valentine mine

Artist: Sherry Evaschuk     Artwork Title: Hearts afire


two he(art)s ignite fire

heat waves of desire

old dreams be yearnin’

new memories burnin’

but just lust is lyre (liar)

trust stirs flames higher

real love colors bright

true blue lovers right

veins bleedin’ energy

he(art)s needin’ synergy

married love k(not) hot!

small pleasures


raku-yaki bowl

potter sipping poetry

enjoys tea in hands

welcome showers


the sound of rain smiles

pattering steady on roof

sleep rolls us over

grace crayoned skies


sunrise/sunset shine

beauty at day’s raw edges

colors soothing balm



farm photo – lynn

history tamed wild west


tailings of silver mine…

restored schoolhouse boasts

plank floor, rolled maps, stove.

main street brothels burned,

rusty bank safe deposited

in dry wash,  coal house and

water tank remember trains.

iron fence borders cemetery

atop boot hill,  rock piles

mark graves of ghost town.


Kim hosts quadrille#26 at dVerse Poets…write 44-words, including “ghost”.

ocean of space


Full moon is like white halibut, slipping through nets of fishermen trees.



Inspired by full moon and book, Crossing the Waters, by Leslie Leyland Fields, an Alaskan fisher(wo)man.

In the presence of angels


In the back bedroom of a hospitable home

on sprawling shaded lot in Magnolia, Texas,

lies an adult little girl; disabled but beloved,

dear daughter and sweet sister named Kim.


She’s a redhead, age 52, curled in bed, mute;

a child of God, reflecting his image; like Him,

her eyes always seeing (open even in sleep)

and her ears always hearing (primary sense).


What a privilege to meet Kim, touch her hand

as she rests in sanctuary of clean sheets and

sunny windows; surrounded by hum of vital

equipment, carried gently by sacrificial love.


Holy ministry happens here on a daily basis,

offered by her mother, who dedicates all her

nursing skills, the tenderest days of her life to

care for, love on, feed, turn, and talk to Kimmy.


Dedicated to Kim Feenstra, who lives with her precious family (and a condition called micro-encephalitis).

sterling elocution


A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in pictures of silver. 

Like Solomon, who wrote these words, I find soul satisfaction in beautiful speech.  As a writer, I search for delicious words to be framed in serendipitous syntax.  I hope to pick ripe thoughts, artfully arrange them in woven-word baskets and serve a taste of lingual delights.  I admire skilled poets and appreciate how different poetic brushstrokes reveal textured perspectives; unique angles on life’s truth.  Flighty images of the mind settle to roost in solid words. Sentinel ideas on signposts outline silent spaces for contemplation.  Hand-in-hand, we meander world with senses alert to the wild call of hurricane winds or the fresh whisper of gentle breezes, then collectively record richly scripted delicacies for our hungry souls to feast on.

*Proverbs 25:11, BRG

photo by lynn – Galveston beach

happy hour is over

Challenge at Poetics Pub to use drinking words (listed) for a non-drinking activity…

last call for dirty laundry as granny

loaded tumbler for one more round,

tipping a bodacious shot of bleach.

“c’mon, help tie one on the clothesline,”

she says, hanging three sheets to the wind.

then turns sour, seeing hair of the dog on

whites;  kamikaze-like, she yells straight-up

“choose your poison, we gotta rewash ’em!”

sasquatch serenade

dawn breaks camp in ouchita national forest

dark road winds, winds, winds

thru tall pines, pines, pines

fog stretches fingers between wooded hills

low mist finds, finds, finds

story lines, lines, lines

legends of sightings persist near beaver bend

where our minds, minds, minds

notice signs, signs, signs



urban nights



met desert tortoise out of element


On the beach, crawled pet tortoise named Tank

when a wave rolled, his wrinkled neck shrank

hard shell shaped like a boat

four legs paddled to float

that resourceful young tortoise ne’er sank!


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