“The page opens to snow on a field: boot-holed month, black hour the bottle in your coat half vodka half winter light. To what and to whom does one say yes?” – Caryolyn Forche Up the dale the wind from the loch, Finds the stubborn…

Scales of Justice Aptly my symbol.   Compelled to mediate. Longing for peace, understanding, in a world divided by extremes.   I spend my days using my gifts, diplomatically debating: Why disagreeing doesn’t equal hate.   Frustration finds me flailing in hopelessness. Words fall on…

If Colours were all we had This would be a colourful world It takes time to know That not all that glitter’s is gold Sometimes the things you love It does not make any sense as it may not understand the colour of your love…

Twenty-three cyclists Sporting brilliant Saturday plumage Tour the boulevard, Three or four abreast In tight formation. One rider hugs the yellow line, His taillight flashing crimson warnings. They lean into the curve as one Wheeling like a flock of Clownish pelicans.

The gift given from love Never taken for granted Practice and nurture Through the ebb and flow of life   Rising and falling like A ship at sea And when moored safely at to the shore   Let the gift shine brightly for all To…

nothing of significance: a fence scarred by weather new-mown grass brown with clippings sometimes a sparrow dancing on a rail a patch of Oklahoma sky soft with autumn the home I dreamt of as a child

Making pancakes for you before I have had my coffee, is a recipe that consists of the following ingredients: One overly hot pan Not enough butter Undercooked batter in some places Overcooked batter in others A few cuss words sprinkled through… Voila! Burnt pancakes are…

Make it your way never sway as it is like day It can be cruel, fueled by many things Just hold on Cause we all know this too will pass. Gaze into the blue sky and see that your morning is very near don’t give…

Reflections Of Nature (Acrostic) – Poem #2 By Ingrid Exner for Poetry Half Marathon   Rippling clouds fill the sky, Enchanting those that wander by. Flying geese found overhead. Looking for a place to be fed. Each one flying as part of the team. Continuous…

Saturday morning marathon magic begins words swarming like bees building the hive of structure making honey   poetry