Skip to content

Danielle Wong Posts

Featured Post

Normal Is Not the Same for Everyone

The media keeps saying how trying these times are. It’s repeated on the radio, the TV, social media. I can only wonder if maybe, just maybe, it is just a matter of a larger section of society being forced to live the way a smaller section of society prefers.

Let’s say the larger section of society thrives on running around, making noise, being surrounded by as many people as possible.

Let’s also say the smaller section feels best taking it slower, enjoying what is around them, immersing themselves in calm and quiet, communicating with those they feel necessary, living more in solitude.

Usually, the smaller section has no choice but to integrate with the larger section.

Right now, the larger section has no choice but to integrate with the smaller section, to live like them.

If these are truly trying times, then imagine what it is like for those people who prefer living like this, quietly alone, year after year after year. Their lives must have been exhausting; only now can they breathe.

Not everyone follows the same path.

The Island Was a Rock

Purple water glints.  Plants grow 
in cracks on an ancient
rock that shrinks, crushed under
waves, and disappears from sight, or
on an ancient rock that builds
itself up, sun high above, to tower
over pebbles and sea life. The choice
to stay what it is or create
the island is unknown to us, but held
in conference
among plants, ancient rock, and purple

Adventures in Revival

Hidden in a home far from my own, a treasure lay buried, waiting to be uncovered, waiting to be rescued. The day it was discovered, the treasure pleaded not to be discarded.

My friend heard that plea and lifted the treasure in both arms. She knew how I had hid my own treasures, how I polished them in secret over the years. She had heard stories where I reminisced over lost treasures. In her heart, she sensed the treasure in her arms would fill the void of my lost treasures.

She loaded up the treasure and brought it to me, keeping it warm with an beautiful, old wool blanket.

The treasure lay on my desk, out of breath. It needed time to adjust to its new home.

One warm, sunny day, I took it outside for its first bath. Compressed air pushed cobwebs out. Tweezers pulled out twigs and craft supplies. I brought it back in just as raindrops started to fall and laid it down to rest on my desk. Time for it to rest up and catch its breath.

Book Signing at the First Annual Ottawa Book Expo

Last Sunday, I packed up some copies of Bubble Fusion, some bookmarks, snacks, and whole bunch of homemade mints. I got in the car with my oldest daughter and drove off to Ottawa in the darkness before the sun rose. OK. Let’s clarify that last part. Yes, it was dark when we left, but it’s always dark at 6:00 am in October around here.

Anyway, off we went with a GPS that didn’t know how to find Lansdowne Park in Ottawa. We had to enter an address that was further up the street on Queen Elizabeth Driveway. I worried that relying on an ancient GPS that gets lost just going to the Laurentians was not the best idea.

Thanks goodness we have something nowadays called Google Maps! I printed out those directions and brought them with us. Any discrepancies? Oh yeah. My daughter and I looked at each other and decided to listen to the print out. Excellent decision. With only one left-hand turn and two right-hand turns, we found Lansdowne Park.

I met many wonderful and interesting people! The organizers, the fellow authors at the different booths, and the people representing different companies were all so friendly.

As for the people who came to the Expo, well, they were incredible, too. Most were from the Ottawa area, I’m sure, but there were a few exceptions. There were people from as far away as Holland who showed up! Yes! Holland! People from Montreal also drove down to Ottawa for the event!

I would love to thank all the people who stopped by my table, shared their stories with me, and enjoyed my daughter’s homemade mints. I enjoyed every single last story you shared with me.

Book Signing

October. Sweet, blistering, cold, scary October.
Where does that bring me?


I will be at the Ottawa Book Expo!

Time: 10:00 am – 5:00 pm
Date: October 20, 2019
Address: Horticulture Building in Lansdowne Park

Bubble Fusion book. White bubble letters on gray background, and blue, red, and yellow bubbles.

Copies of Bubble Fusion, along with a few bookmarks, will be there.

Poetry Marathon

Last weekend, I participated in a poetry marathon. It was the first time in two years.

In a movie marathon, people watch a series of movies, like Start Wars, all in one sitting. It is a relaxing way to become exhausted.

In a running marathon, people run long distances as fast as they can. It is an exhilarating way to become exhausted with a sense of accomplishment.

