Thursday, December 29, 2011

FF55, 12/30/11 Chess and Checkers

The Whole Shebang
shh- shh shake
the square quilt out

in colors of wind and rain
a year of rush and wait,
a shh-shh shake

lives which tumbled were unexplained -

A time for faith on dotted lines
tense, alert, for a leap of change
and when it came
south flipped north

even blessings were rearranged !

Tuesday, December 27, 2011

Mag 97, 12/27/11 Flare

Image: Bert Stern                                        

On a slab
frozen rigid
too full, too bright.

Buried in laughter,
and cascading glitter,

she waves zealously
at the troops.

Did she survive-
a child asks worried,
or die from lock jaw?

with bombs bursting,
all around inside a nightmare...

Friday, December 23, 2011

FF55, 12/23/11, Noel

Tiny dots of gold
brightened the blue sky,
the North star was
over the stable

I was so proud
to be a Shepard
I hoped one day
to play a wise man.

We sang carols
for our families.
I looked out into
the dark audience

hoping  to find
my Mother or Father,
they never came.

Monday, December 19, 2011

Mag 96, 12/18/11 In the Neighborhood

"...Do you know- how hard it is to make people laugh--?" I wailed...

"It is ridiculous, preposterous! you color me amused ----
even though, I don't want anything to do with you anymore!

"Ana Marie!"

"No-" she waved an arm up at me- "No Naneens !
do you hear me? - no more homework -stories--- meatloaf!"

No more neighborhood Nanny? older sister-protector-defender -?
Now the youngster from long ago was whining.

  The air was a bit stale in the hall, even with
the bare casement window open down the end;
there was still an underlayment of cooking grease
and heating oil-

"...I am glad for you Francis!"   She unfolds her arms
and turns away to unlock her door.
"Now go take a bike out into the park- and
find yourself some boys to play baseball with---"
She bent down to grab her bag of groceries.
" It is fine weather nowadays---GO..."

Friday, December 16, 2011

Flash Fiction 55: 12/16/11: This Morning

I looked over
at a young Christmas Cactus,
in full, glorious December bloom.

Someone I know is separated
from her family just now;
Maybe she would enjoy this little plant.

Yesterday I offered her a time
to join me for baking cookies, next week .
She will be visiting her young son,
for part of Christmas...

Monday, December 12, 2011

Mag 95, 12/12/11

                                                                 image by Mostafa Habibi
Mother earth has stopped him-
He has run and fought
trampled and ignored
her rhythms and laws.
Now his mind and body may strain,
race and fight to free itself.
I could dig him out
now that he is awake;
and perhaps I will soon
when he realizes which way
the tide is flowing.

Thursday, December 8, 2011

Flash Fiction 55: 12/9/11 New Directives

"Going Comic 
with a lighter touch"

Demands I turn from lessons
sketched carefully in pencil
on my drawing board.

After two days
of zooming toward
a horizontal vanishing point, 

"Divert! Abort!"
skid, slide, reverse
along a fast curve-

*Whew* everything rounds out
Cheek, nose, hair
eyes and mouth;
relax into smiles
of an adrenalin surge!


Monday, December 5, 2011

Mag 94 12/4/11 Reminder

                                          Lunch, George Tooker, 1964, Columbus Museum of Art.

"Don't forget to pray" She whispered.
"I won't ever, no-" He bent his head
 briefly squeezing her hand.
  They sat in silence side by side,
she in blue and he in brown, a
brother and sister in from the farmland
of Pennsylvania.
   He pulled a couple of sandwiches
out of his pocket and passed her one.
"Tea ?" She lifted a bag from the floor.
" That would be lovely, thanks."
The thermos provided steamy, dark tea
which she slid over the table to him.
  They ate and drank together until
the loud speaker came on .
" One o'clock train to D.C, arriving on track four."
" Come on Mira, "  He stood and reached for his hat.
" Yes, Lucas I'm coming-" She tucked the remnants
of lunch away and got up to follow him.
It was time for the next leg of their
journey, to meet their younger brothers
remains and bring him back home.

Friday, December 2, 2011

Flash Fiction 55: 12/2/11 Into Africa wild.

A strange tribe
slides from  heaps of shade

brown and black hip hop
 flat piles of rock;
glide from stiff and scrubby brush.

Sniffing over diamonds
lapping melded gold,

roughened clusters under bent bands
of muscle and glorious hide.

No cheetah, no lion,
only leopards watch
a roll of dice;
the fierce and very shy.

Sunday, November 27, 2011

Mag 93 11/27/11 Mystical

Photo: Christine Donnier-Valentin

   Just above my lovely speckled red
One of my new owners spied a living picture as
they were carrying me home.

"Stop Mark! " Anna cried " Do you have your camera?"
" No "He sighed. -And they put me down.
"Look through your pack" She begged.
After that she dragged him by the arm
across the road and pointed up, among the bricks.
"See! An angel to the left in white, playing a violin!
And a taller one to the right- singing with one arm up in the air!"

   Now they are gone, I know not where,
for paint- a camera, or phone?
And here I sit once more, alone...

Monday, November 21, 2011

Mag 92,11/14/11 4 Minute Evolution

The dance was hard
beginning on all fours, to crouching
in silhouette trees,
Stretching to launch stone spears
whole bodies sweeping, for walls of cave painting.
The beginning of we- digging, cutting, crushing,
Straining to raft, onto hauling of sleds 
Assault of mountains,scanning for invaders-
The lunging of a gallop,and sword fights. 
Somersaulting into forwardness of wheels;

cartwheeling to soaring airplanes
the rise of rockets;

When you finish, ending in this pose
you are breathless-
it cannot be held still;
they had to project the photo, behind you on the wall.

