Category Archives: Writing

Do You Hear Them…





Words are knocking at the Windows of my soul.

Whispering ever so softly… rattling my proverbial cage

Pressing through trying as they may, they take their first long breaths.

It seems like a lifetime has passed since they had a voice.

A lifetime since they have managed to peek out of their darkness.

I hear them as they beacon to me.

Come, Play, Write..

It is safe now.

Come out and play in the Elysian fields with me.

I, We, They have won.

Conquered the silent darkness that so often plagues me.

Slayed it like a good dragon should be slayed.

St. George would be so proud of me.

I am followed now by crusaders of words lost and now found.

Adorned with a crown of Euphemisms, Allegory, Allusion and Metaphor.

Proudly I set them free..

Let their voices ring and echo, ebb and flow.

Clanging and clattering about like a thousand wind chimes.

Do you hear them…

Windborne like a thousand tiny dandelion seeds.

They dance around my mind.. gathering in clusters and colonies.

Finally Words take shape and pour-out, simply laid, falling right into place.


I Don’t Know How to Do it Any Other Way

Writing is not coming natural anymore.

Stress is overwhelming and  consuming me.

It’s beating me down, making everything dull and lifeless–

like a black and white photograph that has no depth or dimension.

I am forcing myself to write this.

Maybe It is supposed to make me feel.. better?

What is better? What is healing? What is acceptance? These all feel like foreign words.


I command thee..


Go find the words, where are they hiding!

Maybe they are there…. behind the scared mother.

Maybe they are there…. behind the helpless protector.

Maybe they are there…. hiding behind the disappointed parent.

Maybe they are there….lurking behind the anger that I can no longer control when we talk.

Maybe I am just speechless.. utterly shocked by your choices.

Will this ever stop…

Why are you blaming me?

Are you that confused?

Why don’t you want help?

Are you comfortable… being scattered and disheveled?

I did not make you take those pills.

I did not tell you to drink.

I did not force you to smoke.

Yet you blame me…

your anger, your defiance and  your deliberate actions scream back at me,

that I am to blame.

I did not cause this!

You took this path!

You made these choices!

I am only reacting.

I don’t know how to do it any other way…


Helpless and Parenting

a walk alone 2

Excuse sir, me have you seen my little girl

She was bright and so full light

Now she shines with such a dull pain

How I wish I could catch and sooth her rain..

Hold her tight, help her find her will again

She was once filled with awe and wonder

where has she gone.. How do I find her.

I am so scared and so alone in this plight.

Naked feelings run rampant in my mind

I am angry and in so much pain..

I know I push and prod her and she runs again.

Back to the comfort of her darkness.

I need a comfort but cannot find it.

Helpless and Parenting..

Excuse me Sir,  How do I end this..

Transforming the World Through Love

Submitted to Promising Poets Parking Lot for Thursday Poets Rally Week 47


Transforming the World Through Love

I was washed away with glory.

My vision crystal clear

No more lies or stories,

that will take place here..

Perception is not the final word;

I have been so wrong.

Now that I can see this

Please, let me sing my song.


My heart is filled  with ardent joy

for love and life abound.

The diamond reflected facet of hope

is dancing all around

Let me share with you my dreams

so that you can see them too.

Then you will give to those you love,

like I have given to you.



 of fabric – spin tradition

Beauty Latin grace

The Art of Writing

This entry is submitted by me for Thursday Poets Rally Week 46!

The Art of Writing

A writer

weaves their soul

thread by thread

yarn by yarn

into art.

A writer does not just

show you

they take you

on a splendid journey with them

you see,



and feel

what we want you to

not by accident

It is intentional.

Like the Painter

Raw emotions

spill out on the canvas,

As much Art

as a photo,

a drawing

or a piece of clay.

We have given birth to a child–

We have carved out

parts of ourselves

placed them in the public eye

Allowed to be criticized

and torn apart.

As early as Horace,

critics with only visual skills

fail to see the value

in the art of words

— for shame…

A writer can dissect

any painters message

and give it new

life… with


Quiet Creature Comforts

Quiet Creature  Comforts

Peaches, Mangoes,  Walnuts and Brown Sugar,

baked in a muffin.

Crisp Green Lettuce

on my Turkey  sandwich.

Long lazy naps on a Saturday afternoon.

Hot coffee in my mug and nowhere to be.

Warm sun on my shoulders,

warm grass under my bare feet.

Grilled Fajitas and a Movie for two.

Finding the place in the sheets that is still cool

— seeking it out with my toes.

Sleeping in on Sunday Mornings

well past where I should.

Quiet Creature comforts

— relaxation well deserved.


Thank you Promising Poets Parking Lot and The one who Nominated me for Poets Rally Week 45.

I nominate Summer Rain