Tag Archives: poetry

Guest Post Monday – Ode to a Black Cooking Pot

My parents accumulate people.  There were always extras around our home, for Thanksgiving, for Christmas, for Sunday afternoon generic communing.  Mom and Dad downsized about ten years ago.  Fortunately, they didn’t downsize their desire to informally adopt a lovely variety … Continue reading

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Things Fall Apart

Entropy beckons. All systems crave chaos. Wrinkles.  Dementia.  Peeling paint. Cleveland devolves, a frenzied orgy of hate. Stone her! Maggots in the flour. Will the bread rise?  Will the bread rise? Entropy makes his grand entrance, adorned with careless exclamation … Continue reading

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The Thin Line

Between compos mentis and dementia, between memory and life, between the past and the present, Falls the shadow. A Neverland of possibility. Nothing to undo.  Nothing to be done. In this shadow space lurks awareness, knowledge of history, hope for … Continue reading

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Death Cab For Cutie

(A wee poem for a Monday – because every day is better with bacon.) Driving to Mecca, my piggy and me, Two lost souls searching for sanctity. He in the backseat and I in the front, I’m humming showtunes, but … Continue reading

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Driven to Tears

Moments of solitude killed her. Slowly, over the two years of her confinement. One day speaking her mind, speaking her truth, spewing forth acid.   The acid burned and they took her.   In the night. (Women are always taken … Continue reading

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“We Grow Accustomed to the Dark”

Here is a poem inspired by a line from Emily Dickinson: “We grow accustomed to the dark.”  The first line is hers, the rest mine. ———————- We grow accustomed to the dark. Slowly over time, the shadows creep. Winding into … Continue reading

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Gem On Demand

Bringing your best self. So many aspects beyond your control:  A fight with your spouse, the weather, traffic, political events across the globe. My gem is dingy, debris obscuring the sparkle. Wash me in a fountain of mindfulness.  Buff me … Continue reading

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Prompt Writing: A Line From Margaret Atwood

One of my writing partners suggested using the first line of Margaret Atwood’s Alias Grace as a writing prompt.  Talk about pressure.  The sentence in quotes belongs entirely to Atwood.  The rest is mine. ————————- “Out of the gravel there … Continue reading

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Sunday Afternoon Poetry

I recently took a class at the Loft Literary Center with Peter Blau.  Peter is three parts Mahatma Gandhi, one part Freud, two parts Santa Claus.  For one of our exercises, he utilized “Katie’s Poetry Prompt”.  Katie was ten when … Continue reading

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