Thursday, November 13, 2014

POETRY - The Calla Lily

The Calla Lily

A Calla Lily
folds upon itself.
One single perfect petal
the phallus, the stamen.

Intertwines him
with perfect longing
and he dusts her with
a golden shower.

Saturday, November 8, 2014

POETRY - Last Night's Moon

Last Night's Moon

Last night the moon
chased the sunset away.
Pillows of gray and purple
were laced with
the gold of the moon.

Friday, October 17, 2014

POETRY - Art Is Breath

Art Is Breath

Art is breath.
My lungs take baby steps,
tiny breaths of fear.
It feels right, good.
Air in
words out.
Deeper breaths
fear replaced by joy.

Oxygen to my mind
thoughts quicken
my fingers trembled.
I pick up the pen.
The lace that I draw
words today
tangles tomorrow
the line that turns
to a leaf, a flower.

I thank my God
for breaths today.
For the thoughts
he gives me.
For the words that
tumble from my mind
to my pen, my lips.

Friday, September 12, 2014

POETRY - His Fingertips

His Fingertips

His fingers so wide
I cannot slip mine

So I hang onto the tips.
Smile, happy inside.

He curls around
enfolds my hand.
I am cocooned
safe for the day.

When I have grieved enough
he will open that hand
and let me soar.

Wednesday, September 10, 2014

POETRY - Beneath My Skin

Beneath My Skin

My emotions are just
beneath my skin.

My body barely able
to contain them.

What happens
if they escape
take wing?

Sunday, September 7, 2014

Poetry - The Women

The Women

The women live
up and down
the street.
Each has a box
with a door.

They sell themselves.
They buy a chance.
They –
for the best.

They want –

Sometimes they win.
More often –
     slapped down
               chewed up
                    spat out
by those
designed to protect.

The women
continue to give.
Each generation,
each culture,

knead their bread.
Finds the food
to fill their bellies.

They take to their
beds. Want passion
and softness.
Some win,
get to sleep in
his arms, safe
through the night.

Some not so lucky.
Wam Bam
Thank You Ma'am.
Or worse –
               torn apart.

Lie in confusion,
in despair.

They gave it all.
Tried to hold
on to their souls.
But some gambled,
lost that too.

Saturday, September 6, 2014

POETRY - Why Do Poets Write

Why Do Poets Write

Why do poets write?
The obvious, trite answer
because we have to.
But why?

I write because
I have no choice.
I need to tell my truth.

The words tremble
in my body
on my tongue.
My mind sometimes
frightened, terrified.

Banks of fog.
I pull phosphorus
letters from the sea.
I gather them
begin to build the words.
To tell my tale, my truth.

When I am afraid.
It makes me –

I pick I choose
till it is right
and then I sleep.

But still it is not done.
I say my poetry
gives me voice.
It does.

It requires that I speak
say it out loud. The words
spring to my lips.
Get caught in my tongue.

Sometimes tastes of bile,
other times so sweet, so light.

They can be sticky
grasping to my body
not wanting to leave
the safety of my lips.

Each time a word is
spoken, a sinew rips
and it is strengthened.

I am so tired.
I fall asleep.
I can rest.

I wake, I tremble
I write again
because I have to.

Sunday, August 31, 2014

POETRY - Star Over Abiquiu

Star Over Abiquiu

One of the most
beautiful sights
I have ever seen
is the pinnacles of stone,
moon bathed
And a single star
over Abiquiu.

POETRY - Thunder and Flute

Thunder And Flute

I crave the thunder
the roll, the black.
I want to feel
it under my ribs.
Feel the boom
the one that comes
with the rain.

Have you ever heard
a flute
in the rain?
The sound pure,
so sweet.
Then the crack,
then the rain.
The sweet longing
of that flute
calling the thunder back.

Saturday, August 23, 2014

POETRY - He Is Breath

He is Breath

He is breath upon my skin.
I feel his kiss upon me.
He lingers as he slides
across my life.

I loved this man.
Still love him.
The essence of him
will caress my body
invade my soul

Friday, May 16, 2014

POETRY - I Wander

I Wander

I wander
what do I see.
A bee, feeding
on the lace of flowers.
An old tree
sharing food and shelter.

I see swallows
soaring through the morning
and evening skies.
Two stay behind
begin their beginning.
The sea kisses the shore
never tires of her.
The osprey, the wind
meet and dance.

The clouds
stroke the mountains.
I see the sun
and it watches me
as I wander.

Tuesday, January 14, 2014


It has been way too long.

I am coming back.

Just a heads up to look forward to or run from this blog.

Starting 21 Secrets tomorrow!!!!

So ready to begin again.

See you this week.