My neighbours live
on four different continents
in seven distinct countries.

It is a community of words.

Some residents are always there —
every morning watering their garden,
sprucing up their yard,
walking up and down the streets,
cheerfully bellowing happy greetings to anyone they think might be home.

Others come and go,
drifting in and out of sentences,
dashing off lines before they rush off to work,
wanting to be more present in the page,
but living more in activity.

Some use their pad
as a soapbox for deeply held convictions.
They shout from the rooftops,
vehemently vociferating,
emphatically pontificating,
usually engaging with those who preach from their own parapets.

Others enthusiastically purchase a property,
start constructing a home
and engage with other townsfolk for a little while
before abandoning their resolutions:
comment, comment, like, like, silence, delete, delete.

This homeland is a tangled web
where denizens meet through screens and finger tapping,
sharing little bits of written code,
reaching out,
touching others,
sometimes more profoundly than ever could a raised or clasped hand.

This is a realm
of soulful messages
from the heart.


blogging uToday’s assignment for Blogging 101 was to engage with the community by reading other blogs.

“Why spend time reading other blogs?

  •  Publishing posts is only half of blogging — engaging with the community is the other.
  • Considering what other bloggers write will inspire you and sharpen your thoughts.

    Part of what makes blogging a rich experience are the relationships we develop with people around the world. That only happens when we engage.”

I love reading other blogs.  But today our town’s internet is down (for a few days?) so I will have to postpone my perusing. (Publishing through limited cellphone data!)

I have been encouraged, inspired and joyfully surprised by so many other writers around the world.  I’ve made some very precious friends whom I have never met face-to-face, but I have laughed and cried with them and spent time on my knees praying for them.

The small piece above is a tribute to the world of blogging.  🙂

This Skin


This skin, which holds me in,
creates a water-proof barrier between us.
Here I end.  (full-stop)  (capital letter)  There you begin.
No overlap, no bleeding into you, no dissolving one into another.

This skin, which holds me in,
defines me like an afghan over an old sofa, preventing you from seeing my innards —
— heart rapping on a marimba ribcage,
— blood racing vascular streets until it hits capillary traffic jams and takes a roundabout home,
— lungs filling like a cluster of raisins plumping with juice only to deflate into wrinkled dryness seconds later.

This skin, which holds me in,
hosts an intricate web of lacy nerves which constantly inform me of outer spacial conditions
(hot, cold, soft, prickly, smooth, rough, moist, dry)
and allow me  (in the middle of nightmare darkness) to find you and feel your comforting arms surround me in warm safety.

This skin, which holds me in,
is  T H I C K , well covered with age-acquired calluses.
My first defence against bad bacteria, vigilant viruses and nasty names thrown at me by mean menschen,
like Superman, the bullets bounce right off this skin.




Writing 201: Poetry
Assignment — Day 3:

Prompt: SKIN
Form:  Prose Poem
Device: Internal Rhyme

A prose poem is any piece of verse written using the normal typography of prose, while style maintaining elements of poetry, like rhythm, imagery, etc.  A prose poem, by definition, has no fixed rules. Internal rhyme adds a level of sonic complexity and playfulness without calling too much attention to itself the way end rhymes do.

I had fun with SKIN!  Seems once I started I just wanted to go on and on.  Part of this is because I love the freedom of prose (and I am so darned ‘wordy’).  But mostly because skin is such an amazing thing!  I am rather attached to mine.    🙂    (Did I just hear you groan?)