Flip flop VCS Flip flop On the table top This won’t take a minute You won’t feel a thing Except for this It might be hit or miss Flip flop Lying on the table top It’s a bit of a miracle A dash of science…

I just posted my twelfth poem, another Half Marathon finished. I can’t imagine doing this for another twelve hours. Good luck to all you Super Beings who complete the Full Marathon. I wrote Old Lady Poems this year. That is how my brain feels at…

I am full of indecision, my heart is a whirlwind lost in its twist all because you stood within my sight, your scent wafting toward me. What do I do now, with these feelings coursing through my veins, my body moves hypnotized, soaring across the…

white smoke of Canaveral curling towards visionary space   blindfolded, she went 20 to zero, ‘fore seeking our hides.   anticipation of Old Faithful Yellowstone’s sulfur-up-your-nose.   Guy Lombardo New Year’s eve – champagne glasses tilted high.   on your mark, get set, and Olympic…

The buzz of the local farmers market resonates closer with every step, music and singing tickle my ears. Young girls on ukuleles, a string-band stomping in ballad, street performers juggling—delighting the young families slurping up ice cream, toasted cinnamon almonds, and Bavarian pretzels. Fresh scents…

WINGS I envy eagles and butterflies, I envy ravens and bumblebees. I envy all creatures born with the gift of flight. I achingly long to have wings of my own. Feathery but strong as steel, iridescent purple, blue and white. Wings as beautiful and fierce…

Although sugar-mixed or cream-stirred It will always be black for me As black as a moonbeams-less sky. Serve it hot, cold, or in-between It will always be black, particularly mine Black as the darkness of the night Sans stars and the milky way. No matter…

For the introvert, the harvest of spoken syllables is meager. Go on, ask a friend for her spare words.  Ask your husband; he doesn’t know how to be quiet. Ask yourself “Is this garden really worth it?” I assure you, it is.  Dig down. Friends…

I always wanted to ride into town, point my Colt .44 down the street, fire off some rounds over the heads of strangers and friends.   Bulbs burn bright red, inviting patrons up the steep steps where the red-haired girl waves from the top stair,…

the cucumbers in the garden have a lot of room to roam, to run but instead they try to climb the tomatillo plant or the sunflowers no matter how many times we tell them, “no” the teenagers in the house have a lot of time…