Wednesday, February 17, 2021

WEP - Your Kiss


Photo by Fabrizio Verrecchia on Unsplash

Your Kiss

A connection unbreakable

enveloped in desire


lips meet

complete surrender

home finally, home


Oh, that kiss

And everyone after

words can never describe

memories will never subside

a want seeking fulfillment

a place only lovers know


That kiss

stole my soul

imprisoned my heart

fulfilled every fantasy


please, more


That kiss

surpassed all dreams

nourished every wish

but time plays a cruel game

distance more harsh

still memories recall


That kiss

even today, years beyond


that kiss

that I desire

and my heart requires.

Copyright 2021 Yolanda Renée


Monday, February 1, 2021

A Garden For All

Photo by K. Mitch Hodge on Unsplash

A Garden for All

 I plant hundreds of bulbs in the fall

anticipating colorful blooms next spring,

such a delight.

But under my nose in the dark of night

pesky squirrels dig and dig until they have taken them all.


I wait with anticipation but to my horror

in early April, then May, no blooms appear.

This mystery has to wait

for it's a garden, I must create.


I buy half-grown bushes, with flowers already popping.

This time I watch, as the deer, rabbit, groundhog,

and squirrels continue their robbing.

My garden is once again, bloomless.

As the mystery's answers unashamedly appear.


I curse those pesky invaders as I watch them cavort.

They play, and they hop, but their murdering essence I must stop.

After hours of research, new plants are bought.

A new garden planted

All in an effort to stop the evil wrought.


My garden is lovely

with flowers and shrubbery

in all their beautiful glory

a fitting end for this sordid tale

of creatures who love to forage.

Copyright 2020 Yolanda Renée

Wednesday, December 30, 2020

Good Riddance 2020


Photo by Jude Beck on Unsplash

What is there to say but good riddance 2020

Living through these last 12 months and for many, the previous 4 years, was a never-ending horror show

But things are changing not just the year but the evil that haunted it

A man with unlimited power and a virus with an unmasked goal

Prayers seemed to have gone unanswered

But the truth be known, we brought this on ourselves

There is no one else to blame

May we truly take stock and change our ways

For ignorance, selfishness, and hubris are sins, not values, for which we must all pay.

Happy New Year


Tuesday, December 15, 2020

December's Hope

Wishing you a Happy, 
Joyful Holiday Season!

A Christmas candle is a lovely thing;
It makes no noise at all,
But softly gives itself away.
~Eva Logue

Christmas which is hope;
The spirit of Christmas which is peace;
The heart of Christmas which is love.
~Ada V. Hendricks

Please stay safe and well

Tuesday, December 1, 2020

WEP -UnMasked on New Year's Eve


Photo by Rodrigo Rodriguez on Unsplash


It’s Masquerade

Time to find your disguise

a costume and mask

for we’re all on parade

 better be wise.

 Make your decision judiciously

or your deepest secret will show through.

 On New Year's Eve

the truth is visible

and oh, so clear.

 If it’s deviousness

horror or evil you profess

it’ll be obvious

to those dead and most dear.

 So cover yourself strategically

or give yourself away.

 Just remember that ghosts of the murdered departed

are also looking

to make their creators


Photo by DANNY G on Unsplash

Entertainment Tonight covered the entire story. From the day they met to the day she was reported missing. Her grieving husband, an up and coming movie producer, shed tears for the camera. The search for the young actress he’d taken for a wife went on for weeks, months, and years, but no clue, no corpse, no answer.

Ten years later, during the Emmy ceremony, Donavon Fagen, movie producer, celebrated with close friends, and for a moment, he thought he caught a glimpse of her. Yet, he knew better. She was dead. Fagen pushed his thoughts of her aside and ordered another drink.

Alone at night, her whispers woke him.

“I’ve searched and searched the Earth for you. You, who took my soul for your own. You, the demon who stole my innocence and brutally took my life. You left me in the desert with all the others.”

Donavon switched on the light, walked to his patio door, and stared out over the desert. Why was she haunting him now?

The next morning, he saw her reflection in his bathroom mirror. On the movie set, he spotted her in the crowd of extras. He began to drink earlier and earlier every day.

Her whispers became more graphic.

“Their skin shrivels in the scorching sun. Yet mine is still soft and supple. Their eyes were plucked out by the buzzards, and their innards were devoured by numerous beasts, but I am whole. Perfect in my grave of graves. Their bones were bleached, scattered, and sandblasted, but the evidence of your wrath remains. Spirits all, and how they hate you, my love.”

Donavon began to sleep with the lights on, but the daily visions occurred, as did the nightmares.

