Year 3

Hey there fellow poets! I’m honored to be writing with you again this year.


It’s my third time here and I have been impressed by those of you who put your works into books. Way to go!


Okay, it’s time to start poeting. May we all be inspired and create some lovely works!

Year Two

Hello, fellow writers! Are you as excited as I am to be joining poets from all over the globe tomorrow for this marathon?

This is my second time participating. I only do the twelve-hour portion because my ol’ body can’t handle staying up for twenty-four.

Since last completing, I have published my first two novels! They are cozy stories about two characters named George and Mabel, loosely based upon my husband and me. The biggest difference is that George and Mabel made…um, not quite better choices but certainly ones that had Steve and I made would most likely have had a dramatic effect on our lives. If you’d like to read about them, you can find them on Here are the links: The Adventures of George and Mabel: Based on an Almost (Kind of? Sort of? Could Be?) True Story and The Adventures of George and Mabel: Based on More Almost (Kind of? Sort of? Could be!) True Stories.

Tomorrow is going to be great! I look forward to reading your stories and learning more about you. Get some good sleep and Lord willing, I shall be with you in the morning!





If Two Out Of Three Ain’t Bad Then One Out of Three Is

Baby we can talk all night


I told you 

There’s nothing left inside



you can cry all night

that’ll never change the snow

piling up outside


I wish you would make me leave

I tried to show you

I’m tired of words

I keep on telling you

there ain’t no way I’m ever gonna love you

be sad

be sad


I know you’re looking for a

Cracker Jack 

I tell you 


I’ll never give you

so many years

I’ll never

love back



she left me on a stormy night

She kissed me and got out of our bed

I pleaded and I begged her to walk out that door

She turned right away


there ain’t no way I’m ever gonna love you

Now be sad

there ain’t no way I’m ever gonna love you

Now be sad


ain’t getting nowhere


Stefanie at Seven

Dear Stefanie:


Remember when you were seven;

A little freckle-faced imp?

You weren’t always sure-footed

And often your big toe would be limp.


You liked to play with dolls

And brush out their hair;

And loved being on the swings

Flying high into the air.


At school you were smart

And wanted to be the first one done.

You thought if you were

You’d be able to have more fun.


Your friends were few

Except the ones in your head.

Going home when he was there

Was something to make you feel dread.


I wish I could hold you,

Old former self of mine.

You were so lonely

Searching for something you just couldn’t seem to find.


You lost yourself in music

And in making up all kinds of rhymes.

You’d play with your doll

And sing to her all the new lines.


I sometimes still feel I’m you

Trapped in a tender shell;

Wanting to escape,

Feeling doomed to hell.


Oh you sweet poor child

You never had the chance!

Never had the love,

Never learned how to dance.


Your next years weren’t better

And possibly became worse.

The hurt inside continued to burn;

Same chapter, different verse.


Oh you precious little girl,

With your eyes so blue:

This world is a sad place

One not meant for you.


I long to hold, squeeze, and protect you;

To shield you from all that is to come;

To save you from what you’ll go through,

Before all is said and done.


As you close your eyes, dear child

Lost in fitful sleep,

I gently kiss your forehead.

And for you–my self–I weep.

Ten Words

While sitting on the dock of the bay,

Watching the fog settle into a gentle hush,

The moonbeam caught my eye.

It reflected off of my canteen

Sitting there on the concrete shelf.


Damn!  My coffee is cold.

I walked over to the fir,

Gave it a kick.

Hobbling over, I sat down,

And now I am crying on the dock of the bay.

Love Story

Oliver had his Jennifer;

Stephen has his Stefanie.

Ollie and Jenny:

Steve and Stef.


They met in college

As did Steve and I.

His parents didn’t approve of Jenny

Nor did Steve’s approve of me.


They met in a library;

We met in a gym.

Jenny was a teacher

And so was I


“What can you say about a 25-year-old girl who died?”

Oliver’s memorial to his wife.

“Love means never having to say you’re sorry”

Jennifer’s infamous words to her preppy.


Oliver, when in need of money, was asked by his dear ol’ dad

Why, have you “gotten a girl in trouble?”

Steve’s granny once said similar words, but to me

“We always knew you trapped him.”


“To make a long story short” or “Get in the kitchen, woman!”

Are some of Steve’s most famous lines.

“I’m a lover not a fighter” or “Most men do”

Are often some of Stef’s retorts.


Oliver loved his Jenny;

Steve loves his Stef.

Their story comprised a novella

Ours will need a few sequels.

The Little Red-Haired Girl

She craved three things in life:

Unconditional love,

honesty, and security.


Instead, she received

Being misunderstood, rejection,

And judgment.


She died hungry.

Unknown Song

If I listen to your song

Will you listen to mine?

If I expose myself to your kind

Will you do the same?


If a picture is worth those thousand words

And the picture on this cover is it

Dare I write that I am not interested

In things that look…weird?  


I shall listen to your song

And keep an open mind

And when it’s over?

Maybe I’ll respond again!

No Tunnel, No Light

It’s dark in here

And narrow

I can’t seem to make headway

Because I cannot see

What’s in front of me

Or behind


If I stretch my arm out

What will it touch

I’m so afraid to find out

Yet I cannot be idle

Because the unknown

Is scarier than the truth


So I step forward, boldly

Only to have the darkness

Swallow me up

Was that a noise I heard

Or just my own heartbeat

Pounding mercilessly, loudly


If only there was light

A glimmer of hope

To light my path

To give me strength

If only it wasn’t so dark

Could I find my way

The Kiss That Never Was

I was lying on the ground

My head in his lap.

Dazzled by his smile

I felt such bliss.


Someone uttered “Give him a kiss!”

And his eyes twinkled down at me;

That mischievous grin

that was always at the ready


I leaned up

Smooched him on the cheek.

“Aww.  Come on!” the others muttered,

And Bruce devilishly agreed.


He leaned his lips into mine

His beard scratchy against my face.

He kissed me like he meant it

And the crowd cheered.


Bruce Willis, you handsome fella

I believe you made me blush.

Even now as I recall that moment

My heart smiles in fondness for you.


I don’t know 

What would have happened next

Had I not awakened.

But sometimes . . . I wonder.