Taste this fog,
stir like pea soup;
thick, steamy, heady
moist air presses.
Watercolor of wet
still-life landscape,
paint no background;
grey droplets spatter.
Pickup headlights
float, pierce the misty
curtain as eery shapes
of cow ghosts appear.
sevenling (fantasy)
12 Apr 2016 25 Comments
in sevenling, Uncategorized Tags: diamonds, dust, gold, trees, wealth, wind
if dust were diamonds,
asphalt was gold, and
trees’ leaves paper money,
we’d sneeze on greed
drive over wealth, con~
sider banks quite funny!
fantastical, our discontent would blow away with wind~
Linking to dVerse Poetics with Lillian on “fantasy” theme…
if angels gave birth
03 Apr 2016 Leave a comment
in free verse, Uncategorized Tags: angels, cherub, Elon, granddaughter
if angels gave birth
their offspring would
be cherubic with…
round rosebud cheeks
innocently wise eyes
beguiling half smiles
petal-soft scented skin
miniature untried wings
slippery hot-pink halo
and a kissable bald pate
….almost as perfect
as our granddaughter,
Elon LaShay, loved by God.
death not the final act
16 Mar 2016 23 Comments
We wish our loved ones in our arms could stay
but sovereign God upon the throne he sits.
As long as we have breath, life’s stage we play,
performing to extent of strength and wits.
We take (or miss) our cues by starts and fits;
laugh at ourselves in life’s strange comedy.
Joy of our moment in the spotlight flits;
last curtain calls for death’s dark tragedy.
As lights go dim, the end brings tear to eye;
the pain of letting go stings oh so smart.
Remembering best scenes will make us cry;
lead actor’s lines forever in our heart.
Around me gather when life ends with moan,
when God directs, I’ll rise from vault of stone!
-Dedicated to memory of Lisa Wielenga, taken at age 29. She believed!
Bouts-Rimés (pronounced Boo-ReeMay) is French for “rhymed ends” and is the name given to a rhyming game of poets. I wrote this sonnet using a list of ending words for each line, to be used in order given (more info at: dVerse Poets)
spacious grace
09 Mar 2016 13 Comments
our farmhouse kitchen,
my flavored hub in the
noisy business of life
antique desk, (un)sorted mail
dishwasher hum, recipes, books
lists of vegetables, partial poems
big table, oak with leaves,
stands center stage; set for
family feast and circle of prayer
guests welcomed into our
mess, pull up a sticky chair
where happy grandchild sat
they’ve all gone outside
to play, or work in the sun;
a lull until the next meal.
This poem, linked to dVerse poetics, incorporates a line (italic) from “Burning the Old Year”, a poem by Naoi Shihab Nye.
non-traditional@haiku
07 Mar 2016 Leave a comment
snow melts in birdbath
twitter group splash gone viral
hashtag: spring is here!
round rainbows
25 Feb 2016 Leave a comment
in haiku, Uncategorized
she blows soap bubbles
round rainbow orbs float on air
touch wet colors…pop!
photo credit: en.wikipedia.org
traveler’s tanka
22 Feb 2016 Leave a comment
pilgrim passing through
eternity at road’s fork
choose destination
broad way leads down easy path
disciple climbs narrow stair
time is a friend
09 Feb 2016 Leave a comment
in Uncategorized Tags: farmer, fruit, harvest, seed, time
time ripens good seed
farmer waits ever patient
harvest fruit will come
in need of rescue
06 Feb 2016 23 Comments
in haibun, Uncategorized Tags: rescue, runaway, sex slavery, tears
photo by Gabriella at dVerse; used with permission
Daddy was mean so I run away but had nowhere to go. Met a guy I thought I could trust. Sure, he treated me real special at first. I fell hard…thought he loved me too. Called me “sweet thing” and “babe” and said two of us was all that mattered in the world. Until he started passing me around to his friends for free and then to strangers for money. Decent money too but he keeps most of it. Now he’s taking me to the big city. I don’t wanna go but he squeezes my arm so tight at every bus stop…to keep me from running again. Doesn’t anybody see my tears?
i’ve nowhere to go
sky cries tears down bus windows
can’t wash my shame’s pain
Thinking of young victims of sex slavery and linking with haibun challenge at dVerse Poets
january 22nd
25 Jan 2016 7 Comments
we
light
a candle
another year
asking for mercy
a prayer walk for life
silent memorial for unborn
53 million taken before their time
ripped or salted from mothers’ wombs
medical professionals under hippocratic oath
who profit from selling spare body parts
hearts grow cold as a january night
boots tramp uncleared sidewalk
while 53 million snowflakes
sparkle as tiny diamonds
under a misty moon
frozen tears
of love
lost
a poem in my pocket 
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