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In the works …

April 22, 2014

Good Day and Welcome Back Visitors!

Refreshed by the rain pouring down this morning, cleaning off the debris of the winter season, turning the grass a brilliant shade of green and uplifting my spirit with the joy of spring, I am happily thinking of all the work to be done the next few weeks:

12 more poems to write as part of the NaNoWriMo Camp 2014 and NaPoWriMo 2014 challenges as part of National Poetry Month.

The book cover artwork for the novel, DARK HORSES.

The final revisions to the play, Charles’ Choice, for schools to purchase and present to their students, staff and communities, delivering the message, in a variety of ways, that every one is valuable and how to demonstrate this core belief in words and actions … for their own benefit and for the benefit of us all.

The White Paper regarding the Connecting the Dots … with The RESPECT PRINCIPLE and its value as a positive leadership catalyst for Change Management and Organization Excellence.

And, of course, negotiating the resulting publishing, sales and consulting endeavors, along with whatever other life changes are coming my way.

Best wishes to you for your own endeavors and life changes.

See you soon!

Kaitlin

April 22, 2014

Kaitlin A. Trepanier
http://www.kaitlinatrepanier.com

All Rights Reserved by DARK HORSES PRODUCTIONS/KAITLIN A. TREPANIER … Advocate, Creative Writer and The RESPECT SPECIALIST responsible for the creation of the global initiative Connecting the Dots … with The RESPECT PRINCIPLE … because every child … every person … should know, by their own experience, they are valued … RESPECTED.

Poem #18 A Confident Man … for the book, RESPECT … The Way Back into Love

April 21, 2014

Poem #18
 
A Confident Man

 
A confident man
knows he
is not defined
by what he has,
what he has power over
because he knows power over
is a lie the world tells …
the dark, fearful world
the fearful ones create.
 
A power-filled man
knows he
is not the source
but the conduit
of the power …
not possible to steal
try and try as others might
never can they succeed.
 
A leading man
knows he
does not rule, but guards,
protects, assists, provides
… listening his most powerful tool
more than any might
inspiring those he leads
to choose his lead.
 
A partnered man
knows he
needs his partner too
not afraid to ask about
what he does not know …
not controlling, strong and true
he yields to the sum
of the greater two …
because he is a confident man.

… and confident women knows this as truth.
 
April 20, 2014,
Later Easter Sunday
 
Kaitlin A. Trepanier
http://www.kaitlinatrepanier.com

All Rights Reserved by DARK HORSES PRODUCTIONS/KAITLIN A. TREPANIER … Advocate, Creative Writer and The RESPECT SPECIALIST responsible for the creation of the global initiative Connecting the Dots … with The RESPECT PRINCIPLE … because every child … every person … should know, by their own experience, they are valued … RESPECTED.

Poem #17 Authority Speaks 3rd of the 3 poems written today for LBY … A Devotional for Returning, New and Non-Believers

April 20, 2014

#17
Poem #17
 
Authority Speaks
 
From the heart
filled with God’s love
I will heed …
but all others’ fade,
authority,
not of man,
but of Christ’s
… the only authority
I need
… the only authority
I heed.
 
April 20, 2014
Easter Sunday

Kaitlin A. Trepanier
http://www.kaitlinatrepanier.com

All Rights Reserved by DARK HORSES PRODUCTIONS/KAITLIN A. TREPANIER … Advocate, Creative Writer and The RESPECT SPECIALIST responsible for the creation of the global initiative Connecting the Dots … with The RESPECT PRINCIPLE … because every child … every person … should know, by their own experience, they are valued … RESPECTED

Poem #16 Happy, Happy Day! 2nd of the 3rd poem written today for the book, Life Before You …

April 20, 2014

Poem #15
 
O Happy, Happy Day
 
God is great
as is His love …
nothing fills
like His eternal love …
 
Alone no more …
accompanied by Him
morning till night
the whole hours
through.
 
Alone no more …
blessed by Him,
life is bright
darkness gone
forever more.
 