Friday, November 18, 2011

Flash Fiction 55: 11/18/11 : It Was Time To Get Up

                                                    Photo by Dorothea Lange      ( Posted for Poetry Jam)

The cupboard was bare
as the ragged edge of her sleeve

some potatoes lay on the hill
tumbled in dry earth.

She knew her two children
were ready for food;

she could feel and hear rumbles of
empty hunger against her shoulders.

Wyatt had gone hunting
maybe squirrel or rabbit

would soon grace the pot.

Monday, November 14, 2011

Mag 91,11/14/11 In a Fog

 You have found yourself here,
alone suddenly.
There were people here a moment ago.
perhaps you recall why you were gathered,
but paramount is- Where did they go ?
am I safe
will they be back,
do I wait here ?

   Do I hear, or sense in any way, company ?
First off I want to remove my shoes. I cannot run in those.
am I too exposed ?
I will take my shoes and one chair
go see if there is shelter anywhere nearby .
A tree, a house, a car-
I may need the chair to climb, sit, or defend myself.
If darkness comes, I may want a fire.
If the sun comes out, I may find a road.
If my memory returns, I may know what it was I was supposed to do-

Friday, November 11, 2011

Flash Fiction 55: 11/10/11 Hemingway Ethers

Drawn somewhere between
Jet and Gulf Stream
we are swooping,
diving off into blue.

A deepening weave
between royal and aqua
Pilar plunges,magnifying
endorsing the wild world.

Who is to say Safari or fish ?
hunger casts off
forsaking even his written words;
slashing bait for flung lines,
this far sighted hunter
was hunted too-

Monday, November 7, 2011

Mag 90,11/8/11

    After doing a rub of the gravestone she got up from her knees.Stretching all her muscles like a cat from top to bottom; she reached down into her knapsack and pulled out the spray for setting charcoal and pastels.
   "Moore" ran through her mind slowly- trickling over her memory like a stream over stones...Was it Margaret Moore ? She wondered and looked all about to see if there was any detail on the family plot .
Ahh- M. Moore with the dates- it could be-
   She finished waving the paper lightly to dry it before rolling it.  Hmmm- The woman who had taught her art class way back when-? She stood staring down at all the grass and leaves.
What had she said - Something on that last visit, about translating art, combining it with writing...and how she was even considering putting it to music, though she knew no notes really; had no training in it....
   "Wow," She surprised herself saying it aloud.Gathering her things,she smiled. Time to start reaching for other connections. Ways to expand.
   She turned in a circle. Like these trees all around, their branches reaching up and out to the sky and one another.

Sunday, November 6, 2011

Sunday160, 11/6/11

Sunday was going to be a turkey processing day-
A morning conference happened,
too many alarming priorities & limited time !
Execution are delayed : two weeks.

Friday, November 4, 2011

Flash Fiction 55: 11/4/11 North by East

Many green and brown leaves
still clung on the trees,
The weather churned
up the coast
blanketing most
in heavy white, wet and ice;
That wasn't nice to
the trees or the wires
most snapped and expired.
Days upon days
people were glazed by
the sun and a haze
of no heat, water or fire!

Friday, October 28, 2011

Flash Fiction 55: 10/28/11,

Black steel bars
spaced to see, grip,
wave, grasp at-
not climb through.

Homeland retreating.
grass and green trees,
red house,farm,town, mountains
diminish into long specks.

Face has two
vertical lines from pressing.
Ears strain for bird calls,
Friends voices,
Church bell, trains hoot. 

Letter, newspaper unfolded
Photographs inked
language sooty
Exile begun.

Monday, October 24, 2011

Mag88, 10/23/11. Divide and Conquer

It was a tangled day-
sideways angles converging
in mirrored streets.

Sitting in growing heat,
The Park picnic
side of the family

was about to come down, in two's,
from our third floor apartment.
Meanwhile Mother would carry

the other half to the roof top.
My sister's Party would remain.
My Birthday was going.

Green grass, shade,
blanket and bait
all folded in the back.

River, rocks and fish
waiting  toe-tappingly,
to be laughed and splashed upon.

Sunday, October 23, 2011

Sunday160, 10/23/11

Sometimes you are in for a shock, nestled in the grass.Or
for: sadness, pummeling down inside.Sometimes it takes circling
for an hour to dig and bury one cat.

Friday, October 21, 2011

Flash Fiction 55: 10/21/11. The Delta Sun

Alden straightened up from signing her name.
Spraying her name in paint was more accurate;
it was tucked up under a darker arch of blue on the hull
of the Ferry boat she was painting.
She was pleased with the matching flash and shine of light
coming up off the water in front of her.                             (55)

    "Halfway there-" She stepped back putting her hands on her hips
to rest a minute.
" Wow -now that is lovely!" Micheal's voice surprised her.
" You'll see her coming that is for sure-" She smiled over her shoulder.
"Yeah you will." He laid his arm across her shoulders and gathered her in.
    A sunrise spread its corded, ropey rays, all the way out over the three tiers
of the boat, rocking on the river ever so slightly in agreement.
" Now for the Moon side-" He grinned down at her.
"You'll have to help me with that."She ribbed him lightly before pulling away.
" I'll help," He nodded " You just have to stick to the Owl and Pussy Cat version
you drew in your plans-" He dodged quickly away from the sweep
of arm he knew was coming at him.

