Thursday, October 29, 2015

Rainy October Night

Wind shakes windows, roars and
croaks against illusions of protection.
Walls resist intrusion, push banging back.
Water pounds roof, knocking insistenly
reminding me death will knock too soon.

posted for  Poets United Poetry Pantry 

Wednesday, October 28, 2015


Writer breathes soul into characters
creates life from memory and word
orchestrates details, crafts world
until finally characters rise up real 
to make the story their own.  

This is written for Poets United Midweek Motif.  The theme is "Animation."

Tuesday, October 27, 2015

I am dry in my house, this rainy night
but cannot settle to sleep. He haunts me.
Can you spare a dollar?  he asked
and I could, I did.  That was all I did,
placed  crisp dollar in shaking hand,
got back into warm car, laughed with
grandson, ate a Rollo, wound my yarn. 
And the man sat in the rain behind Savers
with his crutches and his cast and the
sense of death surrounding him.  I gave

him a dollar, left him there.  He haunts me.

Monday, October 26, 2015

October Blur 

October blurs the edges
Primary colors fade to
subtle, nuanced shades.
Round pumpkins, spiral
gourds obscure edges.
Sky falls in closer, mist
rises, soft air kisses earth.,
Night eclipses vivid day.
Light surrenders to shadow.
Mystery blurs identities.   
Death orchestrates rebirth
Veil thins.  Spirits sneak in.

Sunday, October 25, 2015

Resuming this blog

That's what I'm doing.  I haven't been posting poems and for some time during a very difficult year I wasn't even writing them.  Now I'm writing again so I want to try posting again.  At least then they will all be in one place.  I'll start with three recent poems about writing, since I haven't been and now I am..

I Write 

I write when I want to sing
when I need to scream
when I wake from dream
when beauty breaks me open.
when sorrow breaks me down
when I have a no answers
to keep my balance, to connect,
to reflect, to shift your perspective,
to shift my own, to be known.

I Don't Write 

I don't write when
I don't want to know
what I think, what 
I feel.  When I don't
notice the moon,
the mood, the earth
under my feet, the sky.
But mostly, beneath
excuses and philosophy
I don't write when I don't.


When I don't write
I stand alone, unknown.
When I write I show 
my face, exchange grace.