Alone no more …
filled with Him,
Prince of Peace
reigns
in my world
 
Alone no more,
never more …
Alone no more
Alone no more
… never more
never more
will I ever be alone.
 
Never, ever alone
or unloved again.
 
O happy, happy day!
O happy, happy day!
 
April 20, 2014
 
Written Easter Sunday
for the book of poems,
Life Before You
A Devotional for Returning, New and Non-Believers
 
Kaitlin A. Trepanier
http://www.kaitlinatrepanier.com

All Rights Reserved by DARK HORSES PRODUCTIONS/KAITLIN A. TREPANIER … Advocate, Creative Writer and The RESPECT SPECIALIST responsible for the creation of the global initiative Connecting the Dots … with The RESPECT PRINCIPLE … because every child … every person … should know, by their own experience, they are valued … RESPECTED.</strong>

Poem #15 Worthy … 1 of the 3 poems written this Easter Sunday morning

April 20, 2014

Poem #15
 
Worthy
 
Created
to be
whole, healthy
and
full of love
at birth …
but the darkness
in this world
weighs
heavy upon us
and
not knowing,
not remembering,
being conditioned,
heavy laden
with
the burden
of the dark
we sometimes
lose … briefly
the love
poured into us
at the start
for none of
His creations
are without love,
are formed without love
… so when you ask
He will fill you
once more
with the love
to overcome anything
this world
throws at you
so just ask …
and He will fill you
till you overflow
with love once again
for in His loving eyes
all His creations are
worthy …
right from the very start.
 
April 20, 2014
Written Easter Sunday
for the book of poems,
Life Before You
A Devotional for Returning, New and Non-Believers

Kaitlin A. Trepanier
http://www.kaitlinatrepanier.com

All Rights Reserved by DARK HORSES PRODUCTIONS/KAITLIN A. TREPANIER … Advocate, Creative Writer and The RESPECT SPECIALIST responsible for the creation of the global initiative Connecting the Dots … with The RESPECT PRINCIPLE … because every child … every person … should know, by their own experience, they are valued … RESPECTED.

Poem #14 DARK HORSES … The original short story adapted to poetry form and my personal favorite

April 18, 2014

DARK HORSES
 
The Poem
 
Based on the original short story
 
 
His skittish moves,
marked by his advances and retreats,
his curious, yet untrusting eyes,
reminded me of wild horses;
the ones who captured my heart as a young girl.
 
Proud and determined,
his features were set in a stance of defiance,
protecting his sacred attribute;
his wildness.
His untamed heart.
His broken heart.
 
He did not understand,
I did not wish to tame him,
break his spirit of wildness,
but only that I wished to unleash mine;
to share, and match mine with his.
 
There was no saddle,
no reins, and no bridle
I carried in my hands, though slowly,
I was beginning to see that was how he viewed
what I was attempting to offer him.
Slowly, I was beginning to see through his eyes,
the threat he perceived from experience past.
 
He was no yearling any longer,
but the memories of those years,
how he sold his spirit of wildness
in exchange for comfort,
for the smooth hands on his muscled flesh
and a false sense of security tucked inside a shelter
left him scarred and bitter.
And afraid.
Determined to not ever be penned again,
for the price he had paid almost destroyed his spirit.
Almost, but not completely.
This is the end of his story.
 
 
His wildness rose again in him that night.
The air whipped the doors of the barn
and the wind howled like a banshee.
Rain pelted the roof like a flock of mad woodpeckers.
His nostrils flared with the breath of fresh wind
and his instincts kept urging him to go outside.
His muscles twitched.
His legs pranced
and danced his body into restlessness.
 
From the recesses of his heart,
his wildness rose with the crescendo of the wind.
A proud head shook itself,
clearing the debris of broken dreams
as he paced the boundaries of his cage;
the space confining him.
 
He thought it was them,
others, who had tamed him,
lured him into a life of complacency,
but it was he who enjoyed, for a while,
the surety of the food, shelter and attention
they lavished on him
in exchange for the beauty of his flesh.
 
