Thursday, January 30, 2020

Attempted Alliteration

It’s Meet the Bar at dVerse, and
Bjorn challenges us to try using
different types of consonance and
assonance in our poem. 
Submitted to dVerse
January 30, 2020
surprised, I spied
a freewheeling fairy
gracefully gamboling today
eloquently enchanting
and adeptly agile
softly slipping away...
a nascent nymph
on a mystery mission

Wednesday, January 29, 2020


At Weekly Scribblings Rommy has
asked us to think about the phrase “You can’t
teach an old dog new tricks”.  A humorous
story comes to mind.
Submitted to Poets and Storytellers United
January 29, 2020

My friends and I planned a pleasant afternoon of bridge.  All in our senior years, we nonetheless were proud owners of recently acquired cell phones.  Technology wasn’t going to pass us by!  None of us were yet familiar with the musical tones we’d chosen for incoming calls. Our phones tucked safely in our purses, our bridge game progressed when we heard music. “Is that your phone?” I asked Charlotte, and in turn we each around the table delved into our purses to check our phones……until someone looked out the window to see the Good Humor ice cream truck cruising down the street playing it‘s tinkly little tune to attract customers!   After having a good laugh at ourselves we resumed the game, someone commenting about teaching old dogs new tricks.

I can’t speak for my friends, but my personal telephone experience began with an old-fashioned wall crank phone.  Our “ring” on the party line was a long and two shorts. One long ring connected us to “Central” at her switchboard in the little telephone office in a nearby town, and she could connect us to parties on other lines.  One very long ring meant everyone on the party line should pick up to receive community news….a bit of a quantum leap to cell phones.   Ah, so many old dogs, so many new tricks!

Sunday, January 26, 2020


Writer’s Pantry #4  and the message
is to lighten up a bit.  Sounds good
to me, Magaly.  All the heavy gets…
well….heavy from time to time.
Here’s a light-hearted Sunday afternoon
perspective, with a bit of a barb.
Submitted to Poets & Storytellers United
January 26, 2020

I’ve studied the Fibonacci
Been to the springs of Weekiwachee
And marveled at all in between.
I’ve pondered many a conundrum
Puzzled enigmas that I found humdrum
And  opined things I wish I’d seen
I’ve experienced some of life’s ecstasies
Indulged in innumerable fantasies
And enjoyed the glorious ride
But he who’s in the highest seat
Bombarding us with scathing tweet
Is something I just can’t abide.

Saturday, January 25, 2020


Sunday Muse offers us an oasis
in the desert.  I’m getting ready to
move, and the photo seemed a bit
prophetic.  For reasons unknown,
this irreverent ditty came to mind.
Submitted to the Sunday Muse
January 25, 2020

an author I read long ago said
“Image your way to success”
the girl decided to try it out
and it worked for her, more or less

whatever she did, she undertook
to give it her very best
picturing herself successful
until she was, I guess

I haven’t seen her lately
apparently she imaged away
to the land of sunshine and happy
….at least that’s what they say.

and then there was that other girl
who always expected the worst
when it came to imaging
she got the roles reversed

“I’d probably end up some awful place”
she said, “heaven forbid”
she imaged herself in that dreadful place
and that’s where she ended … she did.

Wednesday, January 22, 2020


Weekly Scribblings at Poets and Storytellers
have given us Salt Water Tales for our
topic this week.  I’m always enchanted with
underwater mysteries, hence my salt water
rhyme. The art is my own digital fantasy.
Submitted to Poets and Storytellers
January 22, 2020

Lazy waves sparkle with sunbeams
Making easy way to shore
But beneath are deep, dark secrets
Enigmas forevermore.

Civilizations and pirate ships
Lie beneath waters blue
While tourists sunbathing on shore
Haven’t the least of a clue

The good ship Mary Celeste
Set sail in eighteen seventy two
And never were seen again
The captain, his family and crew.

And what of Flight 19
The Air Force flight of five
Who flew out on routine mission
And were nevermore seen alive.

