Tuesday, January 31, 2012


Exile works both ways;
do you ever miss my touch,
soft along your skin?

Image by experienceproject.com

Monday, January 30, 2012


Your move;
I wait  

You take your time to
take your turn.
I wait.

This is the game we play:
Your move,
while passive, patient,
plotting, planning,
in my head
I grow bitter
for this is the game we play.

You take your time to
take your turn
I wait.

Your move;
I wait.

Image from toptenz.net

Go to the dVerse pub for a belly full of amazing poetry from some very diverse poets!

Sunday, January 29, 2012

On Love and War

In spite of the
red flag
I give you my

in a bright storm of love

to push back
the edge of darkness,

Image Red Spot II by W. Kandinsky, 1921

This is provided by Tess Kincaid as a writing prompt for The Mag.  

Saturday, January 28, 2012

On Time and Space

A fixed point
cannot be altered,
but with a wrinkle
of fabric
parallel lines intersect
between you and me

Image by design-char.com

This is posted at dVerse Poets Poets for their writing prompt about undercurrents.

Lack of Time

Tic, tock, tic -
Hurry.  Stop.  Hurry.
of small clocks,
imposed patterns, divide us
keeping bliss on hold

Image by Daryl Edelstein

This poem is done in response to a wonderful photo by Daryl Edelstein.  This picture and others and the written responses they evoke can be found at IGRT (Imaginary Garden w/ Real Toads).  Also, the poetic form I used is a Shadorma, which consists of 6 lines with the following syllable count: 3/5/3/3/7/5 

Friday, January 27, 2012

Why Bread Triumphs Over Death

Whenever I bake bread
Grandma is here.
I knead dough on
the board in her kitchen,
scoop flour from her bin

She hovers, ibbur-like
as I settle the dough to rise
in her thick, ocher bowl

I slide glistening loaves
in the oven and wait
in her arms
breathing in the aroma
of warm bread

This is for G-man and his kick-ass FF55 where you can read lots of cool 55 word long bits and pieces.

Image: realbakingwithrose.com

Monday, January 23, 2012

The Other Side

with flat shadows and deep whispers,
tumble through the mirror
till finally
you reach
the end
then spin around
look at your reflection
scoop up fistfuls of dark fear and
let go

This form is called Mirror Cinquain, which is defined by the following syllable count per line: 
 2/4/6/8/2-2/8/6/4/2.  Please follow this link: Imaginary Garden with Real Toads to check out more poetry  for their Open Link Monday.  And submit on of your own if it strikes your fancy!

Image from iheartchaos.com

Sunday, January 22, 2012

Linear Thinking

In a world of black and white,
tied to a blanket of fear,
you are cushioned from direct contact

You must compartmentalize
each in its own separate bundle
to be categorized and filed away

minimized, stripped down to its essence
vacuum packed, freeze dried, neatly labeled.

With too many connections, one tug
of the string could pull everything down.
The center will not hold
and the first tear could create an ocean,
deep enough to drown in.

Do not dare to dream
or you may come undone.

This is written for the wonderful image provided by Tess Kincaid at The Mag and also posted at Poets United Poetry Pantry.

Riddle Me This

Riddle: What’s black and white and red all under?


This absolute groaner of a riddle is, in part, the fault of Tess Kincaid who provided this wonderful image (which deserves much better) at The Mag.  Go there to see some much more worthy responses :o)

Saturday, January 21, 2012

Secret Smile

Ohhhh Mona
you sweet, sweet thing;
who put that smile on your face?
Ermmm… right, that would be
He put the smile on your face
and the twinkle in your eye,
with a turn of his wrist
and the soft tickle of
his well-placed brush stroke.
He is truly an old master.

55 foolish words for G-Man and his collection of 55 word long gems over at Mr. Knowitall: Friday Flash 55. Click on the link to see 'em all in one swell foop!

Image from google 

Friday, January 20, 2012


Snuff the candle
watch the smoke rise, swirl, waver
and dissipate into nothing

Over at the pub those dVerse Poets are doin' shots of Imagism.  

Image from neatorama.com

Thursday, January 19, 2012

How I Became Invisible

At Donna’s house
she left the yellow living room
to make coffee;
the cloak of my husband shifted
and as the remaining men talked
I realized I had become

I tried to join the conversation,
they spoke of seemingly familiar topics:
houses, people, music but they
could not hear me-
could not see me-
I feared one of them would reach through me
while gesturing
or grabbing for the dish of nuts

In time they grew dim,
their voices tinny, far away.
By the time Donna came with coffee
they had disappeared entirely
and I was free
to move about the room
as I pleased

Image from sikhdharma.org

Wednesday, January 18, 2012


SOPA/PIPA Petition - click on the link to sign the petition against - Please!

