Saturday, April 30, 2016

April 30, 2016 Writer's Digest April PAD Challenge 2016/ Dead End Poem NaPoWriMo

Dead End Poem

the end of something             is not necessarily                        the end

perhaps just a portion            of the journey closing                 a relationship ending

not really a dead end             you know                                     a day coming to an end

the end of a school year         the end of a holiday                     a dead end

is something different            death                                            is the real dead end

there is no tomorrow             what you know                             is what you know

the story is over                     no more answers                          the sign

at the end of the pavement    said dead end                                and it meant it

afterwards there is only silence   ... and sorrow                         you will be in another land

there are no do overs            when it comes to death              it will be as it is... dead end

April 30, 2016

Friday, April 29, 2016

April 29, 2016 Writer's Digest April PAD Challenge 2016 / Haphazrd Poem

Haphazard Poem

maybe it is all chance      or take a chance              who knows what will happen

there is always a chance  it could be the best          or the worst

throw the dice                 roll the wheel                   you will never know

unless you are willing     an idea pops in your head        go ahead

what do you have to lose  and maybe the world to gain     it all hangs in the balance

each day another opportunity    to follow the lead     accept the offer

you never know     what is around the bend      unless you take a chance and find out

April 29, 2016

Thursday, April 28, 2016

April 28 2016 Writer's Digest April PAD Challenge 2016 / Important What -- dVerse Open Link Night

Important What

here i sit                       nothing comes to mind                        important (what)

for goodness sake        what is important after all                    if not important

what about necessary   food is necessary and this should be available to everyone

something good to eat  snacks are good too                even if they are not necessary

water                             necessary for life                                fresh and sweet

not dirty                        discolored                                           laced with lead

waterfalls                     might not be necessary                      but oh, what a delight

oceans & seas              a place to sail...                                  only if you have a boat

or as edward lear says   "a sieve"                                      or something else that floats

a roof over your head   a warm dry place to rest                            a cave

or nest                          a place to call home                                   work is necessary

something important to do   something to remember   we are told by edna st. vincent millay

"love is not all            but men are making friends with death       for lack of it"

someone else might say      a motorcycle or a horse                      is important

but then again             we could always walk                        surely a name is important

or how will you know when you are called                                or where we will sit

how will you be identified     then last but not least                  a life to call one's own

April 28, 2016

Wednesday, April 27, 2016

April 27, 2016 Writer's Digest April Pad Challenge 2016/ A "Take-Off" Poem -- Poets United Mid Week Motif/ Open

A “Take-Off” Poem

a day comes            not in every life                          but it did in mine

without warning     you “took off”                             it was a single action

with many consequences       unexpected                   unexplained

for the life of me i have no idea why      ... we all have our reasons

if we are honest      and you must have had your's     when not feeling well

and have no idea what was wrong                      behavior can be strange

still i wonder      was it expectations unmet                simply cleaning house

before the winter chill set in                   life is so full of mystery

and sometimes the actions of others just remain explanations

what is behind it all                          was it something you had planned

or a tactical error     which only made sense           from your vantage point

a day to remember       still only a moment      in the whole scheme of things

i would like to tuck it into a little velvet pouch                  put it away

scrub my brain          never think of it again           some things best forgotten

April 27, 2016



open heart                  open to others                           open mind

new ideas                   new sounds                               new tastes

open in every way      to the world around me       open to becoming unstuck

dissolving the glue      that holds me fear            keeps me from the experiences

that make the world rich      the letter arrives               open it

takes my breath away         it is fear                     afraid to try something new

something a little bit scary    the phone rings               fear again

turns my blood cold          your voice on the line      a knock at the door

i open it                             you chase my fears away         no longer afraid

light floods in           i am released from old fears      welcome fellow travelers

April 27, 2016

Tuesday, April 26, 2016

April 26, 2016 Writer's Digest April PAD Challenge 2016/ A Love Poem -- dVerse/Your Poems

A love Poem

to see you                    to be with you                    the very thought of you

your warmth                kindness                             humor and tenderness

each time                     fresh and new                    yet a long continuum

wrapping                     the silver thread                 from my heart

to your's                       and back again                   to my own

love is complete          comfortable                         no questions

no insecurity                complete acceptance           love is austere

it is not about              what i can get                       but what i can give

silver and gold            are of no value                     when compared to you

you renew my soul      soothe my spirit                     it may not be necessary

but men die                  for lack of it                         i cherish you

