Saturday, October 30, 2010


I was taught
Vote is four letter
synonym for care.
Serious responsibility,
to learn issues, needs,
vote values, not self-
interest, vote for the
good of the whole,
people, planet, plans.
Cynicism, discouragement,
persecution do not excuse
failure to escercise my
power to vote.

Friday, October 29, 2010


I conjugate home in past tense,
no TV, no central air or heat,
Piano in corner of big kitchen gets
family voices passing familiar tunes
back and forth, accompanied by
red bird in giant pecan out window.

Home has killer domino game going
on screened in back porch. Glass bottles
of Dr. Pepper chill in shoulder high fridge
Clothesline flaps neat rows of faded towels,
embroidered pillow case samplers, record
of sewing kill. passed down generations.

Home smells of hot beef stew with bay leaf,
cinnamon sugar buchta, peaches off the tree.
Black rotary phone hangs above hall table,
rings maybe once a day. Books in three languages
layer tables, shelves. Typewriter clicks out letters.
I have WiFI now, AC, TV, hybrid car, drier,
but I still conjugate "home" in past tense.

Monday, October 25, 2010

Oz prompt

Prompt is to write from some viewpoint in the Wizard of Oz. I speak for the field of poppies.


We sing you home on chaos wind.
Come now and lay your heavy head
soft in our dream-billowed bed.

Fools, you follow, and pretend
yellow brick road is no dead end.
Too short the night, too long day,

Our scent is heavy, rich and sweet.
Forget and drift in silken sleep.
Home is lost and hope dies deep.

Wednesday, October 20, 2010



Let me be one
who chooses
love, not ego.
Let me be one
who questions.
Let me be one
who abides.
Let be be one
in balance.
Let me be one
who listens.
Let me be one
who rejoices.
Let me be one
who chooses
love not ego.

Autumn Dread - for Big Tent fall fear prompt

Sun deserts, shadow deepens before supper.
Acorns, feathers, pecans, fall from violet sky
Disquiet rides with waxing gibbous moon.
Mars hangs heavy, red over dry creek bed.
Frogs have gone from pond, fireflies from field.
Sleeping grandson in stroller, Sheltie on leash,
Barred owl in oak, heart in chest cry warning.
Death, life, intuition, hope, truth, illusion, fear
blow in cold from north. Reality flickers when
autumn falls. Bright spring morning lies far behind,
far ahead. Stormy autumn evening, I know nothing
for sure, meet my demons, dance with my dead.
Victoria Hendricks
October 20,2010

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

How To Avoid Betraying

Betrayal is shadow of
trying too hard, self-
delusion, needing too
much to please, hope
against desperate hope.

Antidote to betrayal
is realistic boundaries,
willingness to see
limitations, acceptance
of failure, integrity.

Victoria Hendricks
October 20, 2010

Monday, October 18, 2010


When life catches fire
remember the phoenix
Accept the terror and
mystery of the forge.
There is no statute of
limitations on ressurection.

Victoria Hendricks
October 20,2010

What People Do

People choose
According to training,
values, character,
whatever disasters
opportunities befall,
people choose.

Victoria Hendricks
October 18,2010

Saturday, October 16, 2010

Crossed Up

Each family member stands,
lies, balks, strides forward
at some crucial crossroad.
To hang on or let go, repair
or retreat, apologize or save
face, forgive or stay safe, trust
or protect, surrender or fight on.

I stumble through spaghetti maze,
blinded by whirling paths, stakes
life or death, uneven ground rolls,
fog masks, confuses so I struggle to
remember there is an I, a mine, a self.
I seek wisdon, vision, to penetrate mist
of helpless love and choose my own path.

Victoria Hendricks
September 17, 2010

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

Big Tent Wordle Poem for 10-15-2010


Takes real courage,
not cute denatured pluck
to extract bitter hook of
objectification, impossible
glossy magazine feminitity,
drooping damsel in distress
helplessness. I'm no enchanted
princess, no beautiful sleeping doll
imprisoned in tower atop fantasy's
staircase. I will not passively
await liberation through perfect
paission's magic purple kiss.
I dip my sacred drinking gourd into
muddy waters, quench my own
thirst, drink deeply of the river Life.

Victoria Hendricks
October 12, 2010

Friday, October 8, 2010

Prompt "Place yourself in a car."

Road Trip Paradise

Well pillowed, I chew orange slice candy,
and preside over green quilt pastures,
forget the floorboard. Central hump
becomes hill from which cardboard
cabin commands view of grazing horses.
Front seat parents provide soundtrack.
Daddy whistles background. Mama sings.
Home on the Range. Oh what a Beautiful
Morning. Mares Eat Oats and Does Eat Oats.
I look up, out the window, see Arizona sky
glow with the color I just learned to call azure.
I canter my palomino mare up the hill so
she can see too as we traverse paradise.

Victoria Hendricks
October 8, 2010

Two takes on Contentment

The conversation about contentment here is intriguing. I realize I use the word, and most words about personal state in two very different ways - one is feeling and the other as choice, decision, attitude. So I have two very different contentment poems.

Contentment - The feeling

I lay out bait for contentment.
Candles glow rich bergamot.
by chair full book basket beckons.
Rose quilt offers soft embrace.
Amber beads hung in sun entice.
But contentment is a fickle cat.
she comes only when she wills.

Victoria Hendricks
October 8, 2010

Contentment - The attitude

I have enough.
I do enough.
I am enough.

Victoria Hendricks
October 8, 2010

Thursday, October 7, 2010

Big Tent poem from springboard

The prompt is to use a line from another poet's work as a springboard. I kept trying to use something less familiar, but just kept circling back to "Hope is a thing with feathers."by Emily Dickenson.

Feathered Hope

Hope is a thing with feathers.
I memorized when I was five.
Hope is a thing with feathers.
She lived alone in her garden.
Hope is a thing with feathers.
Maybe she was as lonely as I.
Hope is a thing with feathers.
Words flutter between my eyes.
Hope is a thing with feathers.
Maybe I can fly poems too.
Hope is a thing with feathers.
Hope is a thing with feathers.


I soar on quiet wing,
see through illusion,
call your conscience
to truth - Who you?

You conjure me dark,
death sayer. Night eagle.
I do not fear the dark,
as you do- Who, you?

I fly when others fear,
know moon on still lake,
call out stars and questions.
Who you? Who you?

Victoria Hendricks,
October 7, 2010