Wednesday, January 16, 2019


Sometimes when I dream
I diffuse like wind
Boldly I shake the branches of trees
Testing the strength of leaves
Hanging on for life 
Or I flow like a gentle breeze
As leaves passively fall
swaying in dance
To my hypnotic lulling lullaby
When I wake I'm neither 
wind nor tree
nor leaves nor breeze
Nor dance or lullaby
I'm all and none
As life hangs on to me
Always clashing

(Sumana at Poets United asks us to write about Life - paradox or balance.)

Sunday, January 6, 2019

Hope everyone enjoyed the holidays.  
For me, this year began with a new member, Lula, who had been at the animal shelter for about 7 months.  The attendant there assured us no one would adopt Lula because she was less than appealing. 
I have no doubt Lula would not have survived without medical attention.  The shelter does basic evaluations, but Lula was quite sick.  She has thrived after receiving treatment and living with us. She gets along wonderfully with our other dog, Leroy, and she's adjusted well to the family's pace, especially the routine  for dispensing treats.  Though my husband and I received many gifts this season, the gift Lula has bestowed is the one we appreciate the most.    


Was it my imagination or did our eyes lock
The moment I came through the shelter's door
Did you telepathically plead
"Please, pick me"
The others jumped, barked
They didn't care or stare
The way you did so pathetically
Laying there motionless
Like death's shadow
Accustomed to rejection
You watched as I moved on
To "wisely" pick
One prettier, healthier, spunkier 
But I returned to select you

I'm not a believer in veiled delusions
Of love at first sight
Yet instantly 
Our love was fused 
By an invisible magnet
Of gravity between two hearts
Proving the inexplicable exists
Guiding me to you
Sick, emaciated, listless dog
Our bond is not evidence
That love is blind
But that true love is a mystery 
That sees what's real

(For Poets United.)

Wednesday, November 28, 2018


"Get up!" I tell the morning.
"Take the covers off the sun!"
Then as if my dogs hear my thoughts
They rise to noisily tap dance their paws 
On my wooden floors
Because they know how to celebrate the morn.
I yawn, shake away the dew from my brain
Though a fog still remains.
Until at last, I awaken into my living slumber
Where instead of going outside to wish 
My mountains, the birds and the rabbits well,
Or wave to neighbors as their life draws on,
Or breathe as if I knew the mystic's way,
Then write a poem to the dawn
About the splendid beauty in you, me, the world -
Like a recurring dream, 
I drink my coffee, feed the dogs,
Then proceed
To perform the dictates of my ways,
Assuming that tomorrow
will be another day.

Sunday, November 25, 2018


(My mind has been rather blank lately.  Haven't been able to squeeze a poem from it's cloudy recesses.  I extracted these lines from some longer entries in my journal.)    

Memories fade the way sunlight becomes shadow at dusk.
How else to keep track of moments that slide
From nowhere to nowhere
Into the vastness called time.


Life goes on.
Or is it death that grows into itself?
As it drags us through
All the big and little crevices of reality
To surprise us.


Do we choose to live fully
Or live like death asleep
Or bounce between life and death
Like a ball thrown
Between space and gravity.


We're all a little like dice.
We can't call our number
Till life stops rolling.



My silent prayer is pregnant 
With wishes wanting to be born,
Manifested in love and joy.
Can one prayer address all
Goodness I'd like to see in it?


I wish, I pray, I dream 
That my naïveté is not a waste,
That it balances with light
This perverse darkness.


Insanity is a big or tiny part of us all.

Sunday, November 11, 2018


I see glimpses of peaceful unity
In the generosity of a neighbor,
The kindness of a stranger,
The services provided by community.
But lately, too often, too quickly 
my visions of the beautiful become murky,
A dream I cannot remember.
I cannot breathe. I choke
On dark fumes.
My head, shoulders, eyelids droop from fear fatigue.
A malignant dread of doom
Infiltrates my cells,
Magnifies my worries, 
Kidnaps my serenity.
The ransom - in the hands of madmen.
It is then that I am grateful
For wise questions that expand possibilities:

 "What if this darkness isn't the darkness of the tomb
  But the darkness of the womb.
  What if America is not dead 
  But a country
  To be born." 
           Valerie Kaur


Sunday, October 28, 2018

That Moment


That moment will happen to us all
When the ghosts hover waiting
The way we anticipate a baby's birth
Then rejoice at its exposure to earth

Only ghosts know how to celebrate
Life's slide through that tunnel of pain
Releasing us to...the other side
Where sheets cover our souls then fly
Somewhere none could imagine

At that moment we'll know 
What only ghosts behold
About  our fear while here:

We're not really afraid
of ghosts
But of that moment 
When we become one 

Sunday, October 21, 2018

I've been away for some time.  My daughter has been very ill and I've been caring for her children and going through an awful time worrying if she would make it through.
Luckily she did and is now on her way to a good recovery after suffering from deadly infections and two surgeries.  She and the entire family has developed a deeper sense of gratitude.  I am also more conscious of what it must mean to lose a child.  My deepest condolences to any of you who have.  Blessings to you.

Following are my thoughts while driving home after visiting my daughter who remained motionless on a hospital bed... in pain, waiting for life or death.


I saw the moon beautifully rising
Changing from juicy orange 
To the brightness of a bride
Shinning in the joy of light
Within the void of space
The darkness of future time

The outline of its mouth
The lidless holes of its eyes
Smiled down at me
A helpless member of the suffering species
Tasting the vivid poison of life
And death
Forgetting blind hope for good tomorrows

I hated the moon for its complacent happiness
How dare it smile
While I could only cry
From horror of fear