I love the gentle sound
As waves make their way to land
They whisper to me of their mysteries
While I’m landlocked safe on sand.

Tuesday, January 21, 2020


Our challenge at Tuesday Poetics
is to write a poem, any style, about
Secrets.  Thanks, Merril for a fun
prompt! Every family has its
Submitted to dVerse
January 21, 2020

Like fireflies,
seen for a moment,
then disappearing
into the night.

So are secrets
that seem life-changing,
fading into the mists of time,
only a blip
in the great, grand
scheme of things.

One day
they will never
be known.
They are, after all.


At dVerse, Frank challenges us to create
prosery of no more than 144 words, to
include a line from a Maya Angelou poem ...
"The Rock cries out to us today
You may stand on me, but do not hide
your face".   After the style of
Wallace Stevens, I consider rocks.
Submitted to dVerse
January 20, 2020

Ancient Phonician  landmark
Pillar of Hercules
Rock of Gibralter

Aboriginal sacred site
Uluru, red behemoth
In Australia's Outback

Giant head on Easter Island
standing silently in mystery
through the centuries

Endless task of Sisyphus
pushed onto the hilltop
falling again to valley floor

Kissed by many
Stone of Blarney
famous bit of Irish lore

Beside the shore at Plymouth
welcome sight to Pilgrims
arriving to new land

Imposing Devil's Tower
thrusting upward
from Wyoming's vast expanse

Signature Rock on westward trail
where steadfast pioneers
left their marks for history

Rosetta stone
that cracked the code
of Egypt's ancient hieroglyphs

Rushmore's rock of faces
countenances of history
worn smooth by wind and rain

Part of Stonehenge Circle
holding fast the secrets
of ancient druids

Haystack Rock of Oregon
legacy of ancient lava
standing sentinel on ocean shore

Faithful voices raised in chorus
"On Christ, the solid rock, I stand
all other ground is sinking sand"

Words of poet echo still
"The Rock cries out to us today,
You may stand upon me
But do not hide your face"

Sunday, January 19, 2020


Poets United has morphed into
Poets and Storytellers, thanks to
the efforts of Rosemary Nissen-Wade
and Megaly Guerrero.  Today, for
Writers Pantry #3, I offer a snippet
on marriage.
Submitted to Poets and Storytellers
January 10,  2020

It had always been there, the moustache, from the day she first met him in the parking lot of the apartment building where she’d just moved.  So dapper, with the touch of gray at his temples and the pencil-thin, carefully trimmed moustache.  She was immediately enamored.  Soon they were dating, and in seven short months they were married.   Life proceeded at a rapid pace, and now they were in a new home with two children.

One day she suddenly wondered just what he’d look like without his moustache.  And so, she began her campaign to encourage him to shave it off.  He was resistant for some time, but eventually, in the habit of all husbands seeking relief from a determined wife, one day he divested himself of that bit of hirsute magic that had attracted her in the first place.

He appeared at the breakfast table, a stranger with a naked upper lip.  Oh sure, the distinguished gray was still at the temples, but something important was missing.   She placed before him, as she had done every day for five years, two eggs sunny side up, toast and crisp bacon.   She poured his coffee and quietly remarked, “Thank you, dear.  You can grow it back now.”

Friday, January 17, 2020


Frank has asked us to Meet at the Bar
and consider the act of soliloquy at
DVerse.  Since I am in the throes of
relocating, I’m spending a lot of time in
soliloquy as I sort and pack. 
Submitted to dVerse
January 10, 2020

Sorting out the yesterdays
To make room for tomorrow
Packing up the joys
Leaving all the sorrow

Scattered photographs and memories
Like mismatched sox
How do you gather memories
And put them in a box.

Life is lived in chapters
Battles fought and lessons learned
Along the way a life well lived
As onward  pages turned

Now this, the final chapter
With moments yet to text
May it be long and joyful
Followed by what comes next!

