Tuesday, October 15, 2019


Submitted to the Sunday Muse #77
October 15, 2019

Rebeca Cygnus Photography

Pluck from the tree of lessons learned
Sip from the pool of sorrow

Know what it is to love and lose
And still believe in tomorrow

Garner the courage to seize the day
And face it with  an open mind

Eagerly explore the road ahead
Don’t dwell on the road behind

Thursday, October 10, 2019


dVerse Form For All!  Consider
pop art, a cultural phenomenon or some
such.  My mother used to grind Spam
with some hard boiled eggs, onion,
pickle, celery and mayonnaise for a
gastronomic delight she called
Spamwiches.  Here’s my tribute!
Submitted to dVerse
October 10, 2019

When did Spam fall from grace
It was once considered handy
Mom served company Spamwiches
They liked them fine and dandy

Today it’s being frowned upon
An object of ridicule
What’s happened to that standard
We once thought was so cool?

Monday, October 7, 2019


Quadrille #89. Our poem is to feature
the word “set” in exactly 44 words.
This one is dedicated to my father.
Daddy’s gone now, but he’ll appreciate this one!
Submitted to dVerse
October 7, 2019
The photo is of my parents' hands
on their 50th wedding anniversary.

No need for communication
Clearly her mind was set
Nevertheless he loved his woman
Stubborn as a woman can get
For fifty years he’d hankered
Just once she’d let him be right
As usual, he patted her bottom,
Kissed her, and said “Good night.”

Tuesday, October 1, 2019

Grandma's Stove

Time for Tuesday Poetics, and Grace
has asked us to feature FOOD in
our writing effort.  My special memories
of food take me directly to the kitchen
of my grandmother and the huge round
table that sat near her magic black
cookstove. Food and family intermingle
in m mind.
Submitted to dVerse
October 1, 2019

Saturday, September 28, 2019


Submitted for The Sunday Muse #75
inspired by the photo below.
September 29, 2019
Once I stood atop the mountain
mistress of all I surveyed
How sweet to survey my kingdom
for which I'd so dearly paid
But I slipped from the promontory
it seemed I had only just gained
and I found that I stood in the valley
with the mountain before me again.
I vowed I would conquer the mountain
it seemed I'd climbed time after time
and, grasping familiar footholds,
once more I began to climb.

Photo Source: Alastair Magnaldo

Thursday, September 26, 2019


Bjorn challenges us to write poems
with creative use of metaphors.
Submitted to dVerse
September 24, 2019

When memories stir with gossamer wings
to transport you back home again
best to leave them in the lingering mists
of the places you have been.

You can’t get an armful of summer breeze
and you can’t unring a bell
None can capture yesterday
and perhaps that’s just as well.

Feast from the tree of lessons learned
but keep your eye upon tomorrow
Gather happy moments as hidden gems
avoid the torn fabric of sorrow.  


Tuesday, September 24, 2019


This is one of my first visits to
The Sunday Muse where the
challenge is to write a poem or
short vignette using the picture
provided for inspiration.
Submitted to The Sunday Muse
September 24,  2019

The old man can’t play
and the bird can’t sing
they commiserate on what used to be
when the old man was young
and the bird soared free
and the world seemed theirs for the taking
they speak of roads not explored
and flights not taken
and how quick the passage of time
how trying to get it all back again
is useless, like catching the wind
and they’re left, an odd pair,
to consider what might have been.