Life
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September Elegy
Remind me why I live here…
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Do Not Go: Erasure on a Favorite Poem
The dying wise men know / Their words had no lightning.
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Dare we admit that time will ne’er be right?
Dare we admit that time will ne’er be right? ‘Tis 2 AM; we’re far from ending night.
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I’ve Found My Place
I’ve found my place; the place is peace, / Though tangled tempests tip the ship.
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Sonnet XLV – Let Nothing Fill Your Sail
If seeking Something, e’re the hope will fail; Instead, lie back, let Nothing fill your sail.
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Start. again. anew.
start. again. anew. transformed again by some truth
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Bagging ‘Murica – #SoCS
Well, I bagged it yesterday when I should have written (slept in gloriously – no regrets), so I’ll see if I can pull something out today.
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Mystery Meal
Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “product/produce.” Use one, use them both, use them any way you’d like. Bonus points if you use both. Have fun! Hey, remember me? I was once a faithful #SoCS contributor. I went away for a few months. Couldn’t write. I came back and wrote one Saturday entry.…
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the wheels turn
the wheels turn / and slowly the body / succumbs to the treads and the weight / of the monster it carries,
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there is not enough time
in catching up on a life that was lost, I’d miss the living in front of me.
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I know not where to look or stand
I know not where to look or stand… I reach for footing; find just sand.
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Let no one tell you how to live
Let no one tell you how to live;It’s on that day you die a bit.Love is yours to take and give;Let no one tell you how to live.When joy is leaking like a sieve,push forward – hard – and never quit.Let no one tell you how to live;It’s on that day you die a bit.
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edges blur
looking In or Out the Window becomes Looking
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in swirling chaos
in swirling chaos / together – we find center / and you make me feel
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It’s a SIGN…
Or IS it a “sign” at all?
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Catching My Breath
I know, I know, my writing has been spotty (at best) for the last couple months. Ironically, this wordless patch hit me near the beginning of my favorite writing month, National Poetry Writing Month, in April. Two years ago, a friend encouraged me to try it, even though I’d never written poetry (or what I…
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You begin this way:
This is your hand, these are my hands, this is the world, which is round but not flat and has more colors than we can see.
defying atrophy 