Whether to Weather  

A poet preserved by their craft

Today’s storm is tomorrow’s draft

Tonight’s darkness, tomorrow’s light

Time alone is time to write


Time without leaves space within

Whether or not we choose to begin

Space’s filled with unchosen weather

That’s why a quill floats like a feather


Writing out the storms, blue sky always brighter

Showers of tears make the heart feel lighter

Rainbows get a page or two, hurricanes get quite a few

And storms better weathered in a blanket shared by two



Unwritten Sonnet

Thoughts of love, humming notes to an unknown song,

I’ve tried to write it down but the words all came out wrong.

It seems when I think of you all other thoughts go astray.

Emotions and desires jumbled, I can find no words to say.


I’ve tried a million times and I’ll try again today,

though time spent together always the better way.

Now pen’s in hand, mindful bliss my heart begins to race,

visions of my fantasy; beauty, elegance and grace.


Reminiscent of cascading falls in the jungles of Belize,

the splash of your wavy hair flowing in a summer breeze.

Where rising suns cannot compare to the glow upon your face,

I’m warmed to my very core; the cold has left no trace.


With eyes as deep and all-consuming as is the vast Pacific,

their depths so never-ending I can find no phrase specific.

Your subtle lips glistening, a silent language spoken,

still or parted, my semaphore, together I wish unbroken.


A brilliance of mind and sharpened wit, a formula to confound

Whilst pure of heart with soulful passions amaze and astound

And when I rest my head to sleep and your image begins to blur,

I envision a ballerina floating through the moonlit air.


Touching down on slippered feet, the foundation of my life,

where I’ll dream again of a poem unwritten – for a lovely wife.



Dreams Dreamers Dream

I dreamt I was sleeping

Or perhaps I was dead

Eyes closed, body still

Silence in my head


I woke to a feeling of Deja-vu

Then all’s forgotten seeing you

Our day of sunshine and frolicking bliss

The moonlight shares our hugs and kiss


Warm in our bed, bodies intertwined

The stars, heavens and our hearts aligned

Then darkness consumes happiness supreme

When morning interrupts my dream of a dream



Giant in a Shawl

A thigh-high recollection,

of the principal’s floral wall.

Coz that’s the view ya get,

when your only three feet tall


I can still hear the chunky heels,

charging down the hall.

She said I stole equipment.

It said it was just a ball.


She dragged me to the office,

then gave my mom a call.

When my mom got there,

I had to tell it all.


I’ve lost a ball or two or more,

hid them in a bathroom stall.

It wasn’t something new,

been doin it since fall.


I’d pick them up after school,

and sell them at the mall.

They sent me out to the bench,

I was feeling very small.


But I couldn’t let the other kids,

see me beg and crawl.

The giant roared, hands flew,

I thought they had a brawl.


Mom came out, we both went home,

and there began the squall.

Thunderous and long-winded,

I couldn’t help but bawl.


Then what happened next,

I really can’t recall.

I gave back all the money,

stayed after school counting balls.


I had to say I’m sorry,

to the giant in the shawl.

So I guess I did remember,

that balls haul after all.


The End



The Gift That Keeps Giving

(rated R)

Ho, Ho, Ho, damn it! That’s all I gotta say

Ho, Ho, Ho, damn it! It’s almost Christmas day

Ho, Ho, Ho, damn it! Yea – Santa’s on his way

Ho, Ho, Ho, damn it! I hope he doesn’t stay


Christmas last year was our first as newlyweds

Our little home smoky with burnt gingerbreads

Rooms festively strewn and splattered with glitter

The kind of memories that’ll be around forever


His reindeer chomped topiary, displayed in my backyard

Now I have to lie and say it’s really avant-garde

Rudolph took a shining to a bright-eyed decoration

Now he’s singing high notes from electrical castration


I also saw Santa smooch my wife under mistletoe

Not a friendly peck but a kiss, deep and slow

I’m ready for him this year, cameras everywhere

I’ll edit-out tomorrow, things I shouldn’t share


My lovely mate now fast asleep, safe in our cozy room

Windows shuttered tight, door wedged with a broom

While plump little Nicki slumbers soundly in her cradle

It’s now time for me to prepare, egg-nog, cups and ladle


Plus a special surprise for Santa, it’s sure to be a hoot

I long to see his rosy cheeks when slapped with a paternity suit

Ho, Ho, Ho, damn it! I’ve one last thing to say

Ho, Ho, Ho to all and have a very merry holiday



A Christmas Tale

Happy Holidays


Chapter 1 ~ the Beginning


All’s quiet this early winter’s night.

Embers fade in the candles dancing light.

I was thinking of Christmas, many years past.

Those fond old memories, now fading fast.


I recalled when our home came alive.

I was just a small girl of about five.

It was a grand old house for mom, dad and me.

Sat perched on a hill overlooking the sea.


It’s still a museum in our little town.

It was built by a General of historic renown.

Shared with his bride Martha, she had a sad life.

The General’s a hero, she a young widowed wife.


We cared for the house and gave the tours.

All year-long we opened our doors.

We welcomed the guest to step back in time.

So come on in and share our rhyme.


I lay awake and tossed and turned.

Thinking of…

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Last Call

Before you take me home tonight, I have but one confession.

I don’t make any money as a writer by profession.

I’ve been working on a novel or two.

I’ve written some poems, quite a few.


Most daily labors bore me; don’t like doing what I’m told.

I’m also a procrastinator, keeps me from getting old.

While any man can give you his body, soul and heart,

I can give you all those things and a life of art.


They can scribble little notes sent with a store-bought rose.

I will pick you wildflowers each with personal prose.

Oh, I can see by your look I’ve said far too much.

But these words will easily stop when our lips touch.


Our eyes can share visions; our books can share a shelf.

Our unpenned paper hearts will create a poetry of self.

I don’t need an answer now, just a maybe and a smile will do.

So when we meet again someday, I may turn a page for you.



Ain’t  Try’n Deny’n

I won’t even try to deny

Truths are seen in your eyes

A blink, wink or a glance to sky

Staring down when feeling shy


The squint when angry, wide open when not

That alluring flutter from the heart

The shedding of tear for fallen friend dear

Or the bright sunny glow when friends are near


I love all their faucets and all I’ve eyed

I love them closed, safe by my side

With mornings gaze lies cannot hide

When loving eyes cannot be denied