He had been magnificent.
Proud and fierce, strong and wild,
beautiful to the eye and touch.
But as time went on,
penned and caged,
his wildness faded;
as did their care for him.
 
No longer did they see the magnificent beast
promising them their own release.
Instead, they began to see
his flesh yield to softness
as his body atrophied
from lack of mobility and freedom.
 
His coat,
which had been so dark and brilliant,
capturing the rays of light and reflecting hues
from gold to copper and a deep blue-black,
now was lacklustre and unkempt.
 
For them,
he had lost the beauty compelling them
to tame his heart with the soothing promises,
the deceiving hands,
and the touch
that really only ran along the surface of his flesh.
 
With all their supposed care,
they were blinded to the effect
their taming and training had on him.
They had not noticed his light grow dim
until there was little left but an occasional spark.
To them, he had just grown old,
no longer exhilarating to behold.
 
They could not see how what they had done
created something they did not really want,
but what they thought they wanted.
They had convinced him,
as well as themselves,
that it was all for the best
to be oh so tamed, protected and safe.
 
But they were wrong.
So was he.
So they let him go.
They opened the gate and walked away,
but he did not know what to do.
He stood stunned and confused,
wondering why he was being discarded;
abandoned.
Did they not love him anymore?
Could they only see the matted coat,
which had grown from un-tending hands?
Could they not see the dim flame,
which was still housed in his heart
and the wildness,
which hid behind those eyes?
 
As they walked away from the open gate,
they did not even turn back for one last glance.
He was shocked,
but they were jaded, as was he.
For a long time he paced,
then walked the space,
waiting for them to return
to bring his food, stroke his coat
and to whisper sweet words.
 
No one came.
 
His pace stopped
and he huddled in a corner
as the storms came,
for there was no one to lead him to shelter.
His own instincts had not yet returned
to lead himself to protection.
He grew hungrier and thinner
and his coat became even more matted
from the debris of the time and the season.
He had given up.
 
Then, one night,
as the clouds parted and the flash
from the lightning lit the hilltop to the west of him,
she came.
He smelled her first.
An almost new,
yet a slightly familiar but almost forgotten scent,
assaulted his nostrils.
 
With a small jolt,
like the lightning itself had struck him,
he felt a strike within him
that flared the small spark still inside of him.
He looked up and saw her shape,
proud and magnificent atop the hill,
her mane flowing in the wind,
muscles rippling as she pranced and called for him.
 
His heart jumped,
but then he looked around his pen,
his home and consoled himself
this was his place;
where he should stay.
He had forgotten what freedom felt like
and he was so afraid from the choices he had made before.
 
His head dropped once more,
choosing to remain.
 
She called to him again,
her voice carried to him on the wind.
There was promise in her voice,
but unlike that he had known.
There was no saddle on her back;
no reins or bridle held her prisoner.
There was no food she offered;
no soothing hands she promised.
She was just there; alone, wild and free.
 
And she called to him once more
as the air crackled and then roared,
reaching deep into his heart,
fanning the tiny flame of wildness buried in him so long ago.
He shook his head in refusal,
though his body now moved to the open gate,
which had been there all along, waiting.
 
As the storm grew in intensity, so did his own fire.
 
Once again, he looked to her,
saw her silhouette and felt a pull towards her.
She was beautiful
and desire rose in him unlike before.
He felt promise and hope stir,
but he looked to the open gate where they had abandoned him
to let him go his own way as they went theirs
and his defiance rose,
matching,
exceeding
the wildness growing in him.
 
He turned from her,
shunning the desires arising in him.
Freedom he wanted,
not another to tame him.
 
His body began to carry him forward.
Thrashing about in the pen,
his long limbs strode the ground as his hooves buried deep,
anger and outrage deepening his steps.
Fury seized hold as adrenalin pumped;
his heart raced and his eyes grew wilder with intent.
With newfound strength, his muscles flexed
as his eyes took in the open gate,
but his heart screamed “No, not the gate!”
 
He felt his body pick up speed
and as his legs hurled him over the wooden slats of his prison,
his heart and body soared
as he bounded over his safety net,
only to come crashing down on the other side,
his body weak and not used to such physicality any longer.
 
