Monday, September 7, 2015


    Image by Tess Kincaid
While the adage is true,
good fences make good neighbors
don't forget the gate.

For Magpie Tales, carried across the Atlantic.

*The adage is, of course, from Robert Frost's poem Mending Wall.

Sunday, September 6, 2015

Tracking Time

this day
It is your starting block
to hurtle into tomorrow and tomorrow
and ten thousand tomorrows.
More if
you’re lucky

Minutes, hours may drag
but the years screech past
relentless as a train

Meanwhile, you have these
empty days
to fill with
colors, bright or muted
white noise or a
frantic cacophony.
You choose

Thursday, September 3, 2015

Night Tones

    Nocturne in Grey and Silver by Jame McNeill Whistler

Dark walls of water
and sea-foam lace
reach up for a moon
pinned impossibly high,
while the woods settle in
to the bed of the earth
with a shrug and a yawn and a sigh.
Then you lean into me
as I reach out for you
and we bid all the specters good bye,
 at the edge of a world
where the nightmares are curled
and the stars fall away from the sky.

Over in the Imaginary Garden Hedgewitch asked us to write a piece in keeping with the Tonalist painting movement, "with 'no under drawing,' by tkaing an idea, a place, a persn, an event or a mood and quickly fleshing out a portrait of it in a blur of words.  Use language to mass light and dark verbal'tones' and build up our poem in dashes of description and image. The end result should be something immediate but 'misty.'  Or we could use a painting from this school to inspire our writing.  I'm not sure I achieved that first bit, so the painting is one from the Tonalist School. 

Sunday, August 30, 2015

Fine Art

   Artist in His Studio by Remberant

Don’t you see
it’s the art that matters -
that’s what matters
they say,
not the artist
not the life
not the love
not the heartbreak
not the scars
not the anger
not the joy
not the long hours of boredom
not the sinking nights
not the coffee-infused mornings
not the growing pains
of body, or soul, or life, or death
that generated them
but the mill, the night watch, the philosopher in meditation
or the sunflowers, the irises, the olive trees
or guernica or three musicians or the kiss
so long as it matches the couch

Sometimes I wonder about how we judge the value of art, and in this picture, provided by Bjorn at The Imaginary Garden, the size of the canvas relative to the aritst is what prompted this particular little musing.

Sunday, August 23, 2015

Strung Along

Like a puppet
you have strings 
to another’s tune
until you are
tied down.

For Margaret's "Play it Again, Toads" at IGRT.  I went back to Mama Zen's Words Count.  She asked us to write about a power image (part art, part personal mythology, part creative shorthand part art, part personal mythology, and part creative shorthand...anything that a writer imbues with a greater meaning that it would ordinarily have and adopts it as a signature symbol) in 25 words or less.  I'm not sure this is really a "power image" by her definition, but it is a recurring thing in my writing.

Thursday, August 20, 2015

Making Tracks

    Photo by Douglas Sailsbiry

My mind, my heart, my thoughts are racing;
it’s time to leave this land of lacking,
cause now it's clear, what I am facing.
My mind, my heart, my thoughts are racing
all night, awake, I spend it pacing.
With morning light to finish packing
my mind, my heart, my thoughts are racing.
It’s time to leave this land of lacking.

Sunday, August 16, 2015

On Time

I have this skein of time
to knit into a 
life unraveling
faster and
faster each year
each season
each day
tangled at my feet

This if for Karin's challenge to write about some aspect of time, at the Imaginary Garden