Sunday, October 16, 2011

Mag87, 10/16/11

"Ummm crispy crisp, I've only got eyes for dinner -nothing better than Duck!
I usually have time to carry it home by it's feet, raw- but not tonight;
we have our dress rehearsal for the Mikado ..."

Sunday160, Yesterday:

Four carloads of boxes, bags-overflowing donations
sorted quickly- we sold puzzles, lawn ornaments,balloon
cartoon figures and books-300 dollars for Church oil!

Thursday, October 13, 2011

FF55, for 10/ 14/11 No matter the cost savoring is the ticket!

Sometimes I just HAVE to buy "New" books!
I circled and circled the stacks...Salivating
at least as much over the selection, as the probable
choices. It feeds the fever, fire and the appetite.
Snap! grabbed the first, heard about it on NPR.
Whish, swept up the second -
Favorite famous writer-An unexpected fabulous horse.

Monday, October 10, 2011

Mag 86, 10/9/11 "Remember ? "

Michael Sowa, from *The Little King*

Do you remember being "King for a day" ?
We did that growing up. In the summer our gang used to take turns-
some were good kings,some not so much.
The last time I was King, I proclaimed to my court:
-Find a Cheap Thrill in town, report back to me so maybe we can all do it!
-Go to the library or News stand and read:" A How To"- report back (in case it is valuable.)
-Take a witness with you and get as close to Mr. Harmon's Bull as possible.
-Spy on somebody of interest, for 1/2 hour and report back to the King about it.
-Bring a friend and Try to do something you never have, tell the king( maybe it is worth doing)
-Try eating something you have heard is 'good',tell me about it.
-Find something valuable as a gift and bring it for the King- (that nobody else will think of)
-Do something for someone else and only tell me about it.
-Meet at the Square for a game of  checkers after 4pm.

Sunday, October 9, 2011

Sunday160, Reacqainting.

Have you ever seen,felt
Mr. Eliot's London streets as in Prelude I?
it could launch us toward New York
or Chicago- near Mr.Sandburg's
fog and little cats feet-

Thursday, October 6, 2011

FF55, for 10/ 7/11 Written and rhymed, from the bottom up

Four witches, six itches
high ledge, dragon fledged
cave dwell, deep well
rugged nest, twig fest
pumpkin patch, door latch
trick or treat- how sweet?
Spider web now fed
black cat, how fat
Dark night, fire light
tall trees,who flees
eye pies, half lies
wand crowns, cackle frown
Short flat
tall hat
Owls, yowl-

Sunday, October 2, 2011

Mag 85, 10/2/11

The East river lapped and rose; the sky grew smoggy and vapor began to undulate.
Two steaming coffee mugs lost their handles. The turkey vulture that had encircled
my patch of green all day, landed with a Boom becoming the elephant
that had strangled his handler.I awoke gasping and threw Carl Jung's book hard across the room-

Sunday 160, 10/2/11 "Lament"

My truck, my truck,

a kingdom for a truck-

I wish I could afford something newer

it's 4x4 single cab, 8' bed.

12 plus years old-the rust & rot is terrible!

Friday, September 30, 2011

FF 55: Once upon a real time:

My cousin and I
jumped on our bikes and sped
down a gravelly road
dust flying ,stones skittering ;
we pedaled hard for the Mill.
Dropping our bikes
we climbed and slid on the sawdust pile
towering golden above us.
We fought to reach
carved out caves in the heights!

Sunday, September 25, 2011

Mag 84, 9/25/11 Minions

A crabby little wet crow:  "Watch your step missus-
Ya may slip.'twould be a shame, commin' all the way
out here in your good dress after such an evenin' as you have had!
-an' it may be hard to explain to yer husband how all of it came to be...."

Sunday 160, 9/25/11, Trojan horse

Many soldiers stole into place,
braced their shields from rattling
against swords. Huge spears of wood
started springing up underfoot
as the bumpy ride began.

Poetry Jam, 0/24/11,An old and hidden fascination:

Along the winding, steep trails
of stone or sandy roads he traveled
all the sharp and dusty
scents of  spices 
Marco Polo spread

from his hands and sleeves
to lining, seams of pockets,
even in his saddle bags.
I would be there-

Inside rough leather
watching as jewels and coins fall
to rattle with quill pens
folded clothes,even bright silks!

There must be wrapped food,
cheese and bread
dried meat, even figs in one;

Herbs for healing too
mixed with the aroma
of dry leaves, for tea-

                                                  To dream as I did, of all the things he saw
the people he met and stories he heard ...We read a luscious book in school
about him; and I value that memory more than I can ever say.

Friday, September 23, 2011

Flash Fiction 55: Brother

Longing for when "Good seeing you "
isn't playing soccer or football.
Teach me to walk in a crowd
and be comfortable-            
Not being held at arms length,
or left standing outside a wrought iron gate,
Not watching how many
geographical's happen within your day-
Being at an equal speed,
in orbit around the same sun ...

Monday, September 19, 2011

Mag 83, 9/18/11 The Inevitable

                                          The Snake Charmer, Henri Rousseau, 1907
 If you live among them and encounter them daily
On the way to bathe, fish, gather water-
You may as well charm them and yourself, to pass the time.
If it makes everyone's life more pleasant- why not?
They are heavy, strong and dense.
They can squeeze the life out of you. (Some are even fast and poisonous-)
If it 'takes the time it takes'- for them to investigate and then move on...
It is wise:  To always carry a flute!

Sunday, September 18, 2011

Sunday 160, 9/18/11

We had the transistor radio, its little antenna
bobbing as we nod to the beat. Two of us dancing
up the steps of a bus- hearing Revolution for the first time!

