xxi advent


loves the story,
how all the puzzle pieces
fit perfectly together
(although they are scattered
across thousands of years).
A scholar
(and a gentleman),
he meticulously did all the research
(dotting eyes
crossing teas).
Ask him,
I dare you,
and watch his face glow,
his arms wildly gesticulate,
as he relates
the wonder of

give thanks


Give thanks with heart and soul and mind.
Give thanks, for weakness begets strength and wings are born of dreams.
Give thanks, for seeing is not truth and truth is mighty as mountains.
Give thanks, for the work of hands,
……………………for the journey of feet,
……………………for the coming in and going out.
Give thanks, for the song of joy,
……………………for the cry of sorrow,
……………………for the silence of wonder.
Give thanks for a new day,
…………………..for a restful bed,
…………………..for a life well lived.
Give thanks.


Today, Day 8, we create a list of affirmations and use them to write a poem with anaphora (repetition used to create emphasis).

free weight


today he exploded,
scattering bits of his psyche
about the room.

the fuse was lit on monday,
terminal velocity reached on tuesday,
wednesday was down to earth.

gravity pulls him
with a force stronger than others
in direct proportion
to his desire to fly.


This is a silly bit of free verse in Day 7 — “letting go.”
It is dedicated to one of my precious students
who finds life too confining.

long day

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knit together, i am an oversized, cowl-necked jersey in hues of magenta, orchid and plum, with pulled threads and mothy holes.
i am a word-squeezer, thirsty for juice, clumsily wielding a sword, often slaying the metaphor.
i am a reluctant domestic, dragging lead feet and dirty mops across well-worn floors.
i am grey chameleon who refuses to blush, insisting the environment must change.
i am thirty-seven trillion cells, all intricately fitted together like proud jigsaw pieces.
i am a muffin-maker, bread baker, dish washer, laundry-folder, dust-buster.
i am tired
and lay me down to sleep.


Day six and we are making I AM statements and then reworking them into descriptive, tactile poems.
Today was   L O N G  and taxing.  With self-love I’m putting myself to bed.


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clenched fists clutch false self
rehearsing shadow puppets
please see through the mask



Today we write a Senryu (which is like a Haiku, but focuses on the essence of a human moment).  It is supposed to contain self-forgiveness.
I wrote a dozen of these but was never satisfied.
The first was:

Believe. It’s true.
“God don’t make junk.”
And he made you.

And then:

Let go the bitter
surrender the self-assault
you are beloved

Both too prescriptive and dry.
I will have to revisit this prompt!

owner’s manual


Listen to my heart,
carve out quiet,
hold time,
love each day,
touch the ones I love,
and play in the world . . .




For the fourth day of 28 days of Self-Love we’re looking at commitment.
We were to write a piece of stream-of-consciousness and then take that piece and from it “Find a Poem.”  There’s a message here for me . . . my soc writing



Earth –
firm land –
binds me fast,
roots me to soil.
So why, then, does my heart yet dream of wings?


Day three of 28 days of Self-Love and Grace has us “grounding” and writing a Tetractys, a poetic form consisting of at least 5 lines of 1, 2, 3, 4, 10 syllables (total of 20).

I walked around in the unexpected, cool rain of summer.  As I squished my toes in mud and walked over countless bits of microscopic life, my heart and head were continually called to the noise of the hadedas and starlings in the trees overhead.  One particularly raucous group of ibis flew as I approached, and I felt myself yearning to rise with them.
I chastised myself and redirected my thoughts to ground and squishy mud, but today my head was in the clouds.

last breath


stretch skin taut with air
let go, release the south wind
our child now with God



For day two of 28 days of Self-Love Grace asked us to focus on mindful breathing and then to write a Haiku.

My little offering is filled with the pain of losing a loved one to cancer.  But, in the midst of grief and heartache, there is hope and mercy.  My friend wrote this: “Because Jesus is alive, Anthony is alive.  We rejoice in his release and healing.  He leaves a big hole in our hearts, but by grace this will be filled with God’s love and memories.”

Today, as I purposely breathed, with each breath I thought of Anthony, painfully fighting for air.  There must be joy (mingled with sadness) in letting go.



living words leap about the page,
painting pictures of the world,
connecting seven point six billion dots.


ripe, ruby raspberries,
every plump corpuscle joined to the next —
a compound red-eye.


i hold your hearts as i once held your hands:
gently firm in wondrous awe, a sense of privileged honour
with boundless grace to balance massive debt.



2018 hit hard. I got knocked down.

Today begins 28 days of self-love
and I’m in, by the skin of my teeth, holding on for dear life!

Check out Day One where we are challenged to cultivate gratitude
and to create 3 Line Poems.