He heard her silence;
felt her waiting as she watched him fall.
She whispered softly,
“Yes you can. You are so much more than what you have come to believe.”
 
His breathing heaved,
muscles ached in protest,
yet his own heart whispered too,
“Yes, you are so much more than what you have come to believe.”
 
The rain poured over his matted coat,
washing away the debris of pain.
 
He lay there,
torn about what to do next.
His eyes scanned the horizon taking her in once again.
She was standing there now,
so bold, strong and beautiful,
but he quickly reminded himself how he had been deceived by beauty before.
Promises of the past and the sting of abandonment and betrayal
coursed through him.
His mane danced as he raised his noble head once more in defiance.
“I will not be deceived again,” he chided himself.
He was free now and never wanted to be penned again.
 
But she was in no pen;
she was free.
 
His nostrils flared again
as the familiar scent drifted onto his senses.
His body stilled as he tried to remember
where had he encountered that scent before.
Not from those before he found,
as his mind searched his banks of memory.
“Where?” he rummaged in his mind as his body rose with renewed strength,
sparking his muscles into action.
 
Her eyes remained fixed on him.
As the storm whipped the slash of rain about her,
she did not yield from her stance.
Instead, she seemed to savor the rampage nature threw at her.
Her chiselled face rose to meet the wind,
to drink in the freshness of the air.
Her body swayed,
yielding, but firm.
She no longer called to him;
her voice silent.
Only her presence the invitation she extended.
 
He turned his head from her;
scanned the horizon to the east.
His eyes fixed on the light where he knew his familiars lived.
Memories tugged at him to head for what he had known.
Surely, now that he was free,
they would come to him.
 
A door opened
and across the threshold they came;
sweet voices and promises as they saw his coat shine and gleam again,
catching the flashes of light.
His heart quickened
as his body carried him forward towards them,
though his steps were heavy and his head was lowered.
He saw their extended hands,
felt the smoothness of their touch as he drew closer to them,
those of old.
 
But he knew her eyes were still on him.
He sensed her disappointment
that he was giving in to those of old,
but he did not know it was for him, not her, that she was disappointed.
She knew he was close to dying
and death would soon find him
if he chose as his actions spoke.
 
The skies quieted
as blackness and stillness enveloped him.
His motions seemed to slow
as he watched himself succumb to them,
those of old.
He saw his lowered head,
his tentative steps as they begged him to return to them.
He heard their words promise safety and familiarity,
but as he drew closer,
he felt their empty coldness wash over him
as promises fell to the ground
and became stuck in the mud now covering the wet earth.
 
With a resounding crash,
the sky burst into brightness;
the air crackled with warning.
He froze.
His heart stopped briefly.
 
Her voice called to him once more
with an invitation to the unknown
and his memory regained the insight that the scent,
which he had searched for was his own;
his own wildness.
That was what she promised.
Nothing more.
Nothing less.
 
He threw back his head
and his body rippled in response
as muscles breathed and stretched,
turning him towards her.
 
With a final glance to them again,
those of old,
he saw their masks fall from their faces,
revealing their true intents of pens and taming.
He saw the ropes in their hands
no longer hidden behind their backs.
And as one of the ropes
flew through the air to capture him once again,
his wildness rose to such a pitch
that he turned swiftly on agile steps
and soared toward the hilltop where she waited.
 
He did not know what lay beyond
or with her,
but he knew he was more than what he had become.
No promises or sweet seductions;
an invitation only …
to be free, to be wild, beside and with her.
Two dark horses, they were.
We are.
Not content, unless wild and free,
unleashing the best we have yet to be.
 
 
This is the beginning of our story.
 
 
2020 words
 
 
Today, this is dedicated to Steve and the experience that inspired the original short story many years ago, recently the fiction novel of the same name, the new book which is a collection of poems, including this one, and to this day remains my favourite piece of writing I have written to date.
 
