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Tag Archives: poetry
FOS – the Fruits Of the Spirit
Love, joy, kindness, faithfulness, and what? The Fruits of the Spirit rot, Forgotten and maligned, sin-sick expendable culture. With instant gratification, easily bruised egos Spar from the anonymity of screens. What can we do to help? Remind everyone to … Continue reading
Asshole
A hemorrhoid, That’s what he is. A fungating mass lurking at the anus of our democracy. Easily irritated, Readily inflamed, Leaching the lifeblood from our veins. Embarrassing. Slimy. Disgusting. We knew it could be big trouble, This … Continue reading
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
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
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
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
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
“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
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
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