Thursday, September 15, 2011

Flash Fiction 55: 9/16/11

Walking just ahead in soft white cotton
a tall and graceful woman
 hair all swept and tidy;
a woman in no hurry
who is never late.                        
She always has a smile, wave
can stroll into a party
or parade.            
We want confidence
to support and brighten
every hour,
cook any troubles
from work or play-

Monday, September 12, 2011

Mag 82,9/11/11,

                                         *The Revenant*, 1949, Andrew Wyeth

He came on the cabin one day, when he was out with his camera .
Stepped onto bare wooden floor, from the porch.
opened one door off  the empty kitchen- and found the full length mirror.
He was startled by the damage he had done to his left eye-This was how
other people would see him- and it was horrible.
"I must get an eye patch- and soon!"
Then he snapped a picture for sketching purposes; and left.

Sunday, September 11, 2011

Sunday 160, 9/11/11

Ten year remembrance can be a sweater flung forward on the bed
the flat wool, colors arranged to express ones soul
of that moment; and big prayer for the world.

 Off to a big re-opening day at our Church! 
It has been such a long year and a few months,
after zillions of hours work and much generous
effort on so many peoples part and money ...
We are gathering to say "Thank you!"
and Hallelujah-

Friday, September 9, 2011

Flash Fiction 55: Up High on Bumble Bee Street

Hazy and hot enough that
inside your skin matches the air on it.
Two people walking ahead of me
this morning are tall, tan and
slim. They could have been drawn
by sand and pastels-that is how
grainy and soft the weather is.
Their calm easy steps belie
my excitement and anticipation of the beach!

Friday, September 2, 2011

FF 55 : After Watching Early Morning Cartoons:

Emmie grabbed the egg basket
and ran to the barn .
She froze in the aisle.One rabbit cage
was open and only three bunnies were left inside.

She heard some squawking in the loft.
When she got upstairs 5 bunnies
surrounded a hen on a hay bale.
Which came first the chicken or rabbit ?

Sunday, August 28, 2011

Mag80, 8/28/11

He didn't like the haircut at all, didn't like
the men who ran the place with its odd twirly
lights. So he went back and broke up their sign
stuffed it in a bag,pulled up his collar
and snuck away like a thief in the night.

Sunday 160, 8/28/11

Yesterday a chance to celebrate at
a friends wedding! Deep red roses
swaying over green suede shoes;
Smiles and laughter were full
sending off many good wishes

Friday, August 26, 2011

Flash Fiction 55:On the Delta

Recently a child reached out
and left a wide trail of awesome colors
all down her cat-
Renee got a picture of it
and Jasper Percy now graces the wall
up by the desk..     
It started a trend at The Neon Cat
our hangout and eatery now has
all genres of art around our plants!

Monday, August 22, 2011


  "Hey let's go -Get up and go!
Away from here and anything work,
You're playing Hooky!"
   They always came grinning.
A car full of cousins, Ellie and Lizz
and often Camellia.
She kept a picture like this on the mantel at home.
" Be ready for us anytime, those who love to play-"
was scrawled across the back. 
  Usually the four of us ended up on the beach
playing Volleyball, surfing. Or even cruising the boardwalk
down somewhere near Jackson; where there was a Carnival
with rides and games most of the summer.
  It had been a few years since the girls had showed up, but
that horn might still give a double blast in the driveway!

Friday, August 19, 2011

Flash Fiction 55: Whoosh-

Imagine a wide and wonderful heart,
that's roughly the shape of Lake Luna inside its preserve.
A dirt road looped around, coming in from Bent Fork
and exiting onto Wild and Woolly.
The park was perched above the Palisades, which are long, craggy and steep.
They say, Grandma Warren spent quite a bit of time there.

Monday, August 15, 2011

Magpie 78

"Paint, paint, paint-"
So many tools, in so many
holding places...

The smaller brushes trim out
The rollers roll on walls 
of many different rooms.

Way up high on scaffolding
they can change a colored sky,
complete with stucco stars
our sanctuary holds
the many dreams of all-

A man who ashes fell
back into earth, yesterday,
He taught me most of all,
to take a brush of any size
and shape those inner shores.

Sunday, August 7, 2011

Magpie 77

Summer Evening, Edward Hopper, 1947

" I know Marie, it will be hard on us,
for me to be so far away during the week.
But we talked and talked about it
and this is the only we can save the house...
and it won't be that long before my Mother can come
stay and help you out..."

Magpie, 8/7/11


It was like a piece of art, 
 that her Uncle had saved from Granpa's barn . 
It used to ventilate the hay loft
and some of the lower aisle.
Now it was up on Uncle Henry's silo,
   all she could think about was finding 
    a big tall ladder and propping it 

up in the middle; so she could get 
her hands on that rust
before those western winds picked up again.

Friday, August 5, 2011

Flash Fiction 55:From Here to There

A German Shepard leaps
snapping at zooming bugs
Five turkeys cheep a chorus
of distress at dusk.
A lawn mowers sit empty of gas
over grass ground to pulped mats.
Through open windows
a weatherman describes damp heat
In the kitchen hamburger sizzles
with squash from the garden
while dishes clink and the phone rings.

Friday, July 22, 2011

July aboard my dragon fly

Very BUSY month- some too hot to work,
but we did anyway... A visit to the beach for
a few hours one lovely afternoon-
just lounged and a little water
time walking and wading.
I have found a Kayak! however
repairs on the vehicles, may delay it some.
The vegetables are piling up from the garden-
the rabbits are growing and turkeys are too.
The church is slowly being restored  to order.
The Art program we are hoping to launch is
rolling forward...
  So I hope you are all well and happy- the
inspiration meter is filling up and may over flow
later on. Meanwhile enjoy the warm while we have it!

