Monday, May 31, 2021

this poem


has lost count

of wilting lilacs leis

& awry summer spells

has curious eyes

for rust peeled colors

beneath glossy covers

has locksmith hands

on old clock 

while you

between teacup

stirrings & musings

wait for a phrase 

to cleave you         right

        as        light

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Quadrille #129, A Curiosity of Poems, hosted by De Jackson.   This is a 44 word post with the given word - curiosity.  Join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.  Thank you for the visit.

Tuesday, May 25, 2021

house of green


i dance to your sun-

light of green & shamrock

a speckle of butterfly wings

a rustle from birds & chipmunks 

wildflowers of pale pink & blue

forget-me-nots swish to breeze

above, the maple and oak trees

tower & stretch their young limbs

the forest is tended by sky, clouds,

wind & rich soil teeming by small creatures

busy bees are hard at work

here is soft bed of fern & moss 

here is beating pulse of red 

berries, here is musk from damp soil

it is a full house

there is no place like home*

*"There's no place like home"  - Wizard of Oz, 1939 

Watch the video of Riverwood from my Instagram

Posted for dVerse poets Pub - hosted by Mish. I chose this line from the list of movie quotes.   For the long weekend, we went hiking and breathing in nature.  Have a good week.

Thursday, May 20, 2021



Scribble a summer day

Lilacs scents in the air

Birdsongs fill morning steps

Serene blue is the sky

Paint me a carefree noon

Blue iris blooming joys

As children's red balloons

Buckle kites, straying toys

Compose an evening tune

Setting sun on my tea

The rising flower moon

Pink star we hope to see


Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - MTB hosted by Bjorn Rudberg.   I tried to waltz in my poem.  Thanks for your visits and comments.

Monday, May 17, 2021



he walks with his wounds

underneath his jacket, protesting

words on placard, his voice

a war song in the streets

above the din, old tower bell 


clock wound tight

as wings of departing birds 


tides of moon

i keep a storm watch

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Quadrille, hosted by Lillian.  This is a 44 word post with the chosen word - Wound.  Thanks for the comments & visits.

Thursday, May 6, 2021

Spring of contradictions


I.   spring is a simple


     or dandelion or daffodil

     tulips rising slender 

     wonders & joys

     easy and sweet as magnolias

     mysterious as cherry blooms

     i smell life

     vibrant as cardinals & blue birds

     hopping & pecking on grass for worms-

     beautiful & red earth you are

     enough for me


II.  a white flower bud,

     wrinkled & bent as green grass abounds-

     a tree shrub, still bare

     limbs & not one leaf sprouting on its

     arms shiver in the cold wind-

     amidst shadbush & thriving red maple trees,

     one baby bird 

     falls off the nest,

     waits & shivers into emptiness

     i was wrong,

     spring is as complicated

     as spring snow, dooming

     what little life there is

     to ice & stone

     merciless or merciful, what

     is your purpose?

     i cannot decide




Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - MTB:   Palinode.   Join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.  A palinode is a poem in which the poet retracts a view or sentiment expressed in a former poem.

Tuesday, May 4, 2021



I thought him first a ferryman, but I was wrong.

He wore the night as one walks with a cane.  

Slipping on an ancient body, he was an old 

hand to assist you in your crossings.

Next, I thought of him a sentinel & maybe I

am right.   He watches the night closely as I count

time striking at midnight before the new year.   His

black suit scarcely moving in the wind.   His eyes

an orb of midnight oil, brooding as crows

Casting shadows in this street in middle

of the town square.  I first ran into him,

waving my passport, asking him where was Kipling

station.  He pointed it to me in the map & even

gave me tips to reach the airport.   I thanked him

as if he was a locksmith.   He brushed it off, saying

the city can be a puzzle

if you don't know north & south, east & west

in his grave watchman's voice.

That's me, confused as a lost cloud

With a ring of copper keys on my hand.

He said, a bunch of keys confused him.   He prefers

one fishing line & hook.

I was getting on my way when another man

approached him for help on directions.

He said that I am not a wand maker but I can show

you where to fish, where the water pulls, how to reel 

in a catch  

It now occured to me what he really was.

He is a tide maker.

He listens to the currents & shapes the tides.

He catches the moon and puts it

inside the street lamp.

And he holds the one silver key to close & open it

To whoever knocks at his door

and ask him 

Please, give me back my secrets.

Fictional character's voice inspired by the digital collage of Catrin Welz-Stein here.

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Poetics:  Exploring the Narrative Voice, with guest host, Ingrid. Join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.