Wednesday, April 15, 2020


We each have
a molecular
of order- 
electrons orbit nuclei 
at the most basic level
from the tick of time we measure
to swirls of the orbit of earth
around the sun in the galaxy.
So perfectly in tuned
that if it suddenly stopped
off we would fly into space
like helium filled balloons. 

over at d' we are pondering order in any of its permutations. 

Sunday, April 12, 2020

Dreams and Memories

 There is a secret path
to the place hidden well 
within my closed heart 
where dreams quietly dwell-
kept locked away 
nowhere else is safe,
where i can spin my webs
of memory as i please 
without winds of change
tearing them all asunder

  over at www.d', whimsygizmo has us doing quadrilles, which are poems consisting of 44 words to include the word closed.                                               

Wednesday, September 18, 2019


Delicious anticipation
dread and trepidation.
Spun out-between
belief and doubt
Wondering excitedly
with expectation
or maybe

at             We are waiting.  That is the topic of the day.  Aka, anticipation. I personally always feel like I am waiting. So this was perfect.

Thursday, August 22, 2019

the adversary

with yellow hide
and yellow-eyed
hiding in plain sight
panting with hot breath
silently measuring
expected reactions
with deadly planning.
The distance to pounce
when the prey falters.

Amaya is bartending tonight for and is exploring Smoke and Mirrors that surround us and try to and often succeed in confusing people into doing things they wouldn't usually do. She say, " Have you ever felt that the longer you live in this surreptitious world of smoke and mirrors, the less you can attest to knowing? Personally I find myself baffled every day by a global society that gives heed to the politicians voice over the poets". And I might add to the common sense and right versus wrong. Nothing makes sense anymore. Dark forces are afoot.

Wednesday, August 14, 2019

Halibun for fun- On communication

Acorn, bluebell, bramble, dandelion, fern, goldfinch, lark, heather, heron, otter, raven, starling, willow, wren

In a further attempt to sabotage the language, the Oxford children’s dictionary removed these words to make room for such words as broadband and cut and paste and pixilated.  As a point in case, I have been visiting with my preteen granddaughter this week and it has not been easy to communicate with her. I admit,  I have gotten older and I am no longer hip and my hearing isn’t perfect. It’s been about 6 months since I’ve seen her and her language has deteriorated, and I find myself staring at her for cues but to no avail. She twitches and flaps and her voice goes up and down in an attempt to mimic Korean speech. She has learned a few words of Korean, but the rest is a made up language that only she knows.   You see, she is a fan of what is called K-pop music, specifically a Korean band called BTS. Now, this is a stretch for me, a child of the 60s, 70s, and so on, to call this music. Yet I recall my mother saying the same thing to me about Alice Cooper and all of the players of my day, and I refuse to acknowledge that old monster.

So, as I age my mind frequently tries to turn away from this mechanized world and toward the beautiful words of nature. I can’t understand why acorn, heather, wren, heron and lark can’t dwell with broadband and cut and paste and pixilated. Nothing should be omitted, no matter how thick the dictionary becomes, all the words are necessary. It shows in pure physical form how large our world is and all the words are needed, every one of them.  This is alarming! Who gets to pick out the discarded words, where do they go and what if they get lost? The natural world is shrinking enough without removing the naming words, and it’s like those things never existed.

Personally, I am a big fan of words, a collector of sorts. I enjoy learning new words and adding them to my other lists of beautiful words. I never really knew who came up with what words for what things but that is a job I would love to have. Here is your job; you get to make up names for things. For there to be a department somewhere subtracting words to me is abhorrent and makes no sense at all. These days, many things do not make sense to me, I guess that’s how you can tell your time is short, the world no longer makes sense, the music is awful and you don’t understand what the young people are saying. 

Starlings flock as one

In synch they dive and climb

And turn together.

Tuesday, August 6, 2019

Halibun Monday-Hiroshima day.


Nuclear energy is a chain reaction caused by unstable atoms of fissile material. Really smart people with a lot of resources figured it all out. It is a scientist's dream and a nifty weapon in the war arsenal of the countries who have them. Now-a-days they call it a weapon of mass destruction and the superpowers sniff around small countries who are trying to build one of their own.
One only has to look at Hiroshima and Nagasaki, in the history of the world, to see the future. Humans will become extinct by their own hand, and the Earth, as she always does, will slowly come back and cover the evidence, and in a few million years nobody will know we were ever here.

mammal with large brain
invents the last war machine
Earth always comes back

Over at, Frank has us thinking about this day, 74 years ago when the United States dropped the first atomic bomb on a city in Japan named Hiroshima. Three days later a second  bomb was dropped by the United States upon Nagasaki, another town in Japan. An estimated 300,000 people, mostly civilians were killed in all.  For our writing prompt, we are to write a Hali bun and try to focus on renewal after something destructive of this magnitude. I suppose it is done one step at a time. One foot in front of the other. One dead body buried at a time, one pile of rubble cleared. I can't even wrap my head around it. But it is absurdly ironic that the country that dropped the bombs is the same one that crows about freedom and fairness and human rights, yet it is the only country in the world to use the atomic bomb. Not to mention that this same country currently has a madman as the president.

