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 up
Hold on.

Being Strong..

There is something about being alone
When you stand on your own

People think you are strong
For you it seems very wrong

They don’t know about your choice
You keep searching your own voice

A tree stands tall who bear no fruits
Knows very well, it can be destroyed by the roots

But still it stands in front of a storm
As it has to protect the lawn…

Late bloomer

This is how it always starts. A late bloomer never seems to be on time for anything.

Imagine the horror, thinking that you have ten minutes to spare when you’re already an hour behind.

You had assumed that 9 in the morning is 9 in the morning for you…point blank and period.

However, you are just as dead wrong as you are dead tired and the only ass that was made was of yourself.

However, what I lack in punctuality, I make up for in iron will.

The last time I had such a late start, I made perfect creme brûlée and nailed every order that came my way.

This is no new thing for me.

Late starts and late nights, trying to make something of myself.

Sweating, grunting, groaning and remembering “this is nothing new.”

This is the beginning of the story of your life, this too will be the end.

“He had a rocky start, but finished strong.”

This is nothing new, this is nothing I’m not used to.

Hell, I was even born late; a late bloomer right out of the womb.

But, you know what they say about late bloomers?

They make the best flowers.

Reflections of Nature- Poem #2 for Half Marathon by Ingrid Exner

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 movement-one giant stream.

Together they move in a V formation.

Individual desires teamed with dedication.

One leader to carry the weight of them all.

Never allowing one single to fall.

Spring migrations signals their flight.


Of the honking goose gaggle

Flying overhead through the night.


Nature can teach us a thing or two,

All about LIFE…me, and YOU.

The lessons…reflections of how we can be,

United in Nature just as we see

Reflected in Nature- seen by all.

Each person to witness and hear this call.


Reflections Of Nature- Acrostic Poem by Ingrid Exner, August 23rd 2014.



Breakfast in America

It is the last of such a simple thing

For a long while.

The mind likes to catalogue

All the heartaches, large and small.


But I think I must be stronger now,

Or have had the sentiment burned out of me,

For though this is the last breakfast in America,

And I have always hated goodbyes and that gaping unknown

We call the future,

I am not beside myself,

Nor in tears.

I am just having breakfast in America.

1. tanka 1

Saturday morning

marathon magic begins

words swarming like bees

building the hive of structure

making honey   poetry

10AM post

Too quiet here…

Did I say that?

Can’t be.

Someone is bound to appear

not quietly either.

Hey mom, can you help me

mom, I need…

mom, can we go…

School starts when?

Oh yeah, today is Saturday…


Butterfly cocoon (IV)


Velvet and satin ribbon; figures of porcelain.

Counting your blessings in an echo of dreams.


At last.

Lowered lashes over milky white coat.

Leaning closer- breathlessly close.

So close you can feel her warmth.

Morning dew comes

with a shimmery veil of tiny pearls of glitter.

Liquid gold enfolding the mourning of the night.

Naked Soul

The first drop is always the most courageous.

Leaping from the hands of God, a place of perfection,

Falling faster and faster, with the speed of no direction.

Lack of malice, holding no contention,



landing peacefully kissing my forehead, caressing away my tension.

More courageous drops begin to follow,

This brings on a dewy dimension.

Cleansing all of my worries, dissolving my misconceptions,

Beneath my feet,

something has caught my attention.

It is me!

My naked soul’s reflection.




“First Words”

The morning breaks,

A new day ensues,

I stir uneasily.


What is so different?

Not crowing, nor shrill ringing,

But plaintive cries,

Of Cat’s wailing.


On the white canvas I hack my way,

Letters blearily swirl around.

Not Hercules, more Atlas.


I shrug, and stumble.