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Laurel Turner #fibropoet with pencils for legs

Hi, I'm Laurel. I live on five acres in the foothills of the Cascades where I'm daily restored by God's creation in the midst of chronic fatigue and fibromyalgia. After studying the arts in London, I taught at the University of Washington while earning my Masters of Arts in the performance of literature. I am the retired founder of Over the Moon Storytelling. My published article won second prize in the nationally renowned Amy Foundation writing contest.

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A Note

September 05, 2023

A note

sounded the sky,

soared, snagged itself on stars--

steadied, straightened,

God reached out, hung

a chord.

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New Book On Amazon

Life in 33 Syllables or Less

Frog Song by Laurel Turner

Below birds a tune crouched, swelled up from the ground where gray-legged willows twirl and tell of soft air.

The Lament by Laurel Turner

Unveiled, she leans in, lays her head on shakes, breaths, lifted on the round shoulder of the lament.

Morning Star by Laurel Turner

Dew drenched, a fist unclenched, fingers taut in the dark-- my root spreads out to the waters— shoots squint.

Chronic Fatigue by Laurel Turner

Under water sand shifts, blurs. Edges of light bleed, fold, deplete deep genesis-like darkness.

YouTube Channel

FibroArtist

Mount Rainier

by N. T. Wright

"...The arts are not the pretty but irrelevant bits around the border of reality. They are the highways into the center of a reality which cannot be glimpsed, let alone grasped, any other way. ..."

Fire is the Essence of the poet--

White hot with the intensity of experience Contemplation is the state of a poet-- Savoring and saving the texture of life. Imagination is the material of the poet-- Clothing events with an accurate image. And discipline is demanded of a poet-- Lest the fire, contemplation, and imagination be lost. by Ann Daly, SNDdeN

This Is Us

by C. S. Lewis

"All their life in this world and all their adventures in Narnia had only been the cover and the title page: now at last they were beginning Chapter One of the Great Story which no one on earth has read: which goes on for ever: in which every chapter is better than the one before.” The Last Battle (1956)

by Laurel Turner

Winter Rainbow

Sun and purple mist,

shades of blue

melting snows,

glazed orange-reds drip

in evergreen echoes.

“For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror;

Then we shall see face to face. Now, I know in part;

Then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.”

1 Corinthians 13:12 NIV

"Arise, my darling, my beautiful one,

and come with me. See! The winter is past; ... "

Song of Solomon 2:10 NIV

The Sound Mother Made by Laurel Turner

"My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" The cry from the cross sobbed mother sobs, broke in father breaths; it stuck in His mouth like dry nursery rhymes in the death before our death and life.

New York River by Laurel Turner

Under scaffolding, over oncoming-- tilt, bob, weave-- a torrent of umbrellas splashes down the street. “This resurrection life you received from God is not a timid, grave-tending life. It’s adventurously expectant, greeting God with a childlike ‘What’s next, Papa?’

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