Monday, June 20, 2011

Magpie, 6/20/11

She had always been an amazing psychic.
He had once had an autographed photo
just like this one.When he found this at
a yard sale on Saturday; he had not thought
of her in years. He phoned another good friend
immediately; and was shocked to hear her say
"Sheila just passed away,didn't you see it in the paper?
Her Memorial service is on Wednesday- Please come!!"

Monday, June 13, 2011

Magpie, 6/13/11

They looked around,
no child.
Where had Chyrstal gone ?
Then on the  floor by the back door
Mary found the little shell.
" Beach!" She yelled to her husband
and they were off;
over the gritty wooden deck,
leaping onto soft and shifting sand.
Stumbling up to the firmer pack
Mom shaded her eyes- "There John-"
Sure enough the youngster was crouched
intently plucking at something in the damp
as the waves rolled in.

Saturday, June 11, 2011

Flash fiction 55, 6/10/11

It tapered three stories
into the sky,
once a long time ago
under this spire,
a bell had sung
people toward double doors below.

We do not know when
the bell was gone,
we do not know why
a snake of wind reached down
and toppled just that gray
wood and slate upon this ground

Wednesday, June 8, 2011

Poetry Jam, Lozenge / One Shot Wednesday,

Yes they can -be hidden safely, see ? 
Coming off a sad, sad time- they fit in well with genuine beauty.

Were you up all night listening to the foot steps passing,
did you go to the window like the poem told you to; and watch ?

This morning were you willing to feel the wrenching of regret, again ?
You do still want to push truth away : The procession has gone by!
Did you look them in the eye? That opportunity is over, done.

Apples: may share shape, shine, even color range;
but for flavor Cherries win.
If I were to paint one more fruit, it would be them.

They can surpass sadness
being chewed,
going down the throat
falling toward my heart.

Sunday, June 5, 2011

Sunday 160

Exhaustion looms
a blackening shadow,
after days of sorting
debris and cutting trees
tangled and mangled
by a quarter mile wide tornado.
Our town is rising.

Monday, May 30, 2011

Poetry Jam: Forgetting

Sun into haze-
deepens into finger mist,
seeping from the pines
down onto water.
Snake sidling
widening with breath,
The Kayak
parts it at first
then it deepens into piles and curls up behind.
Rolling forward over the top
paddles, then hair disappear;
soon I can barely
see my hands.
Not only have I forgotten
where I am
I forget
how far it is.

Friday, May 27, 2011

Flash fiction 55, 5/27/11

A hot air balloon may glide
untroubled over colored land
and blue shine water for quite sometime.  
Spectacular you agree,
attempting a slow, graceful descent.  
Then heart pounding,
tense, you peer and pray:
choices you have made
will bring you safely in -
Still it is better you took the ride
rising, trusting- than never did!

Monday, May 23, 2011

Magpie Tale, 5/23/11

She felt quite faint all of a sudden,
all happiness draining away.
She was going to have to excuse herself,
get some fresh air before serving.
A sip of water even-

Wednesday, April 27, 2011

I Have been enjoying:

Several Poetry/ Essay books, by Roger Housden.
"Ten Poems to change your life " 2001 Harmony Books, NY
"Ten poems to change your life again and again" 2007 Harmony Books, NY

If you decide to buy one, be advised they are different!
I took the latter out of the library- and then ended up ordering the first one
from a second hand shop-Dumbly not realizing it was separate collection.
-Now I am glad because I get the pleasure of 20 !

Monday, April 25, 2011

Poetry Bus: EASTER BASH:

Excess Drenching of colored POSSIBILITIES-
landing south, with Family!

Eager for ART, Photo's, Statuary-
anything Spring: in the city of NYC !!!

Addiction to walking, listening, GREED-
of Food and Mood- come along, WITH ME....

Let's GO, Lets GO! my youngster SCREAMS
Tugging Onward, Follow, LEAD-

Easter ,Tulips, Parks AND GREEN
We're OFF, WE'RE OFF -
To find some SCENES!

On the Train and off at last,
CROWDS of People
Bright and FAST...

Talking LOUD-
All Languages not understood-
No matter, no matter

It's All GOOD!

Fashion,BRIGHT, Flowers Bundled
Daylight, Puddles, Weaving to:

a Fabulous Play, On BROADWAY

Famous: Elvis, Carl Perkins
 Jerry Lee Lewis & Johnny Cash!

Songs with Piano, GEETARs,
Cello, BRASS-
All with Drums, to make Us CLAP!

Rompin', Stompin
Million Dollar SPLASH-

'Til Hours later, wandering home,
Finally winding down: TO CRASH...

Monday, April 18, 2011

Poetry Bus, 4/18/11

"...Bursting, exploding, restarting, getting it in gear, waking up"

" Bring, Bring,"

" Spring calling"
" Youth speaking."

" Dowse the fire, come outside!"

" Shrung-     Damper shut.
Brish-   Brish,     - Window's open;

-Here we come! "

Monday, April 11, 2011

Magpie, 4/11/11

Spatterings of  paint,
blood , wine;
with three candles
and a knife
underneath the tablecloth,behind.

Poetry Bus, 4/11/11

I am a crooked line,
the turn and spiral of wool
through fingers, folding onto skeins.
An edge or saturated colors
sailing along a broad horizon
Ink firmly shaping letters 
for expression or signing names
Bold exacting strike of humor
rioting tension by
thunder, rolling on and on.

