a wannabe rockstar
a quiet, tenacious hero
breached conventions
and made you

that sly, cocky glance
a silly rebellious heart
defied better judgement
and made me

you (of the scotch-taped heart)
me (of the firm resolve)
baffled the odds
across several continents,
flew into giddy life
and made (miraculous) us



Inspired by Toads.

another adieu


This watercolour life is bleeding into a running tap,
colours circling the basin before they disappear.
Desperately I try to snatch them back
but I am only left with wet hands
and grey guts.

I know
we are not promised
eternity this side of heaven
but some
to pass before their time.

I am too weary
of saying goodbye,
too tired to lift my head for the chorus,
too washed out to feel the pain.

So forgive me if I retreat in silence.
My head knows
the sun will rise in the morning.
But my heart still holds the shadows.



Written for d’Verse   (meant for five days ago — I am slower than slow)  on Abhra’s last time as host for d’Verse Poetics prompt.  The prompt: write a poem about the farewell you gave but didn’t mean to.

My Hiding Place


Caught between a rock and a hard place, there is no paradise to which I can run, no tranquil valley, no solitary sanctuary, no redwood cathedral, no primal pounding shore.

Here is my retreat, here is my hiding place: adopting a Susanna pose, I fall into psalms somewhere between crying out and lying down. Jagged I come, frayed, unravelled, tattered, weary and worn. A gentle rhythm sways me like a young child in mother’s arms. Slowly colour sneaks back into the picture, the focus sharpens and harmonies gently roll over me. Sharp edges are made smooth, rent places are made new, crooked made straight, the low are exalted. And I breathe, really breathe again.

Though the temporal lives
in chaos, my soul dwells in
the house of the Lord.


Monday Toni hosted Haibun Monday at dVerse.  We were to write a one to two paragraph compact haibun describing an activity we use to relax ourselves and then use the haiku at the end to share our rest.

It has taken me until today to write this (and I am still not satisfied), because this week has been the opposite of restful. But while the exterior is chaotic, the interior is at peace.:)

lost words


just words,
random words,
scribbled on bits of paper,
scrunched into pockets,
shoved into bags.

the idea of the words
flitters in and out of consciousness,
teasing, taunting, tormenting.

in weary resignation
i retire,

maybe tomorrow.




you knew now
what you’ll know then
you’d stop your fool self
from choosing this free way.
I know the thrill, sudden high,
dauntless fire, giddy confidence.
But remember the ignorant frog
dying — heat rising degree by degree.


Over at d’Verse Victoria is serving up Etherees.  Go see and give it a whirl!

The Etheree was developed by Arkansas poet, Etheree Taylor Armstrong in the late 20th Century. An Etheree, based on syllables or words, is a geometric form, ascending from one to ten or inverted from ten to one.

The Etheree is commonly centred, but this one felt better left-aligned.



Slothfully slow
her every action
suggests weariness.
With a sigh
she pulls her favourite lavender cardigan
over her old-lady tummy
and buttons it.

Once upon a time she would have argued (and won)
with her know-it-all daughter-in-law.
Mauve, indeed, she thinks,
pulling the lightweight, silver walking frame over.
She begins the shuffle toward breakfast.

Creamed wheat.
milky soup.
Oh, a lifetime of days till Sunday.
Wondrous, Bacon Sunday



Over at d’Verse,  guest-host Walter Wojtanik challenges us to write a character study.  “Tell us about this person through their actions (without naming the character). Let their quirks and traits speak for them.”

I have more work to do on this piece, but my eyes won’t stay open and my fingers aren’t cooperating.

Beggars Can’t Tango


Curiosity killed the midnight oil.
You look a bit green around the bush
barking up the grapevine.
You need a taste of eggs in one basket.
A picture paints a grain of salt
once in a silver lining.
It takes two to be choosers.




Today at dVerse Grace is serving up Quadrilles.
The challenge:  write a Quadrille (a piece of 44 words — no more, no less — the title doesn’t count) using the word GREEN.

Can you figure out this funny piece?  :)



Older Entries


Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 196 other followers