Written with the prompts: springtime, accepting limits but pushing for more, wonder about the ivy, there is always a little girl standing in the corner just staring, Maddie in the grip Maddie is in the grip of a good story, her pale face illuminated by the blue light of her Kindle. It is winter inside … Continue reading In The Grip
Written with my Thursday night group with the prompts: Evelyn was three years older, bingo, when the killing began, felt kinda sorry for her, dance with your eyes closed, brown shoes “Did you know,” Evelyn began, “there was an error in the Grimm Brothers translation? They weren’t glass slippers,” she declared with a heavy emphasis … Continue reading Fur Slippers
On December 7th, 1941, my mother was at her friend Louise’s house. They were picking the first oranges of the season when Louise’s mother came out to the yard to tell them the news that the Japanese had bombed Pearl Harbor. Every year after, my mother commemorated the date by picking, and then eating, the … Continue reading My Mother’s Orange Tree
I pray and affirm that the people of our country are compassionate and kind. We believe in fairness, democracy, and freedom for all. We are willing to work hard to create a community where all are welcome, safe, financially secure, and valued for their unique gifts and perspectives. I celebrate my home today, and look … Continue reading Happy Fourth of July!
Written with my Thursday night writing group with the prompts: empty journal, her lips tasted like wine, no one ever noticed her, she was just there, 16 years gone to hell, I have good memories of that house, there’s nothing quite like, until the sun smiles, write me a litter and tell me about It, complicated … Continue reading In the Wine Garden
Another original poem for National Poetry Month! This week's offering is a tale of my California childhood, back when the rain was plentiful enough that we'd often watch the winter river rising against the side of the levee. Life on the Flood Plain Nestled in the south elbow of the levee we are sheltered … Continue reading Life on the Flood Plain
April is National Poetry Month! I've dug down deep for this one, written for my Mom at least 30 years ago when she was the age that I am now. For My Mother and Other Collectors of Strays I want you to contradict me. When I shiver in my cavernous apartment complaining that autumn … Continue reading For My Mother and Other Collectors of Strays
I think I can say without fear of contradiction that this has been a weird year. And hey!--suddenly, it's Easter again. It feels rather surreal. Like many people, I have done very little to celebrate holidays during the pandemic. That's okay; I'm all for downsizing the fuss and nonsense and commercialization. Truth be told, I … Continue reading Easter Greetings/Pandemic Edition
i Blades not sharp or brutal but tender and yielding to the weight of my bare feet sprout on this thin layer of soil that hugs the Donegal coast. I grasp a clump of green shoots in my fist: does that make it mine or does it belong to a middle-aged man with a piece … Continue reading Immigrant
Alive in the Moment Written with my Thursday night group with the prompts: urge to be alive in the moment, sound of waves lapping around the house, whipping like an energetic tornado, longing for a perfect moment to move you, manage, strolling, pollen, cheat, skins, lines, big giant plane, tired of hearing Dad’s stories, Tower of … Continue reading Alive in the Moment