Tuesday, January 17, 2012

Zen Cat

My cat sits
stout and Buddha-like,
He is one with the couch

Sunday, January 15, 2012

Siren Song

 Poets are not afraid to drown. -Janet Frame

All our gods have turned to stone.
We are edified, petrified
by the letters of a law
chiseled onto tablets,
absolute, unyielding
Thou shalt not…

speak deep
sing low

there is grace here

in my

Image by Jason deCaries Taylor

This was written for The Mag where Tess Kincaid provides a weekly visual writing prompt.  Congratulations to Tess on the 100th Magpie prompt!  Also submitted to Poets United Poetry Pantry

Beyond Fashionably Late

I do tend to be fashionably late, but I think this may be stretching the fabric of time-fashion, as this is written for the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads mini challenge for New Year's weekend.  Oh, here it is anyway.

Prime Poem:  In this poem all the form rules have to do with prime numbers.  There are 2 beats per foot, 5 feet per line (iambic pentameter), 7 lines and 3 rhymes, with the rhyme scheme as follows: a-b-a-c/c-a-b-a and the c/c indicates a rhyme within the line. 

Here is my example, which is inspired by the US presidential primaries, sort of.  And, I'll point out that my stress pattern in the final line is a bit wonky, but let's just pretend that's done on purpose for comic effect. 

The year: 2012, the dye is cast:
Election year insanity ensues.
Commercials come at us so hard and fast,
while candidates are slated for debate.
Their (lack of) reasoning leaves me aghast
Displayed attractively, but without clues
they make me think this year should be the last!

Image from Google images by zimbio.com

Saturday, January 14, 2012


Chillin’ with my peeps
January in Wisconsin
Cool man, really cool

*Photo by me

Tuesday, January 10, 2012

dVerse Poets

grey skies
threaten to fall
so heavy with regret,
dark clouds seeded with betrayal
rain stinging, bitterness
soaking through to
the bone

Image: flickr, unknown photographer


Today is dull grey, a day of unmaking –
unmade beds and unremembered dreams
unfinished poems, undelivered letters
untied knots and unraveled promises

The empty hours stretch before me
with so many words left unsaid,
so many acts of kindness left undone.
Today is dull grey, a day of unmaking

Image is from J-CIO on flickr

Friday, January 6, 2012


The hour chimes
the ball drops
and everything is new;
savage celebrating erupts.

But here
in the quiet, still center
a flame burns
blue-white and steady
in the palms of my cupped hands

illuminating a small circle
in the vast  night
where shadows shiver and multiply.

Chaos falls like snowflakes;
share my light.

This is written for Mr. Knowitall's Flash Friday 55.

*Image from internationalministries.org

Thursday, January 5, 2012


The gash you carelessly sliced 
lay open,
fresh and clean
glistening in the cold morning,
steam rising from my warm flesh.
Bright, viscous blood

No pain at first,
it was so sudden,
betrayal so sharp.
Later the ache started

Blood coagulated, dried
hard and thick over the wound
as it should.  But
you returned

You came again and again
and white ooze seeped out
as you kept at the flap
of skin
now hot, red 

Because you won’t leave,
my Promethean suffering goes on

(image by mohzart)

Wednesday, January 4, 2012

Gingrich in Song

Does anyone else notice that Gingrich and Grinch sound so very much alike?  Just for fun I made up something about Newt after his disappointment in the Iowa caucus to be sung to the tune of Mr. Grinch.  Remember, if JUST IN FUN!   (Image from Reason.com)

You're erratic, Newt Gingrich.
You’re up and then you’re down.
You're as constant as an elevator; 
Smile first and then frown, 
Newt Gingrich.
You frighten the party base like a weird, scary clown.

You're a loser, Newt Gingrich.
Your platform’s full of holes.

For another hundred votes.
I think you’d sell your families’ souls, Newt Gingrich.
I wouldn't vote for you with a 
Thirty-nine and a half point lead in the poles.

You're a moron, Newt. Gingrich.
Your brain is in a fog, 
You have all the smarts and logic of a Mad Alaskan dog, 
Newt Gingrich.
Given the choice between the two of you, 
I'd take the mad Alaskan dog.

You're incompetent, Newt Gingrich.
Your bills are full of gunk.
Your contract with America
Nearly got us sunk, 
Newt Gingrich.

The three words that best describe you, 
Are as follows, and I quote"

Tuesday, January 3, 2012

After the Storm

When the mud from the river-bottoms has settled
the hazy sky reflects on the surface
smooth and flat.

Mirrored sliver of sky and trees
so calm, no hint of  stormy skies
or rough waters that came before.

No hint of what’s beneath.

Picture: River by Marina Moevs

This was written for Magpie Tales and dVerse Poets Open Link Night.


This year I resolve
to write more, love more, give more
and sew seeds of peace

*image from google