Friday, April 8, 2011

Flash fiction 55, 4/8/11; "It is only Money"

The teens inside of me
have been Rebelling!
Yelling at the top of their rebel lungs,
about all that I have been shedding!

I do not blame them -not at all-
Let go of beer and other alcohol.
Let go of Horses, cut down on coffee-
Let go of smokes-
-So? We'll bring back horses-

Monday, April 4, 2011

Magpie, 4/4/11

You can pull the drops
though they will not
run forever
you can draw them in
upon each other;
so they are stronger
going forward
where they can do their best
together- quench a thirst ?

Saturday, April 2, 2011

Poetry Bus 4/4/11

The wonderful prompt and picture from Titus the dog,
this week. Then- a choice- from a list of creatures.
and because of their looong twisty, aloft and banded
tails- I was off following a promise of mischief...

Following amusement,
from thin and black
or grey and banded-
a flag aloft
and chittering.

It must be vocal too ?
Ahh Yes- sound and movement
often go together
wether tis a cat, or otter sliding down a bank,
a ring tailed Lemur marching,
or a mongoose hunting Cobra.

The streak walks a very fine line.
Well paced as if
paws were held aloft
in considered suspension-

Then sudden turning
passion  is up a notch:
reddening of an eye
twitch of ear,
or nose.

Funny playful has run
from sunny side
on with hum and rumble;
Does it matter who does the warning?
If it is followed by
a pounce or leap

caught mid air,
mischief has gone on
beyond play
to land in full color wild.

Friday, April 1, 2011

Flash fiction 55, 4/1/11

Nasty, nasty !- reminding us
of "Pop Quiz-"
O.k.G-man, once again
see where this goes...

The only tests I ever did
halfway right, Fridays Spelling Bee
Or, My Times tables!
Seems to me they got sprung
on Monday once or twice-  

Then got tangled up terribly;
Because  you see-it was in conflict
with memorizing of Poetry-
"The Pasture" or The Runaway"
by Robert Frost  
I fought all Sunday to recite.

Sunday, March 27, 2011

Poetry Bus,3/26/11 " What it is not

It is not a fairy tale
or Broadway play.

A "Warmer" clue: It was not just
in Black and White.

Animal, Vegetable, Mineral  ?
Nonexclusive;  all and even more:

Not a tribute to just one person
It was not just about old men or women,

The events were not all fiction.
It wasn't all sad

or set on Easy Street.
It was not my all time favorite,

But possibly second.

Friday, March 25, 2011

Flash fiction 55. In my Yard.

I come home to find
A "push me- pull you-"

Do it behind my back !?
Don't you dare.
Be direct and stand square.
Even if you don't stay long.
You can whisper I don't care.
I can pinch, grab an ear-
yank you, shake you
'til sense rolls down;
clear your head and try again.

Monday, March 21, 2011

Poetry Bus 3/21/11

 The challenge is to go somewhere we have never
been before and write about it.
  Yesterday, I walked a slow cubic path
into the back room of a popular Tavern
for a Surprise Party and Brunch.

I sat with four ladies I had never met.
After introductions,Marta
began by unveiling her tattoos.

Down below the sleeve line
a long horn skull spread out
over her right bicep.

White and red flowers
and vines banded her left arm.
Each had a story and related to someone.

I reflected that tiny, subtle
brown crosses or muted blue dots,
were all I could conceive of
if tattoos were required decor.

Migratory patterns of a life,
a long path,beads of homage
to birds, fish, game I have eaten,
might trail along the edge
of a collar bone.

Tiny symbols of art or poets
might tiptoe single file
etching with a few little beads
along tendons.

They might after long living,
encompass shadow lines
along most of a body.

Friday, March 18, 2011

Flash fiction 55, 3/18/11

Ok, G-Man you got us all going today!
not only hosting but toasting some particular
favorites! Hats off to your launch-

She grabbed her magnifying glass
and several books of maps.
A friend had mentioned America
and "THE Inter-coastal waterway ? "
rushed around her brain.
Panning for gold, and pirates;
 possible adventure always stirred                
her blood.From Houseboats to a canoe-
she gazed down upon the rivers
How far from the panhandle
could she get?   

Saturday, March 12, 2011

Poetry Bus, 3/12/11

Thanks to WATERCATS for stretching brains.
I am not sure I met all the criteria, but I got
 -4 line protest, seven beats, 2+2 end rhymes.

A horse tied to a huge tire
no food, no water, heat like fire
I went home and got some money
went right back, it was not funny-

Tuesday, March 8, 2011

Magpie tale, 3/6-7/11

She wanted the reds,
and shadow and browns.
her brush was thin
she lifted the tip
many times from palette to page;
finally the tiny stem
made it possible to bring
the crinkly flavors
to her plate.

Monday, March 7, 2011

Microfiction Monday, 3/7/11

Susan over at Stony River gave us this photo.

 "This used to sit on his desk. He was:
J.M. Brown to his colleagues.
James Michael to his mother.
Jam to his subordinates at the Railroad."

Saturday, March 5, 2011

Poetry Bus :"Long ago: At the Barn"

We have been asked to describe a dumb drinking experience:

Deep evergreen shade
a warm beer is pulled from behind
the car seat under a shirt
two swigs become four.

Back through  huge sliding red doors
to finish shoveling sawdust
for fourteen stalls
sticky air builds.

Crank the feed room radio
rock and roll twists with handles
of the wheelbarrow
more and more.

