The Quill of Samantha Grace Newcastle

roses

  • grandmother’s garden

    In the garden of my grandmother’s house, magnolias bloomed like whispers. their petals soft as secrets shared, fragrant memories drifting on warm breezes, shadows of afternoons spent in laughter.   Azaleas, bright as a child’s laughter, their bold hues painting the air, each blossom a promise of joy, cuttings planted with threads of love, each… Read more

  • Why, How, Who

    I was asked today how do I write, how long have I written, and why. It’s a gift, a blessing, a curse, a tool to look deep within and view the core. Hyper Empathy, affective empathy, discernment,etc, they each play a role. Writing isn’t just an act for me; it’s a release, a necessity. Every… Read more

  • Beauty and pain in religion

    Religion builds hedges adorned with beauty, ornate, ceremony and pride and its rules  whisper, do or die with millions of hearts  bound in fear and the majority are in the churchCaught in a paradox of belief and works, many are held down by the weight of pseudo salvation wrapped in chainsThen, just as with Dismas,… Read more