A couple reviews are in for my 1st book ‘The Scars We Don’t See”.
Please check out my Author Page: Cassa Bassa on Amazon


A couple reviews are in for my 1st book ‘The Scars We Don’t See”.
Please check out my Author Page: Cassa Bassa on Amazon
My collection of micro fiction The Scars We Don’t See is out.
Paperback:
Amazon UK
Amazon Australia
Amazon US
Barnes and Noble
Lulu
eBook:
Lulu
It started as an intention to leave something for my son to keep when I am gone (a bit morbid, I know). Then through the process of being guided by my publisher Tara and my editor Candice, to put this book together, I felt inspired by the joy a completed book brought to all parties involved. I am eternally grateful for Tara and Candice, deeply encouraged by Benjamin , without them, this book would not become a reality.
I will be posting in the next few days to share with you more about this book. I’d love you to make a purchase, read it and write a genuine review for me, which will help me grow as a writer (who just enjoys writing).
With love and respect, Cassa
I am honoured to be included in this volume. I love succinct language. Here, cheers to Susi and all the contributing writers. Available for purchase here.
I fought for you my little one
When you were too weak to defend yourself
Your future was more precious than my hardship
My love for you surpassed my fear for men
I fought for you my little one
When you looked up to me
I gathered courage to fight for injustice
I stood tall and strong with you behind me
I fought for you my little one
My beloved, when you grow up
You will not give way to fear or tyranny
You will be a man who is truly free
Writer’s notes: This poem is about the Australia State Governments pushed for mandating the experimental covid-19 vaccines in January 2022, and the everyday Australia people rose to fight for their freedom.
Masticadores India published my microstory ☺️
Here is the excerpt, please click on the link above to read the full story, and if you like what you read, remember to subscribe.
It’s my wife’s birthday party tonight. I took a day off to get ready, well, not me getting ready, it’s getting her and the party ready.
I dropped her off at the spa first thing in the morning, then went to pick up the party decorations, then went to the venue and set everything up. It took me four hours to get all that done. The timing was perfect though, just in time to pick her up from the spa. I told her that she looked a million dollars with a facial treatment, manicure and pedicure. Not that I could tell, but she told me enough that I learned to compliment her, one of the secrets of a happy marriage, I guess.
We were hungry so we decided to drive to the sailing club to have lunch since it’s a glorious day. I drove like a mad man in the traffic because there was no other way when you had a hangry wife in the passenger seat.
When we were about twenty metres to the T junction, I spotted a car moving out of the parking spot right in front of the club on the esplanade. I slammed on the accelerator and dashed to take the spot; I was so fixated on the parking spot, my safe driving sense became retarded.
Boom! I went through a red light…
Summer was sizzling like hot plates
We rolled in the watermelon field
clothes dirty
playing hide and seek
The cicadas sang deafening tunes
high up in the willow trees
like a nagging mother
adding to the exhausting red
we wore on our cheeks
Our burned skin
craved for cool relief
from the gathering clouds
The thunder rolled in
like a disciplinary father
a bit scary but necessary
When the storm broke loose
we went dead quiet
and lay still next to the ripened melons
soaking up the wonder of summer
We used to fold
yesterday’s news
into paper planes
and believed the past
would launch into new horizons
if we pressed all the lines
into perfection
All our hopes for tomorrow
would be our reality
until we realized after all
they were once
a vat of pulp
and when the rain came
those planes would wilt
into a mess
our laughter would soon
turn into sour tears
Maybe
that’s why
I didn’t want to
grow up
Preface of Hidden in Childhood
“If you open the pages of this poetry collection, you will be mesmerized by the talent of the contributors, and by the range of stylistic approaches they use to recreate the world of childhood. It must be said from the beginning that this is not a poetry collection for children. The pages you will read memorialize the beauty and magic of childhood – remembrance of love and fairytales – as well as its ugliness – abuses, poverty – that unfortunately still exist in our world. Some of the authors of the poems included in this anthology were brave enough to talk about the pain they endured in childhood. I salute all contributors: those who tell the world that childhood is love, and those who still bear the wounds of a difficult childhood…”