At lunch another warm beer
where two swigs become four.
Finally at four
several of us ride out down the road

On one turn a dog sneaks out
launching a silent attack
on a horses back leg;
I fly off breaking my collar bone

with that and my shame
I have to walk home.
After the hospital
By eight o'clock,

two swigs have become four;
and then many more.

Thursday, March 3, 2011

Poetry Bus /2/27-8/11 finished 3/3/11.

TFE found us these pictures, thanks Mr. Emergency Driver !
I managed ten lines on Sunday-could not get the rest to save a life.
Sooo things got deferred, until Thursday: last 4 eggs hatched.

A-peaching we will go, 
  A-peaching we will go,
  HiHo the dairy-o-

Well we tried, see?
to oblige, see-
but the dog went squirrelin'
and the donkey ran off to the brook !

We all had to get down
and drag them both back
up, up the dusty track-    
Then Uncle showed up with the camera
and the dinner bell rang-
Here we are like we started, few peaches rollen'
with baskets, all tumbled and bruised.

Monday, February 28, 2011

Microfiction Monday, 2/28/11

Thanks to Susan over at Stony River,
for a pixie at work and play :

"I doubt it is worth the effort, but here goes!
let's see if we can turn these into the ruby slippers-"

Monday, February 21, 2011

Microfiction Monday, 2/21/11

"JOE you in here? my cell phones dead.
turns out the whole town is haunted-
My feet are killing me already;
I am going back to the bus-"

Poetry Bus, 2/21/11

I knew a woman who                         
                  Was a good cook and a quick one if need be,
scrambled eggs with or without cheese.
                   Was direct about putting lipstick on and gathering her coat.
I knew a woman who
                    Laughed unaffectedly at jokes, or funny stories she was told.
                    Who had a sister and a brother who could and would show up for visits,
other than just on holidays.
I knew a woman who
                    Enjoyed a good long letter, it made her hug hug us all.
                    And when her husband moved away she told us
we would be lucky recipients of news!
                    The day she left she waved and smiled walked on; and turned to wave again.
I knew a woman with brown hair, a genuine smile, who sent pictures in the mail
and wrote once a month for years.

Friday, February 18, 2011

Flash fiction 55, 2/18/11

I visited G-man this morning to see an array of terrific
creatures. I was in the mood for thievery -so-
My Mythological Beast:

         A fuzzy, silver thing
        with lots of legs and arms
akin to a milk weed seed-
Only far larger, stronger
and faster- can zip
into a crevice anywhere
 fly and attack just like a sneeze!
Will grab a leg outdoors
or drown you in a swimming pool;
  slide in bed-
zap and freeze your dream!

Monday, February 14, 2011

Microfiction Monday, 2/14/11

"I have had about enough of this lounging
listening to silly love poems and maybe sipping wine!
I am going down to investigate that river "

Friday, February 11, 2011

Flash fiction 55, 2/11/11

                                                                          ( 55 in italics)
Sometimes on short notice, we are asked to share
our 'Experience, Strength and Hope'
in recovery. Last night was one of those.
We say a prayer and then
We tell a story about 'What it was like,
what happened and what it is like now.'

  Can you see the silhouette over there
-see where I am pointing?

    " Down the train platform,
     a figure, quite straight and thin
     -if you look a bit closer through 
     the back light and steam-
     tweedy brown suit
     with a rounded hat,
     a frizzy pony tail
     over the left shoulder,
     her nose buried in a book.
     At her feet, well blended
     a stiff suitcase
     in shaded yellow."

This is a person my Higher Power
has shown me.Where she came
from and where she has gone since,
Has involved some painful choices.
Insanity,oblivion, Mercy and Grace -

She is a traveler. On the move to and fro.

Have you ever looked down on a lake from above
surrounded by evergreens ?
Sometimes the scene is Winter
sometimes Summer-
Sometimes there is movement
in and around those trees.
Or it may only be tracks in the snow
to tell you 'someone' has been here.

    I never know what views
H.P. will want to draw on.
I dread the dredging-
But I have learned
'This too shall pass.'
I have come to understand
that you who are listening,
may need to hear
where I have been. What I have
I look back over what came through
and wonder- was it enough?
What could they possibly
have gotten from that ?

Sometimes you folks tell me
afterward. Sometimes not.
Usually there is at least
some " Thanks for sharing".
"I like your honesty"-
Occasionally specific incidents
are mentioned.
You have told me:
Just "Pass it on".
Just do it. "Let go..."

It may bring me to tears
amazement, acceptance;
But somehow, somewhere,
always gratitude. Amen.

Monday, February 7, 2011

Microfiction Monday ,2/7/11

In Monday's Art class they had darkened the windows
to see how many full body shadow tracings
they could fit on the mural paper by 2:45.

Friday, February 4, 2011

Flash fiction 55 2/4/11

Absolute, almost-pig-Latin silliness is required sometimes...

A Light bulb :   *Flash* 

Goin' out Today,
Hey !

Gotta find my Sled-

Nice steep hill

for  Runnin', Laughin'       

Go fast, on bellies,

So tired of shovelin' snow,
You -What-Say?

More on Saturday ?!
No way- I'm leavin' Hey!  

Tuesday, February 1, 2011

Magpie Tales, 2/1/11

Chipped and worn,
Umber steps drop away from the plateau
ruby roads into black trenches.

Crayon note horses
rainbow maned
strut and gallop, tails high

pride and freedom bring them
to canyon cliffs
cinnamon dust plumes

Hot searing wind
arises from below
reminiscent of fire,
I give them wings.