Sunday, August 4, 2019

summer days and nights of old (dizain)

Inside the old place the only breeze came
from fan blades stirring the hot August air.
Us kids were under the porch tired of games
sprawled in cool musty smelling dirt down there.
Spying on grownups and taking a dare
feeling well hidden and quite out of sight.
We stayed there 'till daylight turned into night
 the air cooled down and the music started.
Uncle earl found us with his old flashlight
and swatted our rears kind of half-hearted.

Over at we are doing Dizains again. I always feel unsure about these because of the ababbccdcd thing doesn't jive with  my inner rhythm. This is another one about growing up in the South and being kids outside in unairconditioned houses with no video games or TV.

Wednesday, July 31, 2019

Poetics- Temperature

Ten p.m. and its still 97
 but less than 100 at noon
The Real feel was 111
 and we can use the gills soon.

Down here in the bayou you see
we are born with ridges.
Right behind the ears they be
some folk thinks we are witches.

There is no oxygen in the thin air
No relief from the sticky heat
We are evolving gills under our hair
And often have 'gators to eat.

Sweltering sun beating down
 steamy misty clinging heat
sweat runs off drips with no sound
but it never misses a beat.

Over at we are having a little fun with the word Temperature, yet we don't actually have to use the word.  Grace is bartender in Poetics.  I felt a little Seussian tonight so made a silly poem based on the sweltering heat and humidity in the Deep South, especially Southern Louisiana, down where the alligators grow so mean. And they have Polk salat. But I digress. We have some serious heat in Memphis, but New Orleans and the vicinity it is possible they could be evolving gills.

Tuesday, July 30, 2019

Freckles- quadrille

Wild-eyed, apple-cheeked children squeal
running from the tide spray and foam;
Wet hair stiff with sand and salt
hanging like seaweed and tentacles
freckles slowly joining together
like stars flung from space onto their faces
and eyes blue like deep sea shining.

Over at, Mish is the bartender tonight and she has us pondering freckles. One of my favorite topics in quadrille form. A quadrille prompt is a poem containing 44 words, using a word or  phrase determined by the host.

Thursday, July 25, 2019

Dizain - Raven

Upon the old train bridge the raven caws
and watches me with his one eye peering,
as I stand beside the river and pause-
 my wet scarlet cheeks feel hot and searing
as though the world knows what I am fearing.
That what the others told to me is true;
and how could I so wrongly misconstrue!
How your sweet kind words masked pity instead
and yet in my heart I knew it was true-
now here I stand and imagine you dead.

Over at, Grace is the guest host in Poetry Forms and we are trying our hands at Dizain forms of poetry.

Saturday, July 20, 2019




Witch dolls by Karen Baker

A quadrille for dVerse –the word tonight is sun. a quadrille is a poem of 44 words

Tuesday, July 2, 2019

Human life cycle

into this world we come alone
screaming wretched cold
traveling into the great unknown
stumbling towards the end again.

screaming wretched cold
winding thru the labyrinths
stumbling towards the end again
learning as we go along

winding thru the labyrinths
steering ships north towards home
stumbling towards the end again
into this world we come alone.

its open link night or day at Here is a little shortie that i wrote a few weeks ago. enjoy!

Thursday, June 6, 2019

Disturbed "The Sound Of Silence" 03/28/16

This cover song done by David Draimen of the metal band Disturbed is very moving to me. It was originally done by Simon and Garfunkel in the 70's and it is as vital now as it was then, and It can mean many things to many people. But the blending of the words with his special baritone is stunning. He was trained as a young man as a cantor for his Synagogue but decided he wanted to be a singer in a metal band. His barely controlled growls and half scream just makes this more vivid to me. I chose the performance on Conan to show the whole band performance and his efforts to sing it perfectly. I hope ya'll enjoy it.

 Below is my little contribution, a reply, if you will.

Mother Darkness hovers near
listening for your words to hear
about the vision within your head
prophets wrote it down with dread
where you wandered alone
wet echoes, footsteps on stones
in half light shadows shone.
Hiveminds joined as one
with all eyes downcast upon
faces bottom lit from down below
receiving data, news, info
no voices-only words
no neon light, not tonight.
And the madness howled its rage
but no sound was ever made
afterflash of distant light
took away the monstrous sight
lost connections with the hive
the Wifi queen no longer is alive.

over at we are writing about songs that have brought us to tears. This is my offering. 

Tuesday, June 4, 2019

Mother Darkness hovers near
listening for your words to hear
about the vision within your head
prophets wrote it down with dread
where you wandered alone
wet echoes, footsteps on stones
in half light shadows shone.
Hiveminds joined as one
with all eyes downcast upon
faces bottom lit from down below
receiving data, news, info
no voices-only words
no neon light, not tonight.
And the madness howled its rage
but no sound was ever made
afterflash of distant light
took away the monstrous sight
lost connections with the hive
the Wifi queen no longer is alive.

