Saturday, September 18, 2021


Success! He finally climbed that last step on the ladder. No matter the endless repetition seeking recognition from those whose disposition mattered. He reached the top.

However, his happiness is camouflage, a proper costume for the part of triumphant man. His flair hides despair. The cigar is prop for smoke to screen his tears.

Process like progress requires choice. He chose to neglect her. She chose to leave him.

Submitted to The Sunday Muse.  

We are asked to write a poem or vignette about a selected photo.

Sunday, September 12, 2021



Have you learned?

Can you teach me now

How to live as an elder?

Or is living always the same -

Interlaced strands of  joy, sadness, monotony 

With an occasional accent the color of hope

And the occasional mess the color of tragedy

Is living about learning through repetition?

Is living about loving?

If so, 

May we all learn to live deeply.

It’s been a very long time since I’ve written on my blog. Life has been giving me lessons. Most of my family had COVID, my husband and I moved cross country, we are adjusting to living near daughter, son in law and a very different climate. All is well - my life is being braided by time.

Glad to be back.

Submitted to The Sunday Muse. 

Tuesday, March 2, 2021

Brendan at Earthweal challenges us to write about the  unsayable nature of the pandemic. 

In my county, levels of Covid 19 are still high. We remain in the "red" zone - a designation of danger.

Recently, I informed someone that the parents of a friend had died of Covid. After a brief silence, she commented: "Well, they were old weren't they?"

 I think grief for ourselves and others has been silent as this world continues to battle the effects of this pandemic.  Perhaps confronting it, speaking of it, is too painful.


Resentment grows silently

Like the weeds in my yard

That sprout unwanted green

Which I cut down repeatedly

Though its roots remain strong


There’s so much green I do want 

The kind that soothes or excites

Merely by uniquely growing

Responding to my nurture 

To my perception of beauty


Each shade of green grows now

Within me, without my tending

As I obediently cower in a shell

Untouchable, hiding under cover

Surviving while dying



"Green is the prime color of the world, and that from which its loveliness arises."

Pedro Calderon de la Barca

Sunday, February 21, 2021


Pensive, pondering
He wonders
In wordless thoughts:
Serenity, happiness, fulfillment,
(all their antonyms too).
In the vacuum of his mind
Nebulous questions also lurk:
I think... I am?
I am... I think?

A psuedo-philosophic entry for Poets and Storytellers United.

Monday, January 4, 2021



 I wouldn't say too much
It's too hard to phrase apologies
About all they've undergone.
Words of my love for them
May sound like an empty gong.
We have abused them for so long.
Instead, I choose to listen to their songs
Of protest, sadness, gladness
About being on this earth
Where we all belong.

This week Sherri at Earthweel challenges us to "speak for animals" as we consider their gifts to us, as well as the challenges they face, too often due to our disregard and disrespect for them.  

I love animals and wish I could do more to preserve them and save them from abuses. In the hope that somehow my intentions matter, that what I do symbolically translates through the ethers into tangible help for them, I write little poems to them as I attempt to capture their images through my sketches and photos

These are some samples of my entries:

Sunday, November 22, 2020




Most evenings as the sun descends

The sky becomes a flame

As if trying to wave goodbye to the day

I always feel a tinge of sadness

As I witness the passing of time

When night gradually suffuses the light –

A tiny death preparing me for inevitable endings


Most evenings before the sun descends

I watch a parade of noisy quail march behind my house

Their pretty colors barely visible in greyness of earth

They seek their simple goal of slumber in safe shelter

Unaware of their beauty, or the gift they bestow

On the watcher who forgets about death or sorrow

Or the greyness that envelopes earth

Time becomes that moment when the quail seek to sleep

While the watcher awakens


Monday, October 26, 2020



Her nightmare was surreal
As most nightmares are
A message from a dimmed reality
Intensified by terror

"You want it darker?"
Something asked 
As she saw forests devoured
By hellish flames
The spirits of animals, trees,
Homes (yes they have souls), humans
Evaporate into darkness

"You want it darker?"
Charcoal painted fields
Covered the dead earth
As the fumes of putrid scum
Rose from oceans
Fusing with thick grey air
Beneath a blackening sky

"You want it darker?
She witnessed monstrous hate
By humans inhumanely killing
Irrationally rationalizing wealth
As natural evidence for 
The "fittest" of the species' survival

"You want it darker?
"NOOOO!!!" she screamed awake
Fearing the truth of dreams
She realized
Darkness can engulf darkness
It  CAN get darker

("You Want It Darker" respectfully borrowed from the title of a song by Leonard Cohen.)

Wtitten for Earthwheel where Brendan provides many writing challenges revolving around Halloween and All Souls Day.