Monday, January 31, 2011

Microfiction Monday, 1/31/11

"Wow forty-eight soap bars, smells fine! good shape after
floating from the wreck; let's give'em to the boys
they'll love all the bubbles"

Friday, January 28, 2011

Flash fiction 55, 1/28/11

From : Love force#5 a lovely painting posted by Brian Miller of Waystationone.
Copy and Paste does not seem to work, no matter how many times I try. Sorry folks.

See the sheer rock rising?
a black butterfly
has shed her wings
to turn on point
over them and pansies
spread on an outcropping

that will bear the brunt 
of a fire fly cindering fast
to land in front
of a tribal lady
her headdress tipped
in reverence to stories
unfolded by a volcano

Monday, January 24, 2011

Microfiction Monday 1/24/11

"Sorry to bring you out in this weather-
Watch the water under the the railroad bridge;
and tell me what you see--There!!-what is that??"

Sunday, January 23, 2011

Poetry Bus,1/23/11

When I was young I loved zoo's.

Growing up I drew a lot of animals,
sometimes I wanted them
Eye to eye, eye to paw-

I needed close up:
scents or lay and curl of fur,
feather and microscopic colors.

I watched twitch of whisker,
tilt of head.
Sometimes line of shoulder,
flick of wing
shift of weight.

Grain of hoof, shell,
the grit of tendon
turn of horns
or curve of claw.

Friday, January 21, 2011

Flash fiction 55 1/20/11

I was reading a book this morning
Devotion, by Dani Shapiro.
 (p. 17) stories, energy.
Then I saw G-mans bikes-

'Samskara' knots of energy
in hips, heart, jaw, lungs;
are stories held within,

I see nuggets
of white and striped colors
large marbles with uneven layers
Unmeltable, uncrackable.

Then the stories unrolling
as we try on wheels,
attached to out feet

skates-then bigger
wheels of tricycles,
bicycles onto Ferris wheels,
what are their stories like?

Tuesday, January 18, 2011

Magpie Tales, 1/18/11

They had been stuck in the house for two days. Millie held
her feather, but she was not amused by their jokes.
Sally and Fran had been laughing all the way up the hill,
brandishing their twigs broken off the flower stalks from the garden.
Now they will begin a sword fight -and someone- most likely me -
is going to end up covered with snow. Maybe I should turn around 
and go back right now; before my sisters instigate more nonsense!

Monday, January 17, 2011

Microfiction Monday 140, 1/17/11

"Oh my- what has just popped into my hand here?
I grabbed the wrong handle!  "   

Sunday, January 16, 2011

Poetry Bus,1/16/11

My morning meditation became about tiny, shiny birds.
Songbirds and all things relating to them- colorful.
Does this apply to TFE's prompt ?

The apse was empty
and so I went out
into the greening garden
and picked up a rake.
Emeralds lead me onward,
" Grriiishhh, rrrisshhh,"
pulling brown tufts away
"Fluff, enough."
Suddenly a choral voice
wavered out, gaining strength,
heart rending solo
from above.
"Who-?" I  whispered
scanning the ring of apple trees,
and far left on the tippy top branch
a little red blob with its beak to the sky
was serenading all around
a washed blue sky.
And so he and I
kept company,
sometimes in sync and sometimes
I'd stop, lean on the handle
just breathing.
All the way down the long yard,
he sang, I raked,
until I reached the windmill.

Saturday, January 15, 2011

Flash fiction 55 1/14/11

Someone mentioned music and how it transports us- (I believe it was Brian
at WaystationOne/ Onestop Poetry)and it reminded me about the clarity and unity
of the experience from childhood.I did write 99.9% of this story yesterday-
then ran out of time and quiet to finish...

Music flowing
over a generous blue rug
a young child
spinning, dipping
to pick the flowers
under her feet,
following all
the twisting paths,                 
inward, outward
a heart scaling mountains
sailing rough seas
through seasons
for years;
until painting,
drew her away;
now she wonders if lines
could re-twine
into a melody someday.

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

Magpie Tales, 1/12/11

A page of music
has notes so light
and short with rests,
they're peeling off the page

coloring our air
with sounds so bright
we can laugh
and dance or stare,

at a banner
shedding enough flowers
to cover all the snowflakes
in our hair

Monday, January 10, 2011

Poetry Bus,1/10/11

The way anger can hang on
and 'Rent free space in our heads'-

Over and over:
Much, much too late-
for that very important date,
No pocket watch 
Just anger to relate-
Calmly? quietly?

No-No! I write
and sing
-and wait!

Microfiction Monday,1/10/11

A very silly take on the prompt picture
I happened on another of Susan at Stony River 
photo's of this mythical creature-
and this conversation popped out...

 Where is your eye?
My oye is on the other soyde
 Where, is my life ?
In between moy hands!
 Where are my wings
On moy back you silly thing! 

Friday, January 7, 2011

Flash fiction 55 1/7/11

 A quick response to G-man's photo:

A fire in the works
where dragons lurk-beware.
stillness snakes its head around:
lips rake, in no uncertain terms
 a quake's about
to shake this ground.
Brown eyes
 claws about to gore
new gashes in your hide-
these pearls
 lay their curls
quietly around;
but there is a link
between danger and this girl-

Wednesday, January 5, 2011

One Shot Wednesday

The perfection of connection
with strength and stretch,
the beauty of an arch
or lift completes
our reach and touch
before letting go.

Effort from each
enhances us,
expands encourages
creates before the tumble
roll or turning,
brings us on
to discovery...

Sunday, January 2, 2011

Microfiction Monday 1/3/11

See my shoulder? That cow just kicked
a fresh bucket of cream all over me
as I picked up the tin of Texaco Grease
to do this advertisement