a cute baby, no wonder you are so pretty now!”  My heart melted.

(But there’s so much more to this picture.)


What?  Where did this come from?  Yes, that’s me, but this is the first time I’ve ever seen this picture, and it’s fifty years old!  I found it this summer when I was helping my dad do some cleaning at his house.  I was shocked.  I have two baby pictures.  Two.   And those two show a little waif during the summer time in her underwear…in one, I’m carefree in the sprinklers, cooling off from the boiling Texas heat.  Cool pictures, but I don’t look like I belong to anyone.  Once my friend took out her pile of baby pictures to show me, and I didn’t have one picture at the time to show her. The interesting part about that is that I’m the oldest!  (There should be a plethora of pictures!)

But this picture…this picture is special…it’s me..me and my daddy, and what he loved most, cars, especially his Oldsmobile.  He does look nervous holding me. 

Why is this picture important to me?  You see, I’ve been writing my dad’s story.  It’s a story of a “vaulted” man who hasn’t talked much more than about the weather and fishing, and occasionally on a good day about cars. When it comes to writing the book, it’s been a challenge because either he doesn’t remember  (he has Alzheimer’s) or because he doesn’t give me juicy details or emotion.  (There’s not even an essence of a story for me to write from.)  Last week, it was time for me to write the portion of my dad’s story of when he first became a dad.  This picture gave me the courage to go deeper, and it was a picture my dad could remember.

On the phone, my daddy said, “You want to know about when you were born?”  His voice was high pitched and had an excited tone.  “Why yes, dad, that would be awesome!”  I NEVER heard my dad with this much  fervor telling me about something.  So, for about ten minutes with full on expression (and I imagine lots of hand gestures) my dad weaved the most elaborate story I’ve EVER heard him tell. 

Daddy proceed with  giving me descriptive details of his trauma of being a new dad.  No one told him how long it would take for mom to deliver me, several days, or most importantly, how ugly I would look with all goo still on me when they plopped me in his hands.

“What happened to my baby?” he asked the nurses.  They hadn’t prepared him to see all the blood and ick on me, let alone what the forceps would do in giving a baby an exceptionally elongated alien head.  He was sure that baby was not his.  I looked nothing like those beautifully cleaned up babies he had seen on television.

Daddy painted the picture of how nervous he was when the nurse handed me to him (with all the goo).  “I was so afraid I would drop you because you were so tiny, and I had never held anything so tiny before.  I didn’t want to break you.”

To many, this brief telephone interaction may not be much, but I remember smiling ear to ear and being so proud that I got a chance to hear my dad tell a story from his heart all animated.  When the call was over, I was terribly disappointed, because of all the calls I’ve recorded, this would be the one I would cherish forever…but alas, on this day, that beautiful conversation would only be between me and daddy, and it will remain near and dear to my heart.


The Mirror Decides to Speak

Many years ago, while going assisting a friend of getting out of a toxic relationship, I was inspired to write a poem.  You see, when a woman is abused, physically, sexually or emotionally, there are scars that won’t heal, like the ones that tell you that you are less than worthy, and no matter who else talks to her of her beauty, even people who know her inside and out, she won’t believe it.  She believes she has brought this disgrace and shame upon herself and that she deserves the treatment. Someday, I want to be that mirror that reminds those women of their beauty and reflect true images.  Upon reading this to a friend, he remind me that this could hold true for anyone. *


Woman in the Mirror

Brushing her grizzled hair

She gapes emotionless in the mirror

Battered, bruised

Tattered, confused


A spy could not detect

What she witnesses…

The shattering On the inside


The image looks fuzzy

So she asks him

What do you see?


His reply:

“A dandelion

Lawn cluttering pest

grass choker



Inside she crumbles

believes he is right

puts her brush away

and cries her self to sleep.

_ _ _ _ _

“But please, please Ask me,”

the mirror begs.

“But don’t just ask me…

Believe me…”


For I have known you best

I have appraised

your heart  and soul

since you were a little girl


I have no intentions

Nor desire

to distort you Or lie to you

Only to reflect what I see.


You…you my dearest…  


You are a lily, A day lily

With its radiant face to the sun

You, who blossom With the slightest ray

You who invite with Arms flung open wide


To allow the drink of your nectar

You, who provide the Bees

with the sweetest Of nutrients

for their honey


Look… look closely

Your lines are not Prickly needles

Look even closer,

The lines, Your lines

Softly curve and flow




Look again

You are unwrapped

You invite

You inspire a second look


In this breathless moment…

You are cherished

You are valued

You are amazingly beautiful. 



  Day Lily with arms flung wide open.


GIVE ME YOUR WORDS! – Word donations for Word Warrior Wednesday

untitledNo, I haven’t gone to the other side.  I love my Wordless Wednesdays, and I have enough pictures to fill many Wednesdays to come…especially nature and art.  I’ve been truly blessed this summer.

However, along with it, I’d like to start a new tradition.  GIVE ME YOUR WORDS!

In Poetry Therapy, I teach using Poetry as a medium to assist others in healing.  They don’t have to write poetry…just enjoy it.  Writing is part of the therapy, but students only need to be able to write a postcard or a letter to feel the magical healing powers.

There is an exercise we do that has really cool words we might not hear everyday.  We might not have heard them in a really long time.  Or, we might have heard them from our parents, grandparents, neighbors, or crazy aunts.   Words like:  bamboozle, gargantuan, whackadoodle.

I NEED THEM for exercises for my clients…HERE’s YOUR CHANCE!

I can’t wait to see what you come up with.  PLEASE?  Even if it’s only one word.

a most gracious thank you,

~ Marie  :0)


To LIVE Poetry – A Writing Challenge and a Poem

This weekend I wrote a quote (rewritten below).  My intention was to create

a more purposeful life.  If I LIVED poetry, what would that look like?



To live Poetry


Inhale the crisp brilliant air


filled with all things fiery and impassioned,


Nature, art, song, words


Pregnant with the seeds of


Love, peace,


possibility and hope


Inspiration oxygen


permeating my blood


and winding its way


through my physical body


deepening into the tissues


Of my soul.


Write it!



WRITING CHALLENGE:  Now, it’s your turn!  What would it look like if  YOU LIVED POETRY?

It can be a poem or an essay, a quote, or a few words are two.  How does it inspire you to look at life differently?

Just as in the past, I will post what you write and link it back to you.  I can’t wait to hear what you say, because I know your words are magic.  Don’t forget to tell your friends!  

Ribbet collage-I live poetry