The night of the Hollywood Masquerade he wore the costume of the Marquis de Sade during a dance with a beautifully dressed La Senorita Spanish Flamenco Dancer. While dancing a slow dance she pulled him close and whispered in his ear, “Giving me repose in my own special grave does not lessen my heart’s desire. Revenge is my guaranteed destiny. I’ve wandered for years in search of you, my creator. Your evil is written on my bones. I’ll never forget your true essence. Those dark eyes, an abyss. Black holes with no light or reflection. Those sharp, pearl white teeth dripping blood after each searing kiss. I remember how your flesh showed years of decay, and how your claw-like hands burned my skin as you stole the last breath in my lungs. You’ve covered your evil well, but now I’ve found you, marked you. Unmasked on the night of a Masquerade, I alone see true.”

He tried to pull away, but she held him tight, and then suddenly, she was gone like a wisp of smoke. Several glasses of whisky couldn’t stop the tremors as he searched the room, but she was nowhere in sight. He sighed in relief.

A friend drove him home and finally with more whisky and a sleeping pill, he wiped away all the ghosts, but even unconsciousness couldn’t stop the whispers.

“I alone know your darkest secret. Killing the virtuous allows your survival on the Earthly plane. Stealing my love guaranteed your existence. And I, a naive bride, was blinded by what I thought was love and devotion. But my dear, soon the world will know the truth.”

Donavon, wide awake now, got out of his bed and opened the patio doors, but it wasn’t a cool breeze that greeted him. She stood before him, just as he’d last seen her.

“Join us, dear husband. We’ve come to claim our right.”

He screamed.

Then screamed some more,

but to no avail

as each of his victims

took back what he stole

until finally, she kissed him

and took his all.


January 2nd

Detective Grant arrived on the scene shortly after the discovery. “What do you have, Officer?”

“Donovan Fagen, movie producer. The coroner says heart attack, but if you ask me, that expression on his face says the man died from pure terror.”


“My guess, all his victims. Look around, the place is a bone field.”

“And the girl, who is she?”

“His former wife. The young actress that disappeared ten years ago. Why he chose to uncover her grave, we’ll never know. But she’s well preserved.”

“Lots of killers enjoy visiting the graves of their victims,” Detective Grant said.

“His undoing this time. His other victims are scattered. It’ll take a while to figure out how many, but he’s been killing for a very, very long time.”

“Fools, so many fools,” a young girl spoke, but none stood in attendance.

They all heard the voice, then the sound of a young woman’s giggle, but the only people on-site were the officers removing the bodies.

A whoosh and the hot, desert breeze lifted the sand and swirled it in dust devil form that danced across the desert before all grew quiet again.

The Detective felt the hair on his body stand on end. “Maybe you’re right this time, Sergeant. Maybe this serial killer found that the spirits of the dead don’t lie quietly on New Year's Eve. I’d say justice has been done.”

960 Words

Yolanda Renée © 2020

Happy New Year!


Monday, November 23, 2020

I Did it!


This year I had two projects to complete.

A Passion for Murder had approximately 20,000 words already completed. And a newer project, a suspenseful romance set in Myrtle Beach, I had about the same,
 just under 20,000 words.
Neither was close to being done. 
For some reason, this year,
I struggled to accomplish all I set out to do.
But with NANO, I had one final chance.
I finished the first draft of 
both stories during this challenge. 
Adding about 30,000 words to each.
The only way to do it was to just hunker down and commit to the writing. 
I ignored all else. 
But with the support of hubby
who did most of the cooking, it worked!
 I was determined to write daily. 
And I did.
I'm thrilled with the results.
Yay me! :) 

How about you, 
did you get there too?


Monday, November 2, 2020

For Opal: My Book of Poetry

Now Available the Kindle!

When I was seven

I found heaven

my grandmother's house

I was the city mouse.

With a large bed just for me

not one bed, shared by three

awake each morning

to a bird song melody.

Peace and quiet

and a pancake diet

amid the flowers and the trees

I explored every nook and cranny.

A crowing rooster, cows, and chickens

I helped out in the barn and the kitchen

a sewing lesson with needle and thread

soon exhausted, I curled up in my large bed.

Snakes and storms, roses and thorns

homemade ice cream and fresh corn

my escape from a family of seven

Grandma's Earthly home was heaven.

  Yolanda Renée (C) 2020


Coming Soon!

In paperback

For Opal is a collection of poems written in memory of Lilly Opal Stansberry, my grandmother, and the inspiration for my writing. These poems portray a moment in time. Highlighting love, loss, tragedy, and survival. A few done just for fun and several that have a murderous slant. But they are all a small picture of life. Some are real and others pure fiction.

Before she passed, I promised her I would publish a book of poetry. This is that promise kept. Publication date November 2nd - would have been her 108th birthday.

I'm under no illusion, a poet I am not, but each verse has meaning for me.

Maybe it will strike a chord for you too!


Anyone willing to do a blog post for my poetry book. Let me know. I'll send you a copy and we can discuss the subject. 

Or a simple shout out would be most appreciated.