waiting on gardener


my life is a ripe pumpkin
connected to the earth
growing green from the
hard work of soil where
i put down roots to vine
out from the tender shoot
of youth into fruitful years,
orange and mellow with
graced blessings, full;
yet, intermingled with the


photo by lynn

seeds of good intentions
hidden inside me, ooze
slimy memories strung
with sticky emotions; sin.
i desire to be cleaned up,
hollowed out of my muck
and filled with radiant light;
though the carving might
be painful, i will wear a
genuine smile on my face,
aglow with true wisdom.






Linking to Bjorn’s metaphor challenge at dVerse Poets’ pub: “Meeting the Bar”.  My poem’s theme inspired by children’s book: The Pumpkin Patch Parable by Liz Curtis Higgs.

kafka for kids?

“I do not see the world at all; I invent it.” from The Diaries of Franz Kafka, 1910-1923. Link to dVerse poetics hosted by Amaya this week.

Beware the yellow school bus
with cheery windows bright
it threatens to take all of us
and re-educate us right!

Leave your mama & your papa
watch your family disappear
bureaucracy will dictate how
we spend each school year

Bullies learn from Darwin
it’s survival of the fittest
teachers hear from Kinsey
pedophiles are hippest

Identity is how you feel
(forget biology)
kick God out, he isn’t real
(fascist philosophy)

Unicorns and mermaids
rewrite history after all
fluff mis-education may
result in Humpty’s fall

Everyone’s a victim
disenchantment is the rule
let’s politicize the system
then send adults to school!



Egg GIF by Chris Timmons - Find & Share on GIPHY

seasonal palette

Carpe Diem is on a quest for a masterpiece haiku at the start of autumn…


master Artist paints
tips of sumac scarlet red;
hints of autumn change




celebrate a life

he lost second wife
and i, two mothers;
bonded by love’s genes,
shared grief, shed tears.

dad called me to say,
“our twin towers have
fallen;” nine tremulous
months after 9-1-01.

first night in hospice,
last on earth, she reached
up to hug my brother’s
strong neck…her only son.

i’ve dreamed of mom
standing in the kitchen
smiling; she said to me,
“you’re going to be okay.”

dear mom, we bless,
honor and remember
you again today on your
(missed) 83rd birthday.

we revisit our sorrow
even as you celebrate
joyful life in his presence,
who claimed you as his own!


clerestory pilgrimage


monarch butterflies

floating stained glass windows

reflect light’s glory

delicate creatures on winged

migration to paradise



Getty Images


“Tonight, I want you to write a poem of anticipation. Maybe you’re hoping for something wonderful, maybe you’re afraid of retribution, maybe you’re just desperate to get off the bus.” – Sarah hosting at dVerse Poets pub


oh, sweet anticipation
we grandparents-to-be
(again, yes…times ten!)
phone rings, son calling
does he have news? no
he’s coming over and
do i have meal for him?
while he sits at our table
his wife calls him, news?
contractions begun? not
yet, not even warm-ups
grandma must breathe
slowly, deeply, let all
tension exhale, relax
check calendar days
due date comes…goes




reformation needed


desperate pilgrims

risked medieval roads and thieves

hoping to be saved

worst thief was catholic church

selling salvation for gold



Canterbury Tales




Not sure if church commentary is appropriate for a tanka but the true church of Christ should always be re-forming ourselves according to scripture.

mine walks fine line

sanity’s measured continuum
continue to march to drum
did you know alpacas hum?
hum to yourself like alpacas doIMG_1603
they won’t bite, but will you?
if howl growl, put me in “zoo”
write bright fantastical poetry
under plastical poet’s tree, see?
inflated palm lights-up for free
this blog written by “mad hatter”
a pinch of craziness won’t matter
just stir into my pancake batter
flapjacks flip, overturn life’s game
healthy dis-ease is recovery’s aim
let go of stigma and false shame!

(give freudian therapy all the blame)




Poeming with Laura at dVerse about mental health. I admire my family members who’ve lived bravely through mental illness to recovery. NAMI is a national organization in the U.S.that offers resources and support!

nowaki (windstorm)






windstorm passes through

time to pick up sticks again

branches down in grove

price paid for shaded farmstead

how nature attacks her own!


Mish at dVerse Poetics inspires us with the lovely art of Beverly Dyer…and today I did paint one wall of our living room “purple suede”!


paint a purple wall
pluck a purple plume
pick a purple wildflower
play a purple tune

write a purple poem
wear a purple dress
climb a purple mountain
make a purple mess

eat a purple plum
fly a purple kite
plant a purple garden
dream a purple night

tired of my purple riot?
let’s do violet!



Purple Wildflower by Beverly Dyer

celebrate labor day

My greatest labor was bringing each of my boys into the world and working with them as a mother at home. What shared joy to participate in the creation of new life! What secret thrill to feel the first delicate flutterings inside my womb! What amazing privilege to bear a developing human for forty (plus) weeks, alive and kicking! What relief to finally have him delivered safely into the world!

To carry and birth a child is only the beginning of a mother’s labor of love. It will take everything she’s got, and demand much of what she doesn’t yet have, to nurture this needy little one, to protect the toddler, to train a child, to counsel that teenager and raise him/her to capable adulthood. Thankfully, a mother doesn’t labor alone but often the nesting and nurturing details naturally depend on her.

I’ve worked in hospital dietary service, taught kindergarten students and art classes,  balanced farm accounts, fed & bedded livestock, drove tractor, mowed lawn, grown a garden, cooked meals and tutored adults in English. But I’m most gratified by the blessing of raising and home-educating our five sons. To serve my family has been, and still is (with the next generation) my high calling…and the hardest job I’ll ever love.


due on labor day

you were born ten days later

now your baby waits!



Frank invites us to write about “labor” for Labor Day and link to dVerse Poets pub. My husband and I await the birth of another grandchild this month as our middle son is expecting his third child…a daughter!

sea of tranquility

Lillian at dVerse invites us to write a quadrille (44-word poem) on the most beautiful word in our language: tranquility


adirondacks sit on
porch of beach house
surf flows in, lightly froths
foam over fine sand…
sucked back to sea,
leaving castaway shells.
seagulls perch on pier…
launch upward in lazy arcs
where white clouds float,
billow, accumulate into
tranquil dreams…
of sunny tomorrow.




photo by lynn

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