Thursday, January 27, 2011


Poets United's "The Thursday Think Tank" prompt is "Fire."

Today is also my husband's and my wedding anniversary. This is my love letter to him.


Fires don't always die; sometimes, they smolder.
Embers glow beneath a cloak of ash.

Sometimes they blaze to red-robed conflagration,
immolate, incinerate -- then sear us to the bone.

Our love, this long-lived flame, is like that.

We have smoldered, we have smoked,
have sparked --and we have burned.

We have carried the red heart of fire in our cupped hands
and fanned the coals to heat the endless night.

We surprise ourselves by burning still,
a steady glow -- eternal flame of testament to love.

Sunday, January 23, 2011


I'm doing what I do when I'm suffering from a block...I play with form. This was originally very different, but when I decided to try writing an unrhymed pantoum, it took quite a turn.

Sorry to miss the Poetry Bus this week, but I'm fresh out of inspiration.


Those words slipped from your lips
like a serpent.
They curled themselves around me
in sinuous caress.

Like a serpent,
they rubbed against me
in sinuous caress.
I am the rough tree bark

they rubbed. Against me,
you shed the truth like skin.
I am the rough tree bark;
you are the fall from grace.

You shed the truth like skin
that holds no living.
You are the fall from grace,
and I never saw it coming.

Like skin that holds no living,
only cold and empty promise,
and I never saw it coming
though the night was ripe with apples.

Only cold and empty promise,
they curled themselves around me.
While the night was ripe with apples,
those words slipped from your lips.

Sunday, January 16, 2011

woman writes, woman rhymes, woman loves

What could be more unpopular than a poem that rhymes? Maybe a poem about happiness? After all, aren't we poetic types supposed to be full of woe? Well, sorry folks, but I just can't manufacture any angst lately. Oh, sure, there are things in my life that are difficult -- things I would change -- but in the end, I am a very happy person.

When I started thinking about the TFE's Poetry Bus challenge this week, to be still and feel what is inside us, I could only think of one line: I have loved and been loved. Have I had hardships? Yes. Loss? Absolutely, heartbreakingly. But through it all, I am blessed to be able to say that I have faith and I have loved and been loved.

For the full Poetry Bus challenge and to read the other (probably non-rhyming, maybe not-so-happy) Poetry Bus riders, go here. It's a talented crew and a rollicking ride!

deep within

a warm wind formed in rain skirts below the windowpane
stirs the curtains skips along the wall

travels gently down the hall skids across the cold stone floor blows in
through an open door to the heart-room of the home

where the woman sits alone works the pen that tells her art
thinks about the singing sound made by choirs of angels' wings

as they gather as they swing through the ether and of weaving at a loom
where the art reflects the heart of the weaver then a thought comes

fully formed from the wind where it was borne:  "Contentment deep within,"
in the poem that she forms in the music that she hears in the blessings

of the years in the people she has known in the love
she has been shown contentment on the wind skirts the curtains

rushes in mixes with her softest sigh weaves itself
into the dye of the fabric of her very happy life

Saturday, January 8, 2011



Gravity pulls me
down, down;

I'm holding fast to the line.

My head is spinning
round, round;

I'm losing track of time.

The jester holds his mask

I'm looking like the fool.

My heart goes tumbling fast

the lord of this misrule.