Wednesday, October 31, 2018


Midweek Motif at Poets United, and
our challenge is to feature money in
our response.  I’ve chosen to put
money in a Halloween setting.
Submitted to Poets United
October 31, 2018

T’was the devil at my door with eyes obsidian
How dare he intrude on my life quotidian!
It’s my money he wants, I said to myself
Well, I’ll not fall prey to the evil elf.
“Be gone!” said I, “ with your moral turpitude!”
Thinking to send him off with some attitude
“There’s no place”, I said, “for your kind on my street.”
But the devil just smiled and said TRICK OR TREAT!

Tuesday, October 30, 2018


Tuesday Poetics, and Lillian asks that our
Writing be preceded by these three words
“Once upon a …” and we cannot use the
word time.   What an opportunity!
Submitted to dVerse Tuesday Poetics
October 30, 2018

Once upon the castle parapet
Sat the fair Damsel Lillibet
Wondering which knight to kiss, which to spurn
Praying for wisdom of which way to turn
Puzzles and princes, lily pads and frogs
Enigmas, conundrums and pollywogs
Dilemmas encountered for reasons obscure
Such is the life of the Damsel demure


Monday, October 29, 2018


Haibun Monday, and our suggested
topic is Change.  Oh Mercy, how could
I choose, let me count the ways!  There’s not
enough paper for me to cover them all.  What
a fun topic! 
Submitted to dVerse
October 29, 2018
I scarcely know how to begin to recount the changes
I’ve seen!   I remember when water came from a pump
 at the well.  Our vintage Chevy was “straight stick” and
clutch.  A call from nature required a walk to the “outhouse”.
The phone hung on the wall, and it was necessary to crank
the ring of neighbors on our line, or “Central” to connect
us to other lines.  Our “ring” was a long and two shorts,
my aunt’s a short and two longs, and so on.  The only
things that flew over our house were migrating birds.
Service station attendants cleaned the windshield and
pumped the fuel for our car. Our home was heated with
coal stoves, mother’s cook stove was fueled by corn cobs.
No one locked their doors.  You could take a man at his word.
There was no crime,  My life has been a quantum leap to air
travel, credit cards, computer, iPhone, television, surveillance
cameras, automation and electric scooters.  It seems there’s
an “app” for everything, and Amazon can deliver it all. 

My venerable friends and card-playing buddies have mastered
changes along with me.  Recently we were playing cards
when we heard music.  Each in turn, we put down our cards
and reached for our purses and cell phones, but none were ringing.
We sat in puzzlement … until we realized it was the Good Humor
Man, the little ice cream truck that cruised the neighborhoods
playing happy little tunes to attract the children to buy his ice cream!
Change, you say?  We’ve certainly seen a few!
from summer to fall
from an outhouse to a spa
changes are welcome

Thursday, October 18, 2018


Midweek Motif asks us to consider Abundance.
which seems often confused with material things.
Submitted to Poets United October 18, 2018
and also submitted to Poetry Pantry
 October 27, 2018

 In the rush to work, the next appointment
   the golf outing,  exercise at the gym,
the hairdresser, the barber, getting the oil changed
doing the laundry, mowing the lawn
wishing for an abundance we cannot see
to fill the longing we cannot name
while sensory and visual pleasures are all about us
an abundance of gifts left unopened in our headlong race

Glorious sunrise, azure skies, fields of grain
the colors of autumn, misty morning dew
a baby’s chuckle, a mother’s hug
the voice of a friend, the kiss of  a  lover
the comforts of home, the music of birdsong
the patter of raindrops, the joy of  first snow
Awareness of abundance

Tuesday, October 16, 2018


It's Poetics Tuesday, and Mish at dVerse
has asked us to consider beauty in ugly.
I was reminded of a tattered and much-used
and abused teddy bear left behind with childish
things.  Well worn, but somehow beautiful.
The art and the poem are mine.
Submitted to dVerse
October 16, 2018

Wednesday, October 10, 2018


Owl is the word for our Midweek Motif
For some reason Edward Lear's "Owl and
the Pussycat" came to mind, and I had a
bit of fun with it.
Submitted to Poets United
October 10, 2018

