Monthly Archives: August 2012


remember December

when the colt runs
free through fields
of red clover

remember December

when the seaspirit
spreads irish moss
upon the shore

remember December

when sultry turns crisp
and rusts and yellows
play the foil to green

remember December

when the wind whipped your
hair and tears shattered against
the frozen shell of your heart.

Alone in the cold

Alone in the cold (Photo credit: Jenn Durfey)

Shawna snuck in some mid-week words,
this is for one of the lists.

Shared at IGWRT

and dVerse



Filed under Poetry, Poetry - Prompts

Wasting Time

in the end,
both only wished
to be done
with the

free of each
other, guilt
and mock

proving again,

low expectations
are easily

Stood still, walk away.

Stood still, walk away. (Photo credit:

for three word wednesday


Filed under Poetry, Poetry - Prompts


the young men laugh,
call him a dinosaur,
out of touch,
living in a different

he ignores them,
helps her with
her coat,
beams as she
takes his arm.

She admires the look
of his coat and tie,
and smiles a
‘thank you’
each time he
holds the door.








Written for Trifecta

photo credit: Ed Yourdon via photo pin cc


Filed under Poetry, Poetry - Prompts

Decayed Decadence

Shawna’s words refused to conform to my sense of literalism, so I let them roam.

beautiful decadence

beautiful decadence (Photo credit: rromer)

contentment pours
from the goblet

scorned sweetness
left to pool
in her

laden, the captive
climbs chrysolite
to escape
his freedom

escorts fan
her with sheaves
of wheat,
feed her clusters
of raisins,
anoint her waist
with dead lotus
flower oil

her lover
spreads his shekels,
lets his blood
and washes the
mandrake in


Filed under Poetry, Poetry - Prompts


embrace me
so that I
may find
in your

touch me
of times

hold me
banish my
of abuse









Rescue a pet.

Spay and neuter.

Written for Vice Versa at Poets United



Filed under Poetry, Poetry - Prompts

Moving Day

“Operator, well let’s forget about this call
There’s no one there I really wanted to talk to. “
Jim Croce

I watch dusk take over the yard,
shadows grow where once her
rose bush had consumed the fence,
intertwining with the chain.

Inside, memories collect like dust
in the empty rooms.

Colored pencils rest in a coffee can
next to the easel. I can still trace
the lines where we used
them on the wall. Admonished,
more for using the good pencils
than for the wall.

A hand written recipe book,
pantry essentials listed on
the back cover, each page
a link to a meal, a holiday,
a laugh.

There is an empty place
on the mantelpiece. We
were forgiven for breaking
her mother’s vase, but it
was never replaced.

Full dark envelops the house
as I leave, returning it to the
realm of its ghosts.

Written for the Sunday Whirl, and goes well with The Mag prompt as well.


Filed under Poetry

The Circus

dVerse brings us the artwork or Borg de Nobel as inspiration today. All of the ones offered were fantastic (I could be back with another), but this one stood out to me, combined with some info from her bio. Be sure to check out more of her work at

Two parts of the Road as a whole
by Borg de Nobel
Used with permission

I hear it! It’s finally here!
I have been waiting for weeks.
Do you hear it, Billy?
It’s the circus train.

Oh, the train? It is like a car,
only much bigger and taller,
like a house on wheels,
with a chimney even, blown’ smoke.

dance children, the circus is in town
lions, tigers and, of course, the clowns
sights for all to see, come on down

Please come with me Billy,
I so want to go,
I promise to hold your hand,
tell you about everything.
The tight rope walkers and trappese
and all the animals. The elephants
are my favorites.

Elephants? Hmm. They are amazing!
They have four legs like the dog,
but they are huge! almost bigger
than the train. Their legs are round
and straight, like the tree in the yard, with great
big flat, round ears and instead
a nose they have a trunk…no, not like that,
it looks like a long stocking.
They make music with it like a trumpet.

dance children, the circus is in town
lions, tigers and, of course, the clowns
sights for all to see, come on down

Please come with me Billy,
it is simply marvelous! There will
be music and clowns… Them? Well,
they are just silly and there is usually
a lot of them dressed up in funny wigs,
that’s fake hair, and clothes and they
paint their faces and make everyone laugh.

And the smells, Billy. You will really like that.
Cotton candy and popcorn and ice cream.
It is a lot like carnival except with shows
instead of rides. Won’t you please come?
Yes, I will hold your hand, I promise. Yes,
I will tell you more about the birds
while we walk, every one we hear.

dance children, the circus is in town
lions, tigers and, of course, the clowns
sights for all to see, come on down


Filed under Poetry