So what exactly is a poetry marathon? Do you read poetry? Yes, a bit. Do you discuss poetry? Yes, a bit. Do you talk with other poets? Yes, a bit.

Most of the time, though, is spent thinking, reacting, writing, researching, erasing, rewriting. There is at least one prompt that goes out at the start of each hour and the participant has to write something by the end of the hour. A sense of urgency is felt in some hours, especially when sleepiness takes over in the middle of a poem.

It is a mind boggling, emotional journey, that leaves the participant exhausted with a huge sense of accomplishment. After all, poetry is not easy to write and to write a minimum of 24 within 24 hours is nothing short of phenomenal.

Another aspect that makes this poetry marathon incredible is that it is open to anybody, anywhere, as long as they have Internet. It is a marathon of writers from all around the world. The opportunity to encounter new points of view, to make friends, to join new groups of like-minded people is literally right at your fingertips.

It has taken me almost a full week to recover, probably because of the lack of coffee and snacks I took in during the event this year. My slower recovery might also be because I am older than I was last time.

Was it worth it? Yes, it was definitely worth it. I managed to write thirty-eight poems. Not all of them are any good, but thirty-eight poems written over a course of two months might not produce better results. They all need editing. The ones that are beyond editing to help them along might be useful as jumping points for something more meaningful.

Would I do this kind of marathon again? Well, considering that I have participated in a half marathon and this year was my second full poetry marathon, I think the answer is simple: of course!

Why Bumblebees Weigh on My Mind

I stood at the 39 km mark and cheered on the runners who had lots of strength left in them and seemed to skip by, runners who looked determined every time a foot touched the ground, runners who struggled to take their next step, runners who could barely breathe, and runners who mustered up just enough strength to walk.

It was on this 39 km mark that I noticed a few characters running in the opposite direction of the runners. Each character wore a smile. Each character moved lightly and looked like they were floating past.

Who caught my attention? Superman, Batman, and bumblebees in bright yellow tutus. The bumblebees held my attention the most. It might have been because they were bumblebees. It might have been their tutus. It might have been the joy they exuded; they did exude more than the superheroes.

These ballerina bumblebees hunted the downtrodden runners, sat with them, cheered them up, cheered them on, lifted their spirits, and got them to stand straight and head down the road to finish the race. They did this not for themselves, but for the runners and for the spirit of the marathon.

Real bumblebees do the same. They hunt the lonely flowers, land on them, spend time with them, gather pollen, and visit the next one. Yes, they do this to gather food for their hive, but, on a larger scale, they are doing this so that more plants grow, which means all animals, all people, have food to live.

Let’s never forget the black and yellow bumblebee. Cheer on those flying bumblebees any way we can when we see them and when we don’t. Let’s become ballerina bumblebees and cheer each other on. After all, we are all running a series of small races in this marathon called Life.

Thinking of Fear

I have been thinking about what scares us lately. How does it feel? What makes us scared?

As a mom, there are a million fears all related to children and their future.

There’s also fears that are coupled with anxiety. Will the catwalk give way and send me plummeting to the cement floor below? Will I fall out the window when I clean out the sill from the inside?

To shirk ominous clouds off me, I remind myself: I am afraid of flying, yet I took the plane; I am afraid of new places, yet I went to a place I had never seen before. Because of this, I saw things I never would have seen. Like the gnarly old tree with the bush growing on it, the faces I see in the branches both dead and alive.

Fear. Something to think about. Something to overcome.

Logic Lane

Look in the mirror:
a lifetime
spent walking down paths

It’s getting clearer:
this lifetime
and its aftermaths

It flashes quicker:
a lifetime
holding thoughts like drafts

It is a glimmer:
a lifetime
hanging tight to masts

It holds me in terror:
a lifetime
running from their chants

Look in the mirror:
this lifetime
restarts down this path

Why I Write

 unsure of the world
unsure of what to say
unsure of what to do
I stayed my tongue 
tied with observation
thoughts built up ideas
thoughts raced furious
thoughts dared spill over
I stayed my mind
eyes of observation
sure of my thoughts in air
sure of my thoughts in words
sure of my thoughts in ink
I freed emotions
I freed all the chains
held joy I could not find
in misfit worlds
in misfit schools
in misfit jobs
I spilled ink on paper
I found here I lived best
I gained serenity rules 
sure of what to do
sure of what to say
sure in my world