Today’s daily prompt: Longing


On this cold, dark day of my winter

I long to stand on the waterfront of my youth

with the sun warming my skin

and the breeze blowing my hair.

I long to cast stones with the carelessness of those earlier days

and let them skim across the water.

How I long to watch their ripples once again

through the eyes of innocence.


A/N: Kind of fitting for today – my 42nd birthday! Not that I am in my “winter,” but you know how folks can get sentimental when they turn a year older.

Also fitting: that beautiful young lady in the photo is my daughter. My mini-me in many ways, I love to see things anew through her eyes.

For those of you who missed Weekend Rewind last weekend, I apologize. Life has been distracting me this week but I should return this weekend.



“I’m fine.”

“Nothing is wrong.”

These become the lies with which we build the walls.

Your walls are quite solid, well-constructed. Even as I lay beside you, touching you, the walls keep me isolated. I cannot surmount them. Even as I feel your warm skin, I am left cold. Outside. You are here, but not.

I try desperately to see around or over the walls, to glimpse what once was. I try to scrape my way though until my fingers bleed but the walls stand firm.

There are so many things that I want to say to you but the walls only deflect and distort them. So we lay – together but miles apart – separated by the loneliest silence.



Written for the Daily Prompt: The Outsiders



Day 3: Home

Writing 101: Day 3: One-word inspiration. Select one word from the list that speaks to you in some way.


Despite the walls that she so carefully constructed,
Despite her best resistance,
He edged past the barriers
And surreptitiously made his way
Straight into her heart.
Patiently he worked,
Patching the cracks and mending the breaks.
He decorated the walls with grace
And made his home there.

photo credit: Eirik Solheim



Masks and camouflage
Smoke and mirrors
Distraction, deflection
Whatever you want to call it

Promises distorted but not broken
Technicalities, really.
Whatever keeps your conscience clean

Lies with good intention
So good you actually believe them
Yet they are still as sharp as the blade of malice

Your apathy is not a coat that you can hang on my shoulders
It does not fit
It does not keep me warm

I shed my pain like a hemorrhage
Your band-aid is a stopgap
But I bleed through

New dawn brings new light
I decide to bleed no more

photo credit: Paul Tomlin

Happy World Poetry Day!

happy world poetry day

March 21 is World Poetry Day, a day to support poetry and poets around the world.  I know, March 21 is almost over.  But I didn’t want this day to go by without acknowledging it.

A favorite verse of mine:

oscar wilde

And you can find my poems here.

What are some of your favorite poems or favorite poets?

A Drop in the Ocean

Precious soul, you were but a whisper that only I could hear

yet you adorned the hopes and dreams
held secret in my heart

Tiny spirit, instead of sleeping in my arms
you dance in the warmth of the sun and wander among the stars
forever light and free

Gentle one, you were but a drop in the ocean to most
unseen, unheard
quickly forgotten

My child, to me you were a great wave
powerful and crashing
still echoing in my core

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

photo by Chris Luczkow

A/N: I wrote this about a pregnancy loss that I experienced years ago. It started out as an elegy, but as always happens, I take too long to get things written and I get behind in my assignments. I intended to keep up with the poetry class but I found I am spending way too much time trying to follow the rules – acrostic, elegy, ode, limerick, ballad, etc. – and spending less time actually writing. And I have precious little time for writing. I am so impressed by all of my friends who have done the course and I think studying those forms is important, but it is not something that I have time for at the moment. I will focus on expression and not on the format. Happy writing, everyone!


In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “A Moment in Time.”

His eyes stare at me from the photo,

full of light, love and mischief;

full of life.

I remember that morning,

how the light streamed in the window

and accented his face on the pillow,

how his dark hair flopped over one eye,

the look of the stubble on his chin.

This man, who filled my bed and

filled my life with love and laughter,

frozen for a moment in time.

A precious moment, 

brief and fleeting.

If I had known it would be the last photo,

I would have taken a thousand more.