Saturday, May 25, 2019


Humankind is out of time, on the brink of self inflicted hate. Kindness is love.
The ages old conflict of God and Oil both born in the middle east. Kindness is free.

The information age talks too fast and liars run the show; who knows what's true? Not me. Not you.
What's the use of having all of the money if you don't really need it? Kindness costs nothing. 

We see the darkness coming, like Langoliers, eating away the fabric of being human,
Human beings were conceived in goodness and light; now we fall to the darkness. Kindness is light.

Guided by compassion inspired by love, humans can give until there is no more to give 
If fueled by greed and envy, humans will take until there is no more to take. Kindness is generous. 

The fleeting sight of light, and love is under the feet of greed and hate, too late to turn it back.
The only answers lie in each of us, in what the heart says is true. Kindness is truth.

Over at dversepoets we are writing the ancient form of the Ghazal. It is a very specific type of poetic form with its refrains and couplets with internal rhythms. I tried my hand at it but I believe it is lacking in some of the rules.

Thursday, April 25, 2019

This poem I stumbled upon tonight at It is written by Ansel Elkins and it impacted me like a meteorite. I couldn't let it disappear into the depths of the internet, I had to find somewhere to put it.
So Im putting it here. But I didn't write it. I wish I had.

Autobiography of Eve

Wearing nothing but snakeskin
boots, I blazed a footpath, the first
radical road out of that old kingdom
toward a new unknown.
When I came to those great flaming gates
of burning gold,
I stood alone in terror at the threshold
between Paradise and Earth.
There I heard a mysterious echo:
my own voice
singing to me from across the forbidden
side. I shook awake—
at once alive in a blaze of green fire.
Let it be known: I did not fall from grace.
I leapt
to freedom.

Tuesday, March 19, 2019


The pantoum is a poetic form derived from the pantun, a Malay verse form: specifically from the pantun berkait, a series of interwoven quatrains and rhyming couplets.
At D'  Gina has us playing with the Pantoum, a very interesting form. I have been absent from writing for several weeks but glad to come back to this form. Weather in the south is very dramatic in the spring and it can get pretty scary. So here is my meager offering.

Respect the polygon I heard him say.
another long and sleepless night
the air outside looks greenish gray
in the rapidly declining light.

Another long and sleepless night
with the state of the atmosphere
in the rapidly declining light
you gather your family near.

With the state of the atmosphere
the droning sirens stir the fear
you gather your family near
listening for the all clear.

The droning sirens stir the fear
the air outside looks greenish gray
listening for the all clear
Respect the polygon I hear him say.

Thursday, January 24, 2019


Small eyes peer out from under thick glass
head thrown back and guffaws amass;
that infectious laugh bubbles up like champagne
his hands help tell his tale
as if he has practiced again and again

Always with a good story- a teller of tales;
Peppered with humor, after some ales.
Entertaining to put it mildly after a scotch neat or three
"Mom, he lives in a shed!" he said- describing a child
that visited him one day at his efficiency.

That sent him into a new spasm of mirth
is that funny? I wondered, for what it is worth
He often found humor in the strangest places.
 I know he liked to talk a lot
And watch everyone else's faces.

Monday, January 7, 2019

January Halibun

The sun has gone into hiding and sends the wind to blow the leaves off the trees. The people and animals are drowsy and the light fades too soon. There are those of us who suffer from seasonal affect disorder, the ones who love the sun and day light hours and during these dark months, require artificial sunlight and lemon spray to get through their days. Personally, I prefer the dark and cool of night as I don't enjoy the burning rays of old sol. Another year is on the horizon and I have to wonder, as I always do, is this my last one? My last Christmas? my last whatever? I think I have bought my last washer and dryer, and my last sofa. Morbid thoughts but its worth a ponder as my health has not been the best this past year. I admit before I would laugh it off, but not this year.

time keeps moving on
waiting for no one at all
this may be my last...

Here is another Halibun, but this time it is more in line with the theme of January. I somehow missed that before.
come join us at d'verse poets and see what the hubbub is all about.

Float fishing in Mountain View.

     As we ascended the winding road up and up, I could feel the anxiety fall off of my body shedding like a second skin. The air here was  thin and clean was easy to breathe, as we passed deep mountain hollers and steep peaks along the path to our destination. I found it easy to laugh and shake off the preceding months and days like it was all just a bad dream without end.
      And the next day, gliding downriver with the current and watching the lines bob,  waiting for that tug on the pole that meant a fish or a log or maybe even a rock. The gentle slosh on the side of the john boat synchronized with the motion was hypnotic, the sun on my face warm.
      Descending now back to the land of the living dead and dread creeps up from my belly and settles in my chest. I watch the river go about it's business and watch as reality speeds towards us in a collision course.

weekend getaway
never enough time for fun
we'll be home too soon

Today is Halibun Monday at  www.D'verse poetry bar. I am a sometimes poster there but there are many every day posters that are wonderful poets. I am trying to do better with da rules. Here is my attempt at linking.
come over and check it out.....