Tuesday, November 13, 2018

Hope, coffee, and Poetry/imaginary gardens with real toads

Hope, Coffee, and Poetry

Nothing more 
Nothing less
You came into the shop
Where I worked

We chatted
You took my hand
We smiled 
As we looked into each other’s eyes

I thought …a lovely man
Now isn’t that hope?
Of course, I did not know
You would be my lover

But what a nice smile
You came to see me 
We had coffee
We talked of shoes and sailing ships

You told me who you were
And I told you about me
All the pieces fit
The puzzle complete

Based on that chance meeting
You listen to my poetry
You write and read to me
My life complete

You deserve a lover
That is the same
He loves me
He loves me not

He takes away lies
Brings hope
And poetry

November 13, 2018

"You deserve a lover who takes away the lies and brings you hope, coffee, and poetry.”
~ Frida Kahlo

Sunday, November 11, 2018

I Remember You/the sunday whirl world 376 -- poets united

I Remember You 

It was my birthday
In the year of our lord 1991
We made the journey
You fly-fished in the San Juan

The light sparkled off the water
Without knowing
We were exploring a place
That would soon be my home

Land of Enchantment
With our walking sticks
We hiked and sang songs
Just a little off pitch

One never knows what is ahead
Still we continue
Even what we think of 
As the impossible

You said, you could not be happy
Without the coast
We are never really stranded
The road ahead always looks promising

There is no machine
That can tell you what tomorrow will bring
After you left
The years passed

I yearned to talk with you
Ask what you think
After all these years
I miss you still

November 11, 2018

Saturday, November 10, 2018

It is Autumn Again/imaginary gardens with real toads

It is Autumn Again

The wind blows the blades of the windmill

The windmill spins
It is Autumn again

The light of the sun
Reflects from the blades
As the leaves fall from the branches

November 10, 2018

Thursday, November 8, 2018

A Poem is a Self Portrait/A Mirror of You/imaginary gardens with real toads

A Poem is a Self Portrait/A Mirror of You

You ask for a poem
Made of thin air
Seasonings of your choice
Appropriate for the season

Dust bunnies
Hair and bones
A bit of heart
And you

Knead into a ball
Roll flat
And bake in the over

Temperature your choice
Do you like it light-brown
Or do you like it burned
Length of baking time

Again, up to you
The recipe flexible
Suited for your own purpose
Arranged on white paper

Words of black ink
Suited to your own taste
Served best to gathering of friends
Delivered with your best voice

Every poem a self portrait
Like your signature
It is one of a kind
A mirror of you

November 8, 2018

Wednesday, November 7, 2018

Reading Fiction Just for Fun/poets united midweek motif/fiction

Reading Fiction Just for Fun

With our eyes we see
See the words
Give meaning
Collect ideas

Fill inner world
With made up people
Made up ideas
Made up stories

The world seems forever busy
Just to stay alive
Takes so much precious time
Instead I would like to 

Curl up with a book
Let the world go by
Turn off the TV
Turn on the music

Fall down the rabbit hole
Eat the fodder
That enriches life
Colors the narrative

Oh time
Precious time
Why have you forsaken me
I fall asleep reading you

November 7, 2018

Tuesday, November 6, 2018

The Vote/dVerse

The Vote

The vote was made
Signed sealed and delivered
Dropped into the box
In a wink of the eye
We will know
Either we like it
Or we don’t
The chasm appears deep
We swam in deep waters before
We lived to tell about it

November 6, 2018

Savagely Sad/imaginary gardens witth real toads

Savagely Sad

Savagely sad, you say
But what about the people
Who live in war zones
Who try to escape

Who walk for thousands of miles
Without shoes
Barefoot across hot pavement
Across stickers

With blisters
A trail of tears
Each day they carried their dead
The people who gathered to see

Cried all the way
Bring the teapot to the table
Two tea cups
Sit with me for a while

We will talk of cabbages and kings
Of shoes and sailing ships
We will count the missing
Count the empty chairs

We will remember 
When life was full
When we were needed
When we lost our keys

Late for school
Everything hard edge
A man is expected to live 76.4 years
Individual expectation unknown

November 2, 2018

Note:  In a response to a poem, Brendan said, "savagely sad."  And I thought, what a wonderful title, here is my poem.

