Wednesday, November 30, 2011


Plodding in the afterglow
through yesterday's mistake,
finding that all is good
and efforts are replaced
by countless grains of
goodness brought
by deeds of selflessness

The sparrow doesn't
know the cost of
wars, plots and schemes;
it flies no less in single flight
along the slender plain to
find it's soul mate and it's 
life, to breathe and live and die

The destitute can all be one
even if though rich,
and life can only begin
when self is lost and
others gain by giving,
love and peace 
@gmcknight 2011

Monday, November 28, 2011

Jessica McHugh, Author

Jessica McHugh is an author of speculative fiction that spans the genre from horror and alternate history to epic fantasy. A prolific writer, she has devoted herself to novels, short stories, poetry, and playwriting. She has had ten books published in three years, including "Rabbits in the Garden", "The Sky: The World" and the first three installments in her "Tales of Dominhydor" series. More info on Jessica's speculations and publications can be found at

Welcome Jessica!

Where are you from?

I grew up in Hampstead, Maryland where imagination was essential. Well, I suppose I could've gotten into sex and drugs to combat boredom, but I was saving that for my twenties. 

When did you begin writing? 

I always wrote, but I started writing seriously when I was 19. I worked for 11 hours a day at a perfume kiosk that didn't sell much perfume, so naturally I had to find something to occupy the time. I read a lot, especially macabre short stories. One day, I just started writing my own. I still have that first notebook, filled with not-great but not-terrible short stories and the beginnings of my first novel "Maladrid".

Out of the Woods 
A poem by Jessica McHugh  

I walk the stone-fields of home, watching industry turn alpine 
And craft too many houses with too few backyards. 
The old manor at the foot of the knotted Hampstead hill is gone.
What happened to the squatter, I will never know, 
But I imagine him somewhere below the pavement, 
Knocking on the sidewalk's underside 
And begging for something I still cannot give. 
I stomp and he knocks back, 
Letting me know we are likewise entombed. 
Past the squatter's lot, the bramble-lined paths we cut with sticks-turned-swords 
Are only roads now. 
They turn with an ease that trees refuse
And lead travelers too readily out of the woods.
As a child, I hoped I'd never find my way out.   


Monday, November 21, 2011


Catching falling stars while
Standing in the drops,
Soaking me down;
And maybe there are seasons
And maybe time exists
Where mirrors bloom
And reflections digress;
I will meet you there

Changing night to day while
The ibis flies to anchor,
Feeling vulnerable, weak and frail;
And maybe there is forgiveness
And maybe we are free
Where meadows banter
And fauna approves;
I will linger there

Find me in the sanctuary
Laced around the spirits,
Bartering for my life;
And maybe there’s a rendezvous
And maybe this is real
Where falls cascade
And life begins;
I will be waiting there

© Gina McKnight 2011

Sunday, November 20, 2011

Jock: Female Jockey Documentary

"Only 11 days left to reach our goal for the female jockey documentary, JOCK. Check out the link, video, and rewards." Jason Neff Jock....

JOCK is a feature length documentary about three generations of female athletes who followed their passion to fulfill their dreams of becoming professional jockeys. Their love for horses and never ending devotion for the sport transformed their lives as much as the face of horse racing for ever.

Tuesday, November 15, 2011


Breathing epic aspirations,
your compassion resonates
in boisterous waves,

Imitating heroism,
reflecting weathered effeminate;
your countenance is
velvet and steel,
overdosing on victories,
collecting hearts,

Tenderness and strength
propels universal emotions;
manhood and deity,
a green mirror of ideals,

© Gina McKnight 2011

Friday, November 4, 2011


Thoughts of you will not stop
they twine roots and vine like ivy,
my being whirls from soft refrains,
knee deep, bold and envy

To be close to you and in your space
amongst the things you hold dear,
grip the things we cannot see,
hope, faith, dreams far and near

The day your eyes reflect in mine,
a pool of blue, a sultry hue,
released and free the soul can live
while being near to you

@gmcknight '11

My Mare Ivy's Mane

Stuff & Nonsense: Introducing Celeste Parsons, Ohio Writer

Greetings from southeastern Ohio! My name is Celeste Parsons, and I live here on a 48-acre former dairy farm with my husband Jim, our Westie...