Sunday, November 19, 2017


A little bit of fiction and a whole
lot of truth in this poem.
Submitted to Poet Pantry #379
at Poets United
November 12, 2017

Take me back to my belonging place
Back to that simpler time
I’ve grown tired of the city
Its traffic gridlock and crime.
I sicken at the words “mass shooting”
And the senseless loss of life
It seems whichever way I turn
There are tales of anger and strife.
I don’t even know my neighbor
I doubt he knows my name
I’m tired of paying this mortgage
All the houses look the same
The pastor seems to preach money
And the church’s financial load
I long to be sitting in a simple pew
In the chapel beside the road
Let me walk barefoot in clover
And smell the fresh, sweet air
Drink clear, cold water from the well
No hint of chlorine there
Let me have the innocent faith of childhood
And belief in all things good
Trusting each person I meet
Will treat me as they should
Let me hear the rumble of Daddy’s voice
As he comes in from chores at night
Feel again the warm hugs he gave me
That kept my world safe and bright
Let me see Mother again in her garden
In the place that she loved best
Holding her gathered bounty
Against her aproned breast
Let me smell the perking coffee
And hear the rooster’s morning crow
See sunrise over the prairie
As the cattle start to low
I know they say you can’t go back
But I’ve lived long and well
All my friends have gone before
Now there’s just me left, truth to tell
So, when my time is ended
Lay me beneath the prairie sod
Take me back to the beginning
Just me, myself, and God.

Wednesday, November 1, 2017


Poets United Midweek Motif
asks us to consider saints.  I’ve
chosen to think of the anonymous
ones among us, who quietly make
a difference.
Submitted to Poets United
November 1, 2017

There are anonymous saints among us
Who ask not for reward or acclaim
Their faces and forms are varied
Most likely they’ll not achieve fame.

Their small acts of kindness are many
As they quietly make their way
Sometimes they just only listen
Sometimes they have much to say.

They observe their fellow life travelers
Seeming to find those in need
And in ways that are humble and subtle
Leave their legacy of kind word and deed

And when their time is ended
And they reach the Pearly Gate
St. Peter will wave them inward
For anonymous saints there’s no wait. 

Tuesday, October 31, 2017


It’s Tuesday Halloween at dVerse,
and Bjorn asks us to speak of monsters,
goblins and our worst fears.  I’ve delved
deep, and revealed my most dread fear of all.
Submitted to dVerse
October 31, 2017

Deep behind my smiling face
And confident exterior
There lurks a secret thing I fear
There’s truly nothing fearier
It’s of the day my children meet
And in terror I hear them say
She’s a danger to self and others
We must take her car keys away!


Monday, October 30, 2017


Our Haibun Monday challenge is
to feature “kindness”.
Submitted to dVerse
October 30, 2017

There’s a physics theory which, in essence, is the idea that a single butterfly flapping its wings on one side of the globe can, in theory, start a hurricane on the other.  I believe, if this concept were applied to acts of kindness, a single small kindness could be like a pebble dropped in a stream, with the ripples going outward, wider and wider.  There were wonderful role models of kindness in the very rural community in which I grew up.  If a local farmer were ill or injured and unable to harvest his crops, for example, on a given day a virtual army of neighbors would appear, work together, and in a single afternoon finish the task for him.  Conversely, just a kind word or a compliment can make someone’s day. The funny thing about an act of kindness is that it has a boomerang effect.  While our act of kindness affects others, we receive a warm, happy rush for having extended it.   It’s a win-win situation!  Let’s start a kindness revolution!

Pebble in the stream
Ripples ever widening
Be humble and kind


Sunday, October 29, 2017



Forgive me, but the political climate is
fodder I simply cannot resist, so here
is yet another rant for the Poetry Pantry #377.
Submitted to Poets United
October 20, 2017

We sat on our comfy couches
too lazy to get out and vote
and now our ship of state
has turned into a leaky boat
He’s running the country on Twitter
our embarrassment is replete
We’re kept on the edge of our seats
for his daily trick or tweet

He engages in rattling sabers
with North Korea’s Kim Jong Un
Their “can you top this” exchanges
have become a worrisome tune
Just when we think he’s topped himself
in providing political hell
be darned if he doesn’t undertake
a battle with the NFL

We watch “fake news” in amazement
as they present what reason defies
And he continues to stomp and swagger
and believe in his own lies
We’re left to attempt to sort it out
and wade through all the debris
and wish we had politicians
dedicated to representing you and me.

He’s promised to build a wall
and says it’ll be high and wide
If our fervent prayers are answered
He’ll be caught on the other side.

Friday, October 27, 2017


For Meeting the Bar Victoria has
challenged us to write a blackout
poem.   I enjoyed my first so much
I decided to write another just for
fun.  This one is from Lewis Carroll’s
“Jabberwocky”, a bit of delightful nonsense.
Submitted to dVerse
October 27, 2017

Beware the Jubjub bird and
frumious bandersnatch,
long time foe he sought.
Eyes of flame came whiffling
and burbled One two!  One two!
And snicker-snack he left it dead
“Oh frabjous day“, he chortled
“‘Twas brillig!”


Thursday, October 26, 2017


Victoria challenges us to write an erasure
poem or blackout poem,  by choosing words
from existing text and reconstructing them. 
My words are taken from Robert James Waller’s
essay “Slow Waltz for Georgia Ann”, which
appeared in his book "Old Songs in a New Cafe".
Submitted to dVerse Meeting the Bar
October 26, 2017

Looking past the somber faces of paramedics
I saw your tears.  I have trusted the years
But it was the loss of you I feared
I am haunted by the feeling
We might not meet again
We have come here by different ways
Once the dust of your carriage
Was of more value than my life
Now you’ve taught me caring and softness
My task was to teach you about dreams
In another time you might recognize me
And for a strange and flickering moment
Remember ….