Sunday, November 4, 2018

Reverie/the sunday whirl #375 -- poets united poets pantry

The morning pink
Above the horizon
The mountains a misty blue
All is quiet and still

No breeze blows
It is as if the world
Is holding her breath
Lost in her dreams

The child sings a song of her own
Attentive to the soft kitten
Petting her gently
Mother stirs the eggs

Prepares breakfast
In her mind
She dreams
Of the long drive home

The past rolls before her
Like a movie
The child tugs on her skirt
She returns to the kitchen

As though for the first time
To find her hands have
Completed the task
She puts breakfast on the table

November 4, 2018

Wordle 375:  Note:  runny, find, corn, spray  These are the words I didn’t use.

Saturday, November 3, 2018

Head on A Tray/imaginary gardens with real toads

Head on A Tray

How often I have felt
I have my head in my hands
When I have misspoken
When I have foolishly called your name

When I have made a mistake
When I have gone the wrong way
It seems my head
Is not on my shoulders

There is it
Sitting on the tray
Along with the teapot
The cups for tea

Come sit with me
As I adjust my head
In the place it belongs
Perhaps it was but a dream

November 3, 2018

Thursday, November 1, 2018

Once Upon a Time/dVerse

Once Upon a Time

Which time am I speaking of
Your time
Behind time
On Time
Lost time

Before time
Slow time
Quick time
Or my time 

The empty shell 
That once held time
Left alone on the sand
The waves wash over

Silent time
The color gray
We gently shake it
No response

The time about which I speak
Is the silence after
No one to explain
What has happened

Why the sky is gray
No one answers your phone
Like the shell
The world is empty without you

November 1, 2018


My Own Poem/Nothing But Death/imaginary gardens with real toads/Nothing But Death--Pablo Neruda

My Own Poem/ Nothing But Death

Sometimes it seems true
Nothing but death
All are dead
The kids you knew at school

So many have died
Old friends have died
There seems no one left
The family all gone

No one to celebrate
That we are still living
The holidays come
The phone doesn't ring

The house is quiet
Your bed is empty
The boy down the street
The one who had aids

Your folks are gone too
And so are your children
One begins to wonder
Is it nothing but death

November 1, 2018

Note: I was inspired by Pablo Neuruda's poem, Nothing But Death.

Wednesday, October 31, 2018

Money/poets united midweek motif/money


Something I have never really known
Thank goodness I have had enough
And yet there have been times of want
As often happens in a life

But always I have had so much more
And I want more for others
At least enough
I want shoes for barefoot Mothers

Who carry their children so many miles
To seek a better life
I want more for hungry children
For those in need

After all 
Need is so much greater
Than want
Money, what is it good for

The basis for trade
And all the essentials of life
In order to have them
We need money

The world has become a place of greed
Sitting atop large sums of money
You can see those who have none
Money can help make a better life

…or a life better
Do not make me beg
Open your purse
Share what you have
Make someone’s life better

October 31, 2018

Tuesday, October 30, 2018

Bliss/Imaginary Gardens with real toads


Let us talk of bliss
What is it?  
It is the center of my life
The core of my being

And what is found there
It is my work
So hard to speak of it
Will you understand

The excitement I feel
A new idea crystalizes
The work begins
This morning

I will mix colors
Though I have them in mind
I need to actually see them
I am excited

Then to paint
To move the brush
To spread the paint
To be alive in the colors

Combined in a unique way
It is not that every idea 
Is great
No that is not it

It is to be able to create them
To see them
To share them
My gift of bliss is my great pea-green boat 

October 30, 2018

Sunday, October 28, 2018

Memories of Another Day/poets united poets pantry -- the sunday whirl

                                                        Taos Mountain

Memories of Another Day    
A slight breeze
Moves the sage
Outside my window
The sun shines brightly

In a forever light-blue sky
The child you were
Stands shyly in the shadows
Of the portal

Shading your eyes
From the brightness
Of the morning sun
Eggs piled high

On Granma’s best
Blue and white china plate
The waves roll in
One by one

Misty morning at the beach
The child attentive
Runs from the spray
As each wave hits the shore

Like a movie
It plays in my head
The corn roasting on an open fire
People gather, sing songs

End of the day
Long drive home
Only to find
You are no longer there

October 28, 2018
Wordle 375:     

Saturday, October 27, 2018

Where I Write/imaginary gardens with real toads

Where I Write

My house is small
Just a little casita
Years ago, we build a studio
A place to paint

A place to work
A place to write
My desk faces Northeast
To my right

I look out at Taos Valley
To the village below
And the mountains beyond
I can see the early morning sun

Rise with pale pinks flooding
A pale blue early morning sky 
Over the dark blue mountains
To my left I can see 
Mostly sky usually blue
Just outside the widows