 
 
April 18, 2014

Kaitlin A. Trepanier
http://www.kaitlinatrepanier.com
All Rights Reserved by DARK HORSES PRODUCTIONS/KAITLIN A. TREPANIER … Advocate, Creative Writer and The RESPECT SPECIALIST responsible for the creation of the global initiative Connecting the Dots … with The RESPECT PRINCIPLE … because every child … every person … should know, by their own experience, they are valued … RESPECTED.

Dynamic Duo! Connecting the Dots … with The RESPECT PRINCIPLE and Suze Orman’s The MONEY CLASS

April 16, 2014

It does not matter how much money we make, without a high enough RESPECT LEVEL, we will still spend more than we make. Speaking from experience and the debt statistics, especially credit card debt and mortgage debt, many of us have at times acted like children given a free rein in a candy shop … ultimately making ourselves sick by not having a high enough RESPECT LEVEL empowering us to make good financial decisions … forcing us to feel sick to our stomach, either from all the junk we have eaten or because of the overdue bills that keep arriving in our mailbox.

Even after achieving Honours in Business Administration at age twenty-nine, I still did not get it. What I did get was a much better income and because conditioned ways of thinking about money and debt were still rooted in my mind, I also generated a lot more debt … because that is what we do, so the statistics stories say is true.

Even when I wanted to change my lifestyle and career to set my life on a better course doing what I wanted to do, the old way of thinking was still rooted deep in me and I made many more not-so-great choices that negatively affected my life and the lives of many others.

And even a few years ago, though my RESPECT LEVEL had risen some because of my dedicated efforts, I realized too late I was still facing the same foe … and though I had been free and clear of debt for years, back on the same horse I climbed and piled up debt once again that I have to get out of again.

But this time, to the rescue came an increasing RESPECT LEVEL for myself and others and a determination to break the bonds of such low thinking. One important tool aiding the mindset change is the wealth of knowledge Suze Orman provides in her 2010 book, The Money Class.

Near the end of her book, Suze’s comment that reading her book may have felt like an intense university course was right on the mark. Her book, The Money Class, is a valuable resource and guide that I studied by writing copious notes because I remember the most effectively and efficiently when I write things out. To my studies, I brought a very open and eager mind desiring to learn how to be different when it comes to my relationship with money, a willingness to acknowledge I did not know everything about money management, and in fact, the admission there was a lot I did not know, from teaching children how to manage money, to funding their college funds, when to start saving for retirement and how, plus what kind of insurance to buy for one’s lifetime.

Suze is a kind, compassionate, yet a firm teacher as her core philosophy shows: People first, money second, things third.

For years, because of my low RESPECT LEVEL, like many other people I put people first, usually ahead of myself, things second and money last but as I am building the highest RESPECT LEVEL I have ever had, my core belief about money is shifting to Suze’s philosophy on money in our lives … and one day, the financial wealth I always dreamed of but did not believe was possible will be mine, especially now that God is in the mix too. As I am discovering, The Bible has lots of financial guidance too and stories of unparalleled success when one lines up with His advice on money matters.

After my studies and transformed thoughts about money and its effective management, I firmly believe Suze’s book, The Money Class, broken down in sections, should be part of the education system from middle school to high school and onward into colleges and universities … that is, if we want a more responsible and viable economic community built on the strengths of solid financial knowledge and a high enough RESPECT LEVEL to make debt, particularly the debilitating kind, a thing of the past … I know I am and even just the idea of that freedom fills me with such peace and amazement … I so look forward to that day, yet I am also enjoying the journey of becoming debt free by starting with the changing of my mindset.

These two things alone will radically change our world for the better. I hope it does yours, for the ones you love and even for those you just respect … value … because they are people just trying to do the best they can too.

April 16, 2014

Kaitlin A. Trepanier
http://www.kaitlinatrepanier.com

All Rights Reserved by DARK HORSES PRODUCTIONS/KAITLIN A. TREPANIER … Advocate, Creative Writer and The RESPECT SPECIALIST responsible for the creation of the global initiative Connecting the Dots … with The RESPECT PRINCIPLE … because every child … every person … should know, by their own experience, they are valued … RESPECTED.

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