still life


exploring attic

reclaim grandma’s old dresser

drawers of mementos

from her youthful adventures

lily of valley bouquet



shy century


hoped to celebrate

grandma’s one hundredth birthday

but she passed away…

left us behind with no cake

she’s partying in heaven!



Elsie’s 100th tanka challenge at Ramblings of a Writer. My dear Grandma Gertie nearly reached 100 years…can you imagine living for a century?

lil’ lincoln logger


energetic blond boy invades our home
it’s so much fun the second time around
he dumps out all the legos on the floor
then drives his toy backhoe across the couch
he brings grandma another book to read
next climbs in grandpa’s lap to eat popcorn
his uncles he adores; follows footsteps
pulls on his boots (wrong feet) to go outdoors
he likes to chase the cats or moo at cows
he’s happy when he’s playing in the dirt
by day’s end we’re all ready for our beds
he reaches out to hug our necks goodnight!



*”blank verse” (no rhyme) written in iambic pentameter (see MTB with Tony at d’Verse)


don’t ask the color of my hair


I think I must be younger than I am;

Still looking for a mirror that’s wrinkle free.

Hey, only special peeps may call me Gram.


I really do not need the “senior discount” plan,

Send back those letters from  A.A.R.P.!

I think I must be younger than I am.


Adults who call me Grandma?  I take it “like a man”

but wonder whether they can count to three!

‘Cuz only special peeps may call me Gram.


Kids fill the house with music; it’s time for us to jam.

Can chaos and commotion inspire poetry?

I think I must be younger than I am.


Blond boy and baby girl, sweetest members of our fam,

Come snuggle in my arms or re-read books across my knee.

Yes, only special peeps may call me Gram.


So many birthday candles? I just cannot understand.

My truest friends are winking because they all agree,

I really must be younger than I am,

And only special peeps may call me Gram!