The sage brush grows
The view is very similar
To looking out to sea
The sage a low intensity green

That looks very much like waves
I am often reminded of my home
On the coast
I write on the computer

My chair is a worn office chair
Blue green
Classical music 
Visibly floats in the air 

Sounds from a piano, or cello, or violin
Keeping time
For otherwise time would be lost 
As I am lost in my work

October 27, 2018

Friday, October 26, 2018

New Beginnings/dVerse

New Beginnings

The clock struck one and away we run
Somewhat strange for a sundial
Never heard it before
Didn’t know it could speak

The clock struck two
Just me and you
Put the kettle on
Sit for a spell

The clock struck three
One more than you and me
Take a nap
Get up for the news

The clock struck four
We sit and chat some more
I share my news
You tell me yours

The clock struck five
Man alive
In the kitchen
What shall I cook

The clock struck nine
The day ceases to be
Draw your bath
Say your prayers

Wait for morning
Begin again

October 26, 2018

Thursday, October 25, 2018

Identity Unknown/imaginary gardens with real toads

Identity Unknown

Something unexpected on the shore
Be it night or day
You wail your song
A song not often heard

In fields near by
Reminds one of bells that ring
In different series
Soft and loud

Later you might find
You hum along
A series of rings
Heard in the fog

Someone asked did you see him
And the answer is no
I didn’t see him
Have no idea what he wore

But from his foot prints
I would say… probably
A pair of yellow boots
His feet were “long”

We were afraid
When we heard his rings
Ran away from the shore
Ran all the way home

October 25, 2018

Wednesday, October 24, 2018

Winter/poets united midweek motif


For me, winter always represents 
A world of white
A world of possibilities
A world of giving

A world of dreams
Sitting by the fire
The chores all done
The music of my heart 

Fills the cold and crisp air
Like snowflakes dancing 
As they fall to the ground
Transforming the world

No longer the bare trees
Who have lost all their leaves
Instead a fairly land
Of glittery branches

Winter is the time of promise
A time of contemplation
Spring will come
New life
And we can feel all is right with the world

The winter I describe
Is not the always winter
But the winter of my dreams
The winter I wish for you

October 24, 2018 

Monday, October 22, 2018

Christmas Comes Slowly/dVerse/early

Christmas Comes Slowly

I avoid what comes too early
Instead will wait for Christmas
A long wait indeed
But send my love for now

The sun never rises too early
Always just on time
I hate to be late myself
Hate to make the little ones wait

October 22, 2018

Sunday, October 21, 2018

Florence/poets united poets pantry -- the sunday whirl

The waves hit the shore
A storm like no other
Formed in the salty sea
Without charm
But she has class
A class four to be exact
She huffs and puffs
Every house falls down
The site of her landing
A disaster…

The needle pierces the fabric
Then returns
All that we had
Washed away
Sinks to the bottom of the bay
Returns to the shore
Another day
Coiled with seaweed and shells
Picked by a beach comber
Searching for treasures
Years after the storm

October 21, 2018

Wordle 374 resonate, charge, electricity  

Thursday, October 18, 2018

It Is October Again This Year/dVerse

It Is October Again This Year

Scratch notes into my journal
Fingers touch the keys
You pull the bow across the strings
Beyond the music
I hear the crunch of your footsteps

On the gravel 
Golden leaves fall
Branches bare
You fill my memories
It is October again this year 

October 18, 2018

My list of words:
  • gravel                  leaf                    october                branch                          notes

Beauty in Ugliness/dVerse

Beauty in Ugliness

What is beautiful
What is ugly
Only you can say
It is personal

The whole idea of beauty
Is a mystery
Since beauty is not to be found
In this world

In the eye of the beholder
What is beauty after all 
Is it first light of day

Is it your smile
The sparkle in your eyes
The light that shines from within
The smoothness of your dress

Buttons on your jacket
Your little pink nose
A glorious sunset
The blue of the lizard’s tail

Perhaps it is memory
The two boys who died to soon
Strong and tall
Or you, in your red bathing suit
Trailed by your little black dog

Beauty is awe of this world
For what else do we know
The sparkle of stars
The glow of the moon

Perhaps beauty is a poem
With words so carefully selected
I can “see” what you “say”
My heart stops for a long second
It takes my breath away

October 18, 2018

Hope, coffee, and Poetry/imaginary gardens with real toads

Hope, Coffee, and Poetry Nothing more  Nothing less You came into the shop Where I worked We chatted You took my h...