in real time

retirement arrived

finally unexpectedly

what does it mean??

too tired / put on new wheels

older & wiser (we can hope)

still too young to die!

(Lord willing)

got some good years ahead

to leave lasting imprint

(or learn at last to listen)

golden & embolden

dance a brave attempt

who cares / what

people think

be the real (old) you / me

restless dreamers

remodel our lives



random acts of poetry

insomnia revisited


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Created on Magnetic Poetry 😀

children of God

(written as “american sentences” of 17 syllables each)


Yes, Paul quoted poetry in his speech at the Areopagus —

As even your own poets have said, “For we are indeed his offspring” *

Athenians made many gods, even built an altar to “unknown god”.

(Ever wonder how people who knew so much, understood so little?)

Man cannot create God; his Spirit moves, unconfined to our image.



*from Cilician poet, Aratus, in Phaenomena, and also Cleanthes, in Hymn to Zeus.

Taken from historical/biblical account in Acts 17:16-31. Beth Moore’s Portraits of Devotion gives fresh insight (sentence #4 is hers).


something to cluck about

TweetSpeak Poetry celebrates April as National Poultry (Poetry) Month!

I think that I will never see a thing as
lovely as a turkey (struttin’ his stuffin’)

Writing poultry means lots of scratching
and requires a bit of gravel in the gizzard.

Why did the chicken cross the road?
She wanted to be poultry in motion.

Fine feathered friends don’t let hens
drive drunk to live poultry slams…

Concerned about April 30th, Poultry in
my Pocket Day? Find a cute chick!


poetry manifesto…or not


memory of menopausal aunt road raging

at unaware defenseless drivers


holy guacamole!  eager tongue reaching

to taste zestfully smooth inspiration


aghastly entangled gordian knot yielding

only to sharpened double-edged entendre


first thoughts bright butterfly winging

free ’til inner editor


crystalline flute trio recital melting

winter slushy to wild refreshing rivulets


jealously tuxedoed orcas screaming

bloody murder at deaf penguins


hysterical moment when ulysses s. granting

amused moose mousse “pre-approval”


…in chocolate denim with shot of espresso, of course.



maybe a little too much “expresso” today…i’m a poet in the larval stage,

misfitting any specific movement, and ambivalent about a manifesto…

i simply write because i’m compelled to by an inner creative urge!