April 26, 2016


The Old Man to The Old Woman

he was old                   shuffled as he left the store         shoulders hunched

head down                  heard him say                              but could not understand

someone else explained      he likes your hair                a kindness given

a kind of love             from one old man                        to an old woman

who has also lost       the spring in her step                    she touched her hair

and smiled                 waved to him                                 hello...goodbye

April 26, 2016  

Note:  We really don't get too old to give and to respond to kindness.  


Your Poems

your writing is like pieces of a puzzle      even when you have fitted         each piece

into the whole                               still hard to get the news     some words from dreams

some from imagination                 some from memory              thrown into the air

allowed to stand                            where they fall                     fitted into the picture

where they land                            so many levels                      meaning distorted

stretched                                        exaggerated                          combined with other words

for new meanings                          each word pregnant              with meaning for the whole

even when all are fitted into place   still there is mystery            so much unexplained

the reader             is expected to bring something of their own   fill in the blanks

add paint                                     plug the holes                          finish the story

April 26, 2016             

April 25, 2016 Writer's Digest April PAD Challenge 2016/ Exercise Poem

Exercise Poem

everyday i say                    today                             i will exercise today

i need to                              i want to                       yet everyday

the end of the day draws near               and still you find me at the easel

i have chosen a profession                    that hides its finish line

each day                                      i say i wish i could have done more

for even an artist                 must plan dinner           go to the grocery

make preparations              clean up                         do the laundry

change the sheets                           spend quality time with the one i love

and each day i do all I can                           and never get to the exercise

now that the weather is warmer                i will find the time......

                                                                    the weeds grow in my garden

April 25, 2016

Sunday, April 24, 2016

April 24, 2016 April PAD Challenge 2016 / What is Lost and Later ( much later) Found -- The Sunday Whirl -- Sunday's Whrligig -- Poets Pantry Poets United

What is Lost and Later( much later) Found

we only remember the loss        of something                  we consider valuable

to lose something             you don't care about                 doesn't seem to mean a thing

often we don't even remember     where we left it            when it happened

or what it was                                                     ...who cares

the knock at the door        the chill of ice                           down your spine

suddenly your flesh is wet with sweat    you stand naked             before the open door

you are not a prophet       yet you know who knocks       light streams through the door

a cooling breeze surrounds you                        your temples pound

your vision blurred          moments later                          in the bright light of memory

and the silence after         your vision clears                    in your mind's eye

you remember                  the ascent up into the hills       over looking the valley

nightingales sing              we sipped a crimson wine        tasting the grapes

from which it came          remembering                             hot days of summer

slipped into the refreshing pool     a soothing soak     dissolving the salt from the wounds

wash the tears and ashes from your face       peel the scabs from what would be the scars

we could see the fires below       hear the drums               and imagine the dancing

thought this shangri-la                             would last forever

it happened years ago        only in hindsight                   you can see

each in his own way          walks his own path                you will strive hard

to regain your balance       lost in an instant                    regained over time

April 24, 2016

Saturday, April 23, 2016

April 23, 2016 Writer's Digest April Challenge 2016/ To Walk in Your Shoes

To Walk in Your Shoes

yes             to walk a mile in your shoes                     such a lovely thought

unless      you want me to steal your shoes        take them while you are sleeping

like a thief in the night      or you want me to buy your shoes           either way

you will have no shoes      but if it is just a thought      and you want me to imagine

being in your place            wearing your shoes             it is almost as difficult

i honor you                          i honor your sorrow           yes i know sorrow

but knowing my sorrow     does not make it possible    for me to know your's

i do not presume to know    what you feel                      i offer my hand

and my heart to you             you will live                           until you are alive again

