Until nothing remained but the soaring melodies Pandora’s demons escaped and writhed twisted gnarls around years filled with divisive tears cruelties and blind loyalties deadends leading to deaths stony silent under silent stones. Pandora’s box had been nothing but a mirror after all, which revealed…

Matte images on printed paper Memories of a lifetime Decades past Notebooks and pages crumpled and worn Words, barely legible Scribbled furiously So many emotions Smiles and tears Courage to thrive In spite many fears

Vibrant and melodic A pleasure to hear A song bursting with color Pastel pink, blue and lavender the music, a voice speaking eloquently carries me away on a wave of melody The rhythm to much to write a poem to But good enough to hear…

Why is it so steep? A wagon full Of children But as heavy as a load of lumber Pushes the handle deep into my palms. I dig in. A work horse. I need to conquer the hill. I dig in Toes trying to stick And…

Entangled Fat strutting chickens contentedly clucking songs to self room to roam, company of the clutch sweet seeds, like heaven’s mana, ever present. A simple peace, deep easy breaths til my gaze falls upon the broken body little wild-bird trapped in netting intended to keep…

My fear of failure weighs me down. Standing still, I collapse, crumbling under pressure, but success scares me more.   (A shadorma is a six line poem with a syllable count of 3/5/3/3/7/5.)

Nothing’s left The Light no longer shine Darkness is the new reality Emptiness, Nobody’s home. Look, what do you see Happiness? Smiling face? Prettiest smile? Look again, deeply, What do you see?  

I wipe my hand against the foggy glass. The maroon mocks me. If I were walking, I would Climb these metal arms, Ask them to hold me close Before throwing me off the edge.   When I was younger, My relatives used to throw me…

Sharing Life We are ginko enthusiasts. Four of us gather at an outdoor picnic table, share a bit of news, talk about the terrain. The local one offers a few tips, and we set off. Solo, we trundle in different directions—no hurry, no pace, no…

Are we there yet, Mommy? Are we there yet? Soon, baby, soon. That’s what I kept telling my son who sat in the back seat. Mile after mile as we drove to our destination. Daddy. He was returning from his last tour of duty overseas….