thank you!

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~ eight years and 1000 “follows” ~


Thank you, dear readers, and WordPress!

smoke a kyoka


frank(ly) i thank ya

not to mess with my tanka

(syllabic rut stuck)

why can’t japanese mora

fit my english euphora?


Frank J. Tassone challenges us to “meet the bar” of tanka/kyoka writing at dVerse poets pub.I had learned strict syllabic writing of these forms so was surprised by Frank’s notes:

“Now, a brief word on tanka/kyoka and syllabic writing. Beginners are often taught that both tanka and kyoka need to be written in no more than 31 syllables, usually broken up into a 5-7-5-7-7 pattern.  However, an English syllable is a different linguistic unit from a Japanese mora, and the counts refer to mora, not syllable. If an English-language writer of Japanese forms wants to write accurately, the proper syllable count for a haiku/senryu would be 10-12, and a tanka/kyoka 20-24.”

leaving home


life portals bear import
more than ports of call
they demand deportment

choose to step through
this door to the other side
as it shuts quietly behind

there’s no going back now

the goodbyes and hellos of
these unmasked emotions
express momentous change

leave outgrown past for
future’s fresh opportunities
every end is new beginning




I stare at empty nest as our fourth son is now married and moved out…and Anmol (HA) hosts dVerse poetics with interesting with “portals” prompt.  How fitting!


wedding dress


“The clothing you wear in marriage must come from the closet of God’s grace.”

-Pastor John Lee on Colossians 3:12


“Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved,

clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility,

gentleness and patience.”




photo by lynn


gone to seed


slender, elegant

aged with grace and dignity

wears white hair like crown




photo by lynn


reality check

Time for us to admit that life is not happily ever after.



awaken at night

moon illumines tree branches

teacup half empty



image by Michael Schwartz




a time for lament


spirits sag sluggish

our attitudes apathetic

people lie dying but we

are numbed by numbers

so we adjust our masks

try to control catastrophe

normalize the abnormal

turn off doom of news

cannot shut out reality

of one’s own mortality

seems life is too short to

realize all our dreams

of apocalyptic nightmare

social events cancel

celebrations zoom in

at least we can distract

ourselves with technology:

mind games of (anti)social

media, victims of porn

big bureaucracy grows

as the economy slows

churches shut down

yet abortion services

considered essential

we truly are sick





seeking solitude

I never found a companion that was so companionable as solitude.

-David Henry Thoreau


when being alone
doesn’t seem lonely
but a companionable
inner retreat, making
space for the soul.

find quietude within,
aware of own breath.
listen to music of the
wind and water, hear
time self-expanding

rest hurried mind
de-stress taut body
take time to imagine
core life possibilities,
reconsider priorities.

renewal of creative
in scent of rainwater
dew on emerald leaf;
barefoot in grass, sun
caresses shoulders.

posture of prayer
sitting in silence;
listen for God’s still
small voice speaking
truth to deepest heart.



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Bjorn invites us to explore some solitude and then link with dVerse poets

i did!

Lillian invites us to lighten up and get a bit silly at dVerse poets’ pub tonight 🙂


did you ever leave cell phone behind,
family must ring your number to find?

did you ever blow gum bubble in space,
stretch it bigger till it burst in your face?

did you ever play three gruff goats billy,
game with granddaughters giggling silly?



“Grandma” by Ruth

master basho

Frank Tassone invites us to write haibuns on Basho/Shakespeare at dVerse Poets.


Matsuo Basho lived simply and walked lightly on the island of Japan. His tiny home was in the village of Edo. One spring day, Basho felt restless and decided to travel by foot across the country. He went in search of cherry blossoms. For his journey, Basho wore a paper hat, black robe, and woven grass sandals. He carried his ink stone and writing paper wrapped in a cloth.

He followed the winding river, sat in a cool waterfall cave, and visited a thousand-yr.-old twin pine. Eventually, he came to an orchard of blossoming cherry trees! A farmer loaned him a horse to ride through a vast, grassy field. He took baths in hot springs and swam in the sea. He ate whatever he found or was given along the way: vegetables, wild rice, noodles, fish.

In the mountains, Basho joined friends for a full moon party. Drinking tea and rice wine, they composed poems together about the night sky. Basho often stopped in his travels to quietly listen and observe. He watched the fog, heard grasshoppers, touched an iris, and tasted rain. Focusing on the moment made Matsuo a haiku master.


do not bash basho


wikipedia image

named himself “banana tree”

writer of frog pond











Information on Basho’s life taken from a lovely children’s book, Grass Sandals, by Dawnine Spivak with beautiful illustrations by Demi.


personal notes on psalm 121


I lift up my eyes to the hills– where does my help come from?

I look up… is there anyone who can help me?


My help comes from the LORD, the Maker of heaven and earth.

My Creator sees me; He knows, he cares, he will rescue me!


He will not let your foot slip– he who watches over you will not slumber;

God is always awake and watching over my path.


indeed, he who watches over Israel will neither slumber nor sleep.

He is on duty 24/7; guarding and watching over his people.


The LORD watches over you– the LORD is your shade at your right hand;

I can take comfort in the shade of his protection; he’s got me!


the sun will not harm you by day, nor the moon by night.

Natural threats (pandemic) and disasters will not harm me ultimately.


The LORD will keep you from all harm– he will watch over your life;

My life is hidden in God; I belong to him and he keeps me safe.


the LORD will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore.

He will be with us through all our life’s journey into eternity.




garden of the gods – photo by lynn






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