Monday, May 29, 2017

dVerse/ Hilibun Monday

I cannot remember the date, the year, or season.  Was it so long ago? I know it was more than three years ago.  Together, two peas in a pod, as we have always been.  Something happened, the platter was broken.  The story untold. 

We stopped at a thrift store, and the broken platter was on a table outside.  Priced too high.  But still I liked it, blue and white, like the New Mexico sky.  It was badly repaired, hardened thick glue oozing out of the cracks, dried into place. I picked up the platter, even broken a real jewel.  I asked, and sure enough, the people were appalled by the price on the tag, said it was wrong and quoted a price I could afford.  The treasure was mine, little did I know it would foretell the future, our relationship would be broken just like the platter, badly repaired.  And like Humpty Dumpty couldn’t be put back together again.  The crack would always visible, no amount of gold would make it whole again.

New Mexico blue sky/white clouds
Broken into two
No amount of gold would do

Note:  Like my platter, it was not perfect and my Haiku isn’t either.

Saturday, May 27, 2017


Sunday's Whirligig


snow obscures the image     the picture isn’t clear               for all the huffing and puffing

in the cornfield maze                       the way forward                                            obscured

go in circles                            incapable                                           of finding the way
even the road less traveled       no longer visible                     at the edge of the field we stand          


we find traces                        of those who have gone before                   follow the path

innocents all                          pursuing life’s path                          knap sack full

a marriage of convenience       the pilgrim and the journey                     long or short

the songbird                          in his yellow dress                             feathers a deep green

 confined to his cage              sings the same sad song                              all day long

May 27, 2017


The Sunday Whirl/ Wordle #301


i breathe in the morning                       in all of its’ quietude             the barking dogs/quiet

perhaps they are still sleeping               no cars can be heard                below in the valley

it is memorial day                     is everyone quietly remembering          his own special memory

no church bells peel…yet                     still early                          at last the season has changed

first of summer                        no longer cold                             still, it snowed twice last week    

time to get out and about          hike the trails                           skipping stones

blue water reflecting                 blue new mexico sky                grass is growing in my garden

since i have stopped pretending            i am a farmer               i have decided i like grass

and weeds                                they grow strong                       and take what they need

without assistance                     my kitty likes them                   he thinks it is his own jungle

he crouches in the grass            crack                                        he snaps out

catnip grows in the garden        in the overlapping weeds          what fun he has

he is hunting                            and in his mind’s eye                he is in africa

the big game hunter      he seems to make up his story as he goes along        crack

he pops up                               runs to the wall                        scales it in one leap

runs up the post                       and back down again               for all the world

he looks like he is having fun   risking life and limb                 for the game

water seeps from the faucet/the plants i planted last year       are crimped and squeezed

the grass and weeds take charge            others have to ask permission/all is a little unruly

May 28, 2017             







Wednesday, May 24, 2017

A BOUQUET FOR MISS O'KEEFE --Poets United/flowers


yes, no one knew flowers         better than georgia        or how to paint them

make them look just like a woman’s “cooter”   and when called out     deny it

oh… she was a tricky woman      with wily ways           smart, crafty, cunning

and what a painter…                each flower                  she selected

she rendered it perfectly         with her skills              onto the canvas

intimate/personal                     tender                          miss o’keeffe

with her                                   lake george                   her new york city

her new mexico landscape            abiquiu                    the pedernal (which she 
                                                                                      painted so often, she said
                                                                                      god gave it to her)        

skulls and bones                       crosses in the desert      ghost ranch

the lawrence tree                      red poppy flowers         ranchos church

slightly open shell                     slightly open knees      lilies white and pink

jimsonweed, white flower #1     or devil’s snare            or angel’s trumpet

pink sweet peas                        mons pubis                  labia majora

labia minora                 clitoris/vaginal opening           deny it to her dying day

still…all there              for us to see                 a daring woman for her day…or any day

you would have to be blind not to see    the painter she was         a giant among artists

May 24, 2017