Today I’m pleased to announce the release of a new favorite children’s book of mine, “Tales from the waterhole, by Michael Coates. I had the privilege of editing this book for Michael, and I’m so excited to see it in print at last! There’s nothing quite like seeing someone’s words finally come to life, and I can’t wait to get my copy. Michael has released his book in four different formats. I have listed the links below if any of you are interested in buying a copy for yourself.
Have a wonderful week!
Here is the link to the specialized hardcover version on Lulu.
Or, if you’re a fan of Amazon, you can buy the book in three different formats over there, with an audible version coming soon.
Please leave comments for Michael by clicking here.
Do you have a muse, someone who inspires; do they always stand by you no matter what transpires. Do they turn your dull days into momentous occasions; do they motivate you with very little persuasion.
Have you found your soulmate, the one who anchors your feet; are they the sort of person who makes you feel complete. Have you captured the one who loves you as an equal; do they bring purpose to your life and not another boring sequel.
Do you belong to that someone who always helps you grow; are you with the one person you always wanted to know. Are you with that one love you can’t live without, or are you living your life full of endless days of doubt.
I watched the whole lot of them, the fence line sagging in protest. Each smoking and joking, eying up the classics on display. I found the sight troublesome knowing how boys will be boys, and as the cigarettes wore down, I could see their restless forms swaggering my way. Shivers ran down my spine as the jostling jokers spotted my gaze, and I tried to shrink into the backdrop, but the prowling had already begun. Darts of catcalling were hurled my way, each unsettling word, a dagger to the innocence of my soul. This act of playfulness reminded me of how a lion toys with its prey, and I knew once the hunt began, anything left of my dignity would not be spared. I tried to act inconspicuously, walking backward one trembling step at a time. But then the books I held began to slide right out of my arms, and the movement caused a chain reaction. Like red-flagged raging bulls, the whole bunch began to barrel my way. Caught in a panic, I tripped and fell, but the embedded asphalt was the least of my worries. I tried to stand but realized it was too late, the pride was already circling, waiting to pounce. In the end, my tormentors were too tough to deter and all I could do was fight with bated breath until my virtue no longer remained.
His words fester beneath the surface, weary words of disdain and ill repute. But what can I do, and how can I be anything more? For I am just another daughter, a regret still in the making. And my existence is a constant reminder of all he’s ever done wrong.
I’m thinking about people today, some of the ones I know and some I don’t. And I wonder why there are some, who never seem to respond, while others are just so willing to give everything. I have days when I can’t speak because I feel like everything will just come out wrong. Do you ever have days like that? Sometimes I just want to be alone with my thoughts. People take a lot out of me, I often feel their emotions weighing me down.