Monday, October 21, 2013

Halloween party

Ruby lips
leather snugness
curls bounce
swirling skirts
hot high boots
braided crop

Sweat beads
color blooms
skin gleams
voices murmur
fingers stroke
thanks given

And accepted

Wednesday, October 9, 2013

Musca domestica

Lazily careening around
the office, bouncing off the
buzzing lights, dancing delicately
on each and every slat of the
mini blinds, buzzing vibrating
like a small chainsaw,
with time off to dive bomb the
human as she contemplates an
especially knotty bookkeeping
problem, and longer
pauses on the sill,
framed in cloudy morning light,
daintily cleaning each leg and wing.
antennae twitching thoughtfully,
compound eyes blinking, scheming.
Some suicide missions succeed as
it briefly careens off her
forehead to deposit microscopic
filth, delighted at thrashing arms
and low cursing.
Swatted at irritably, the fly
zooms off a new and
equally intriguing trajectory,
looping her head again
and again, until
his guts crash
through his small brain as a
swatter slams him into
oblivion on a cinder block

(Inspired by the prompt at Imaginary Garden with Toads, Point of View With Place, 10/9/13)

Ode to a Woman on the Edge of Time

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You risked those
cliff edges of forbidden
topics and family storms
to pen dramatic truths of
women and their battles of
validation and identity.
You refused to be confined or
shaped by men's structure,
demands, or
capricious grammatical rules.
Your work inspired my life
choices, my master's thesis,
my daughter's name, and
my writing style.
To always, always tell
the emotional truth and
honor my feelings, my
history, my needs,
my tears.
Thank you for
not only helping find
my voice, but to speak
with it in my writing.

(Written for the prompt at Poets United, "Writers are Lovers", 10/9/13)


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A word to describe
who I aspire to be
how I will be of service
where I am striving to go
how I understand the
Spirit of the Universe.
"A mystical force present
in all people that empowers
them to affect the world,
or to effect changes in
their own lives."

This word delights and
appeals to me,
a Higher Power by any
other name is still God.

The Presence shines in my eyes
exudes from my skin
radiates in my activities and
personality and intentions.
I glow in the dark when I am most
in tune and in sync with my Orenda.
Those around me take a little piece
of Her, of me, after every interaction.
I'm glad to share the wealth of
good and positive that has been
so freely given to me.

Almost ten years have unfolded
since You revealed yourself to me.
I am honored to know your name
at last.

Tuesday, October 8, 2013


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Another email, full of the
usual cheery questions about
me and deadly silence about
you, making me wonder...

What if you were the
lunatic all these years
not the others,
whom you blamed for
your work
personal dilemmas
financial woes?

Why won't you ever
explain to me what
is really going on with
you and your alleged
health problems,
hiding behind
veiled innuendo and
the insisted upon
veil of privacy from
creditors and ex's,
pretending that I am
some sort of security
risk to keep me at
a distance from
the truth?

How dare you claim
friendship and long-suffered
love for me, while trying
to verbally minimize me
my needs my feelings?

Where did you get the idea
that you, like my
family of origin,
had the right
to make me into
the crazy one, the
unreasonable one, the
selfish narcissistic one,
just so that you
could look

Who do you think you
are, to attempt to
define my reality
my emotions, especially
twenty years later?

When are you going
to clean this up, make
things right between us,
and quit peddling this
sickly alternate view of

It really was YOU all along,
wasn't it, who was
the unsound one, the
logical lunatic,
the controlling mad man?

I was, in fact,
the normal one,
love without pain.

Those weren't insane
expectations from
someone who thought
she loved you -
they were

(And don't ever tell me
again that 'normal' is a
setting on a dishwasher.)


detached with love
removed from risk
immersed in self care
accused of aloofness.
Your point is?
I didn't know you
were even tuned in
enough to
my station to
notice that
I have been
holding myself
separate from
your personal
shit storm.

Sunday, October 6, 2013


Why do I love my single life
so much?

Besides the fact it is my life.

What underpins his?

Mud. Dirt. Weeds. Dust.
Chaos. Indecisiveness. Mold.
Clutter. Water issues. Debt.
Insecurity. Loneliness.


The shining floors
the carefully swept cement driveway,
contentment, meditation,
clean, healthy food,
music misting the corners and
candles scenting and centering
each room, purring furnace,
and leaf-blanketed yard.
Decisions about tough things
made, not disregarded.
A care for well being.
A home.

And...the soul-deep peace
with no need to long after things
unavailable or unwanted.

(Inspired by the prompt at Theme Thursday, "Cement", 10-3-13)

Thursday, October 3, 2013


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Again and again
I come to this place
where my biggest trigger
kicks my ass
brings me low
dishes me despair
flogs me hopeless.
Thunderous clouds of
financial worries
dull my eyes, raise the
blood pressure, feed
the addictions and 'isms',
terrify the Inner Kids
with old fears and hurts
Weary of being forced to
my knees, bowing my
neck to the uncertainties
and pain of my very own
Please make it stop.

Wednesday, October 2, 2013


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An old divey store front
peered through in the
dusk of now
remembering a party
long past
at this dark locale,
watching bodies dancing
lights flickering
glasses clinking
eerily vibing something
wondering if I walked in
there today,
would I come
face to face with the
spirit of myself
from long ago
wearing the mask of
alcoholism disguised
as fun.

Off to see the Wizard

Sauntering slowly through fields of flowers
observing the horizon gently stretching towards me
wondering at the pilgrimage that is
every unfolding, if only I will behold the moment.
Sometimes, those flowers are wicked witch
poppies and I must be alert for obstacles
and tripping hazards and subtle quicksands.
It's too easy to get caught in the somnolence
of life's mazes, though the vista is fantastic
if I can balance the walk and the wandering.

(Poem inspired by and image from "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads", 9/30/13)


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Timid toddler
Abused child
Angry teen
Wild young woman
Reluctant mother
Middle aged possibly
veering toward
but I don't feel old.
Living all those stages of
though more
poised and
accepting than I have
ever been.
A fellow traveler
I had not seen
or remembered
in two decades
solemnly informed me
that I was a hot mess
at twenty four.
I waded in that memory pool
for a few moments
musing over the
rage confusion
I don't miss those days of
tension uncertainty fear.
Woman wise accepting self
in all phases.
(Inspired by the prompt at Sunday Scribblings, "Bio", 9-29-13)