She’s a speck A breezy little bit Hummin along. Like an octopus fighting the ocean. She has no problem standin tall Waves crashing Water slipping between boogie board and feet The sea is trying to push her aside None of that for speck. She’s straight,…

A photo of Dale’s pond. He always wanted one. I talked him in to getting it dug. Then the drought set in. This year, finally, it rained. Twenty inches in one month. I photographed the full pond, sent the photo to my son, told him…

Hour Seven – Look on your phone and find the 10th non selfie picture and use that as your prompt.   The Graduate   Shiny sturdy ravens all They stride into the ancient hall and take their designated places after tentatively, anxiously scanning faces at…

The Sweetness of Vinegar credit to:The Vinegar Man by Ruth Comfort Mitchell Thank you Miss Collins, my poetry muse, your old legs bowed, with fist pounding out each poem’s rhythm upon your brittle hip. making us stand, alone, to recite from memory Vinegar, vinegar, vinegar…

Not counting days Losing the sense of time Being in your arms is what I cherish With each passing day You are there by my side Our magic working wonders When we lay together Under the lap of nature The twinkle in your eye Infinitely…

Where do we go from here? I ask does heaven truly exist up there? What happens after death? Anything beyond people bringing us wreath? What if neither heaven nor hell exist? How much shall I deny myself freedom before I exit?

One two step satin finishes follow the swaying hips sacheying fondly on marble graceful! hands full on the waltz.  

From the picture, she smiled at only me From underneath her eyes, danced not a fickle smile, men Surrounded by family and friends, her smile was for only me Her face is lined with million words, words of depth mien   She is a wife,…

I dissent and do not consent to your violation of my sovereign self I dissent and will always lament the grief you have rained down in the name of false gods I dissent and will not relent until every law is torn apart at its…

  Fourteen rocks, purple orbs Easily crushed by hand Scooped and shaped, delicately formed From a child’s box of sand Hours of fun and memories made With all the questions born Were these rocks native to the moon That came to earth airborne Or were…