April 23, 2016  

Friday, April 22, 2016

April 22, 2016 Writer's Digest April PAD Challenge 2016 / Star Origin

Star Origin

yes the stars are our origin        we come from stars                  fairy dust and all

they light a desert sky       they are really always there     we just can't always see them

on dark                                       and stormy nights                   we can get lost

most of the time                         they light our way                    bright as fire flies

and sometimes seem so close    you could hold them in your hand    the native people

tell us                                         you look up                        and there are your ancestors

sparkling                                    in the night time sky              in your eyes

in your hair                                i see them                               and call your name

April 22, 2016

Thursday, April 21, 2016

April 21, 2016 Writer's Digest April PAD Challenge 2016 /A Child Waits...A Woman Doesn't

I shall be coming back to you
From seas, rivers, sunny meadows,
Glens that hold secrets:
I shall come back with my hands full
Of light and flowers....
I shall bring back things I have picked up,
Traveling this road or the other,
Things found by the sea or in the pinewood.
There will be a pine-cone in my pocket,
Grains of pink sand between my fingers.
I shall tell you of a golden pheasant’s
Will you know me?

I glanced at the credit for this poem:

Hilda Conkling, Age 10, 1922

Age 10? OF course, I had to know more about this prodigy. I’ll confess that I’d never heard of Hilda Conkling before, or if I had, I’d forgotten about a person once described as “the most famous of all child poets in America.”

A Child Waits...A Woman Doesn't

when the question came up      i was told             you were traveling

seas, rivers and sunny meadows      glens that hold secrets

i could imagine            you there        couldn't wait for your return

knew you would tell me    all that you learned    yes, it would be just like you

returning with your hands full of light and flowers        you were always

the one            with your hands full of things               you picked up

traveling this road or the other               things you picked up by the sea

star fish          creamy white shells             a green glass fisherman's float

a tiny pine-cone in your pocket      grains of pink sand between your fingers

i wait to hear of the golden pheasant's feather    tucked into the band of your hat

i a little girl then      and it all seemed quiet plausible         no longer a child

a woman now        oh, that it would be true          i no longer await your return

April 21, 2016

April 20, 2016 Writer's Digest April PAD Challenge 2016/

What Goes Unsaid

what is there to say        when it has all been said before      what is there to say

after you say                   i am sorry                                        should one continue

to try              to reach understanding when               where lines have been drawn

no matter what is said or done      i am in the wrong                   i have always said

i am sure people             don't get up in the morning                   and say

i think i want to do things             say things that rub other people

the wrong way               i guess everyone needs            someone to blame

you were right              we have grown apart                 i just did not know

the day                         the hour when                            that happened

it seems                       no matter what i do                    you take offense

April 20 2016

Tuesday, April 19, 2016

April 19, 2016 Writer's Digest April Pad Challenge 2016 / Cool Promises

Cool Promises

the last four days              it has snowed                        unseasonably cool

although it usually does in april       just a reminder      winter has not finished

just a little more to say      sometimes it snows in may   ….even as late as june

but melts quickly           this morning the sun sparkled   on crystals

nature really has so much       in her bag of tricks            a cool mountain stream

when you dip your toe in       or wade in to catch a fish             my kitten is cool

asks for his breakfast             or to go out                                   or to come in

on a hot desert day      the sun blisters                 ah... the coolness of the shadows

the coolness of the colors found there          blues, purples and violets           relief

refreshment a sip of cool water           sometimes words            are cool

the opening of the poem          by gwendolyn brooks                  the pool players

“we real cool”                          ending with the words                “we die soon”

what the young think is cool            is just old hat                       to their elders

who have seen more        hopefully know more      don't fall as easily for cool promises

April 19, 2016

April 18, 2016 Writer's Disgest April 2016/ How I Became An Artist

How I Became An Artist

so many years         since i was in the office                   typing and filing

traded it in to pursue        my real life                             study art seriously

of course back then      we were told                               a woman can't be an artist

a mother can't be an artist      who do you think you are          trying to be an artist

there was sacrifice        so many days                           when others were out to play

there i was alone            in the studio                   years spent going in one direction

or another                       only to find it was a dead end                     ...start again

oh so many years ago     i remember an artist friend      said he gave himself two years

to become a portrait artist        still at it some 20 years later   but he has found his signature

his own way                   to visually say it                        i am not sure why

people often think after a long profession at something else      now i will become an artist

would they say that of becoming a concert pianist                  i guess i would say start early

one might work in the office      so they can study art            for one does have to find a way

to support himself          while he is becoming an artist          there are no guarantees

