Monthly Archives: April 2013


I witness pure, unadulterated
each time I throw the frisbee
for my dog,
a single minded focus
on continuing an activity
to the point
of exhaustion.
She has found what we all
search for;
a thing we can do until
we are too tired
to stand,
and still not want
to stop,
then be excited
to do it again
as soon as we catch
our breath.



Filed under Poetry


The party was most rudely crashed,
the cake and the room trashed,

candelabra overturned,
thankfully, no one burned,

dishes and glasses broken,
many curses uttered, oaths spoken.

There was one major failing
in the party crasher’s planning,

they never thought the princess dress
would conceal a raging lioness.



For The Mag image prompt
and just to prove not all is dark today.

helen ward


Filed under Poetry, Poetry - Prompts


Lying broken
in the clover

cast off

an empty shell
without meaning

or purpose

stripped of my core
my being

then tossed away



For the Poetic Bloomings Image Prompt
the image really helps to understand the poem

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry, Poetry - Prompts

Upturned Earth

We took an oath to never
borrow from tomorrow,
to search out harrowing experiences
and to suck the marrow from life.

Now, they seem hollow vows,
transparent illusions of youth,
aspirations worn thin
by the march of time.

Rare is the child who can guess
the realities of maturity, either
grand or humble. more rare still,
the adult who does not mourn

broken oaths and wasted days.
I saw the procession, a slow train
ending beside upturned earth,
finally accepting the one unfailing

promise. The grubs will always be fed.



Ah, rainy days and poetry,
always a cheerful combination.
For the Sunday Whirl.


Filed under Poetry, Poetry - Prompts

RIP George Jones

These days I barely get by,
seeing everywhere
a picture of me without you,
never again will I
kiss and angel good morning.

White lightening,
one drink, just one more, then another,
if drinkin’ don’t kill me, your memory will.

Maybe tomorrow,
they will place a wreath upon my door
and I will find
my Lilly of the Valley.

most lines taken from George Jones song lyrics. RIP


Filed under Poetry

The World Outside – a Sijo

Tonight over at dVerse Samuel asks for a sijo. The fact that he stressed the importance of ‘musical quality’ does not bode well for me. My work typically has a distinct lack of a focus on meter or the lyrical. But I do like many of the short asian forms (and, or course, I need a post for NaPoWriMo) so it is worth an attempt. I did go with six lines instead of the traditional three; long lines still bother me more often than not.


The World Outside

Plastic plants in the living room,
green vases with dried flowers,

we pretend nature is inside,
while beyond the window color lives.

Remember youthful days of play,
breathe deep of all nature offers.


Filed under Poetry, Poetry - Prompts

A Modest Socialite

She can handle
or the aftermath
of bad decisions,
any detour from the norm
is acceptable,
a shocked guest — or two —
at her parties is expected,
but to be considered boring…
sooner you will find her
cold on a slab,
knots and tangles
in her hair.


Yes, it is somewhat atrocious,
but it is posted before midnight
which means I am still only behind
one for NaPoWriMo.
Taken from Miz Q’s wordle words.


Filed under Poetry, Poetry - Prompts

Final Death of a Phoenix

It was not long
after she left
when I began
to lose faith
in spring.
Oh, the new blooms
still catch my eye,
and I welcome the
return of warmth,
but I have lost
my capacity for


Filed under Poetry

In Which Aging is Somewhat Frowned Upon

I remember being in my
grandmother’s garden —
Mississippi, mid-July– with
a knife and a salt shaker,
eating cucumbers off the vine.

She also had a fig tree
I would climb, competing
with the birds for the freshest
fruit, sweaty and sticky
before lunch.

Now, I wash my hands too often,
July heat is oppressive,
cucumbers make me burp
and the price of figs
just pisses me off.


Filed under Poetry


She enjoys cooking,
the feel of the ingredients
between her fingers,
the smell of memories
and the stories behind
the recipes.

She enjoys cooking.
She is happy when we eat.


Filed under Poetry