Wednesday, January 15, 2020


Mish presents an interesting challenge for
Poetics today at dVerse.  Reach for a book
at hand, read the last one or two lines, and
let them be your muse. Below is my line
and source:
“Quite soon it was only a speck that vanished in the distance”

Out Of The Deeps by John Wyndham

Submitted to dVerse
January 8, 2020

Each night, as soon as my head hits the pillow, worries come marching one by one.  Larger than life, each seems insurmountable and takes its place beside others of equal enormity, until they form a chorus of what ifs and how tos accompanied by crashing cymbals of I can’t, I won’r, and I didn’t.  A swirling miasma of unknown calamities overtakes me, like a non-swimmer in deep water.  A wise man once accused me of  pole vaulting over mouse droppings and advised me “Consider if it will be a worry next year at this time”.  Wise advice, easier said than done; but words I repeat to myself as I consider each worry.  If I’m able to apply the theory, quite soon each is only a speck vanished in the distance.  Oh joy!  What freedom.  Zzzzzzzzz

sleep is slow to come
worry worry go away
you'll be gone one future day

Monday, January 13, 2020


Quadrille Monday at dVerse
The key word is ROAR, and
we're limited to 44 words. I used
to have a mighty roar, but it seems
greatly reduced of late.
Submitted to dVerse
January 14, 2020

My ROAR has become a whimper
My energy is spent
I’m left cowering in a corner
Wondering where it went   
I’m moving!  Oh heaven help me
I am finding the going rough
Lost in the ROARefied dilemma of

Thursday, January 9, 2020


Open Link #257 at dVerse
When suddenly our cyber connections
fail to take us to the magic land of
"the net" chaos reigns supreme.
Here are my thoughts about that.
Submitted to dVerse Open Link
January 9, 2020

The day was dark as any could get
We couldn’t get onto the internet
Our iPad, laptop, HP and Uverse
Were all beset by a dreadful curse.
Nothing to do but sit and doodle,
Hopelessly lost without benefit of Google
We’re pitiful orphans that fate forsook
Unable to access our friends on Facebook
We just keep mumbling, “what to do, what to do”
We know we have e-mail, but it’s all on Yahoo.
We just stare blankly, saying “why, oh why”
Deep in despair without our wi-fi.
If we survive ‘til tomorrow, my son, his wife and me
We look to a hero from AT |&T
Hopefully he’ll see our plight is quite tragic
And work some wonderful, mysterious magic.
We await his arrival with anticipation
Expecting an end to this cyber isolation,
And this feeling we have that minute by minute
The world’s going on, and we’re not in it!

Tuesday, January 7, 2020


At dVerse, Sarah has asked us to
write a poem inspired by the elements.
Here’s my tongue-in-cheek response.
Submitted to dVerse
January 7, 2020

Hydrogen, helium, lithium and sulfur
went out for a walk one day
and on their way they encountered
copper, gallium and zinc

followed in close succession
by arsenic, krypton and rubidium
it’s said they nodded as they passed by
quite compatibly,  I think

What marks this passage, you ask
which is seemingly incidental
and I reply, as you might expect
it’s purely elemental. 

Monday, January 6, 2020


Haibun Monday at dVerse, and we're
challenged to write a haibun on "beginning… again"
I am reminded of a childhood song we used
to sing on the school bus ...
"I knew a man named Michael Finnegan
He grew whiskers on his chin again
Along came a wind and blew them in again
Poor old Michael Finnegan begin again"….and it
would be repeated endlessly!
Presented to dVerse
January 6, 2020

It has been a winter of sorrows and farewells.  It’s
difficult to think of beginnings when reeling
from three funerals and the overwhelming feeling
that the pieces of my life are falling away. Yet each
day brings a beginning…granted a beginning of life altered
by loss of familiar voices and dear faces, but a beginning
to prepare for move into a new home in Spring, the
joy of watching the lives of youngsters in the family
as their lives unfold,  and the blessed assurance that
Spring will come again. 

bleakness of winter
a time to anticipate
Spring’s new beginning