April 18, 2016

Sunday, April 17, 2016

April 17, 2016 Writer's Digest April PAD Challenge 2016/ To Haiku or Not to Haiku -- Poets United Poets Pantry -- The Sunday Whirl -- Sunday's Whirligig

To Haiku or Not to Haiku

i am not much on form            when it comes to                     poetry

it seems to get in my way      i need an open boulevard       no restrictions

i need the freedom                    to write as i please                  to say

what i need to say                     i leave it to others                   to investigate form

April 17, 2017


You Were the Boy (You Were Mine)

old memories                rattle in my brain                         hard to let go

they hang around          as if lost           i remember your baggie pants

below your waist          still a boy                  the boy you will always be

 still i wish we could have talked          you could have told me what you love

what delights you                your wishes                                 and dreams

but you were the quiet one                      hard to get the news from you

you always hated shoes       didn't like socks         loved to go bare foot

you were a better summer time kind of guy                 picking up shells

or arror heads               swimming in the bay                telling tales

and a good one you could tell          so much i remember      so much i forget

you were the one         you picked the colors            red, green and blue

always kind and gentle         a good boy                    yet just out of reach

always seemed content     didn't wear you heart on your sleeve kept it to yourself

out of sight                        prying eyes                      were not welcome

you traveled many miles    you made your journey        in your own way

the best you could             you were not the first             nor will you be the last

still a lad in so many ways       you leave a hole              that cannot be filled

in the hearts that loved you     you left before you time     as so many others have

i would like to think                there is a meeting place      for you and me

but perhaps it is only in memory    we will meet again      may you rest in peace

April 17, 2016

Note:  How to reconsile when someone you love leaves too early?  There is probably no known way, we each have to find our way, in and out of the maze, lonely heartache.  It is said the good die young and maybe it is true.  The words in the song, Vincent,  keep echoing in my nephew, Lance, was a beautiful soul, kind and gentle, "this world was not made for someone as beautiful as you".


Saturday, April 16, 2016

April 16, 2016 Writer's Digest April PAD Challenge 2016/ Where do We Eat

Where do We Eat

where do you eat         it is usually in the kitchen             it is a strange thing

i go to the grocery       gather food                                   we prepare and cook

i think                           i have so enough food                  i will not have to go again

i am set                         but before you know it                 it is all to be done again

i have grown tired         of cooking                                    can't think of a thing

i have found                  there are fewer and fewer             things we like

i think i am bored          wish someone else would cook    i will eat

April 16, 2016

Friday, April 15, 2016

April 15, 2016 Writer's Digest April PAD Challenge 2016 / A New Day

A New Day

yes                           i would register                                            flatline

not dead                   just feel like it           captured within the ring i call life

i look at the clock      eight o'clock                                 time is like a river

there is no way to stop it                    a dam perhaps    

but i don't think that would work        time stops for no one

it just continues        suddenly this moment              is now the past

 slipping into the next past                       ...and the next

like the tick of the clock      that echoes in the hall      and bounces off the wall

the morning completely quiet                 no sound can be heard

 i could be the last person          on the planet              i look around

 everything appears as if in resin    suspended      not a breath of air

 still                        perhaps                  many have not begun their morning

still snuggled in their beds          bed clothes like paper       crumpled into knots

beneath their sleeping bodies       the day ahead        may have many surprises

some good              some not so much                i may find myself on a blacklist

that until now          has not been compiled                           for some silly

or lavish transgression       i brush my teeth                      slip into my daily dress

my thoughts            still in the vessel                                that holds my life's past

i begin each day         missing you                              as if my right arm is missing

my eyes                                  some very important part of me

it has become a habit          i am not ready to break                         soon

i will realize                    it is not just another day                        but instead

it is the first day             and maybe the last day                     of the rest of my life

i think of you                  i remember                                        i love you still

April 15, 2016

Note:  So much I do not was not my intention to write this piece with different fonts, but it has chosen will do what it wants....I am not in control.


  Mother   mother, a simple word just six letters   “m” is for mine, meadow, meow all the wonders of the world wild meadow orchids including...