The owl and the pussycat, so it’s said
Set sail in a pea green boat
Their travel as told from there to here
Was surely hallucinated by Edward Lear
What wild fantasies were in his head
To think this odd couple should wish to wed
Pussycat is featherless despite all her prowess
And everyone knows the owl is meowless
Nonetheless, they set sail in search of a ring
Which they found on a pig, imagine that thing
From hereon the tale gets even more murky
Seems they were wed on a hill by a turkey
And after a repast of quince and mince
They danced in the sand forthwith and hence
Fur to feather they waltzed by the light of the moon
But alas it all ended quite too soon
The owl discovered his bride couldn’t fly
And pussycat asked herself Why oh Why
They divorced, I heard, on a coral reef
Thankful their adventure was mercifully brief.
They had no band to play, no horn to toot
“Cause an owl can’t meow and a pussycat can’t hoot.

Monday, October 8, 2018


It's quadrille Monday, and De has asked
us lighten up and introduce a bit of levity
in the form of a YUCK.  Since I'm a rhyming
poet, this seemed a bit dangerous (ahem), but
I managed to escape my baser instincts.  Without
further adieu , here's my Yuck.
Submitted to Quadrille #66, dVerse
October 8, 2018

Modern life is nifty. 
Inhibitions are cast aside.
We have what’s called sexual freedom
The selection is vast and wide
Male/female roles are changing
The men must share their cup
Now the women are wearing pants
But they cannot keep them up!


Sunday, October 7, 2018


These are my thoughts on Balance. I missed
getting them posted to Midweek Motif (admittedly
preoccupied with the matter of balance in our
Supreme Court). so here they be, humbly
submitted for your consideration.
Submitted to Poet Pantry #423
October 7, 2018

Seeking balance, I’m a tad atilt, somewhere between
the feisty one I used to be and the little old lady
I’ve come to be; trying to balance the young me,
strong and bold, with the one I see now who’s
just plain old.  I want to be the young me,
witty and classy; but it’s hard to do now
with my aging chassis.   Balance! I cry, but
honest to Pete* it’s darned hard to find balance
given all the words I have to eat.

*An American idiom meaning honestly
or truly.

Tuesday, October 2, 2018


It's Poetic Tuesday at dVerse and we're
asked to write a poem about a smell
that takes us to a place of comfort and
safety.  There are too many to choose!
Here's a reprise of my Six Scents Worth.
Submitted to dVerse
October 2, 2018

In the attic of my mind,  memories
are like dust motes riding sunbeams,
set in motion by scents linked to
sometimes seemingly insignificant
moments in life’s journey.

The subtle scent of lilac takes
me back to the yard gate of my
childhood home, where the
lilac bloomed profusely every
Spring, its sweet fragrance a witness
to my learning to roller skate, and
later to my first kiss.

The delicate scent of new-mown hay,
its sweet smell released by the kiss
 of  prairie sun, conjures memories
of pedaling down country roads
where pheasants nested in the fencerows
and red-winged blackbirds perched  on
fence posts singing their joy to the world.

The pungent scent of coffee brewing
is reminiscent of the battered burbling
percolator on my grandmother’s big cook stove
that sent a wake-up call to all and sundry to
gather at the big round table for country ham,
biscuits and gravy, and a huge platter of
sunny side-up eggs glistening with ham drippings.

The glorious smell of a coming rain
kissing the air with its fragrance before
it makes its way across fields of grain
takes me to mother’s garden, where first drops raise
puffs of dust before they soak into the rich
black soil. nurturing the fruits of mother’s
labor that sustain us through the winter.

The smell of sunshine and sweat is linked
to memories of my father returning from
work in the field, responding to my cry of
“Lift me, Daddy”, swinging me high in
his strong arms, instilling in me a sense of
being loved and special,  the greatest gift of all.

The smell of wood burning carries
me to a cozy room with fireplace in the great
Smoky Mountains, where I hear again
the voices and laughter of dear friends now
gone and awaiting me in the great what
comes after.

Scents are the gossamer golden strands
of our lives that enfold  moments
and people we hold dear, so that we
might savor them time and time again.