Apples, Berries, Roses, herbs

bound with string and ribbon,

hide the hint of decay.

Satin, Velvet, Cotton, oak

tucked in and around a box

made to take love away.

Sobbing, Whispers, Tip-toe, grief

made all pretty for those

forced to deal with the day.

Ritual, Habits, Ceremony

humane acts, over time, muting truth

and the reason for the nosegay.


Winds are pushing the trees around,

whipping flags into a frenzy.

Immature dust monsters grow and swarm,

dancing to the tune.

But I daren’t open the windows,

as flower blossum’s offspring would attack

So, shut away from the sun, another

beautiful day passes, without me, in June

A Teacher’s Craft

There are high pitched giggles of youth

combining with swirling motion, a never ending energy

There are colorful walls filled with impressionistic art

as fictional characters dance across the floor.

A light streams in from a hidden door

as an invisible wand…

oak, supple, dragon heart string center…

weaves a spell on the minds with in this room

A gentle witch walks through the throng,

prodding, supporting, encouraging

Suddenly, fist bumps and hugs abound as

the magic takes hold and

believers are made of the doubtful

I am

Daughter, Sister, Woman

I am all of these things

with out choice, designations from life


Teacher, Mentor, Leader

I am all of these things

because of need, others views of me


Poet, Artist, Creator

I am all of these things

by drive, instincts too strong to ignore


Tired, Lost, Alone

I am all of these things

in my spirit, deeply aching pain


Seeking, Pushing, Enduring

I am all of these things

as I peer into the mist of a future unplanned


Here… Still… Here

I am… through perseverance,

a strength intertwined with all the things I am

sj luellen

and so it begins….

Excited to be doing my third full marathon. I made so many friends through the last two years and hope to make a few more. The support offered here has led to my being ready to really put myself out there. Can’t wait to see what is in store for us this year.

and so it begins…

cliche, but apropos as

we await the start




Pencil on the finger tips

Ink on the hands

This has been my life



Stories to entertain

Stories to amaze

This has been my life



With my friends and family

With students and co-workers

This has been my life



Was always a dream

Was always something someone else did

And now this is my life





August 14, 2016



Warm glowing crackles from the stone hearth

as the circle begins to grow.

Murmuring voices gather into lilting laughter and stories of growing old.

The davenport is getting seedy from generations of hands and bodies.

Oils that have left behind their traces; ghosts of friends and family.

The walls have been many colors,

once even a fake wood.

The chip in the corner from children’s scuffling

tells a rainbow story of passing time.

There is a sturdy deep red rocker sitting where

the enfolding over-stuffed recliner used to be.

It finally reached its end,

when Granma could feel the springs.

Its twin is losing the floral skirt,

but still carries enough fluff for Grandpa’s bones.

On the table, in the middle,

sits the perpetual monopoly game

that has entertained so many rainy days.

In the air, the smell of dinner wafting through

the house making everyone’s mouth water

with thoughts of roast turkey,

mashed potatoes

and pumpkin pie.






August 14, 2016

At the Diner

She sits waiting for

Her prince Charming to show up,

Pumpkin coach outside.


At the Diner


August 14, 2016

There is Silence.

There is silence…

No humming TV.

No buzzing phone.

No static voices in the background.

There is silence…

My brain doesn’t speak.

My heart doesn’t beat.

My ears don’t ring in a disturbing pitch.

There is silence…

The world sleeps.

The moon wanes.

The day lumbers on slothful tip-toe.

There is silence…

In the room around me.

In the air outside.

In the dreams where my consciousness hides.

There is silence.




There is Silence.


August 14, 2016


Who do you trust, little girl.

A fox or a bear?


Who should lead, little one,

The kit or the cub?


Who do you love, little dear,

Can you make your choice clear?


Who do you know, little lass,

The sly or the crass?




August 14, 2016