when the door is closed
she cries silent tears
and mines her thoughts-composed
her distress disappears

into a verse she knows by heart
and sings her soul to stir
a theme, a song the poet starts
to sketch- conveys the world to her.

such things should be in books to share
and on the page inspired
with predecessor’s ink and air
once weighted and admired.

Though now, poetic thoughts disperse
on ether, winds unbound
and beauty finds a home inversed
not on pages, written down.

and when she’s in her room, confined-
her echos and her action sings
minding thoughts-composed and rhymed
for that day and these modest things.

I read news every day about poetry being on the wane, about publications being discontinued, about fewer opportunities for poetry to be in the mainstream…it is sad, but poetry is a language that can’t be killed. It breaths life into itself. It’s subversive. It is ethereal. It constantly changes. It renews itself and us in the process. If it ever reaches the point where poetry is not printed (and I hope it never does!), it will exist on the scrap papers, napkins, brick walls and memories/minds of its practitioners.


the lamp shade
is colored with a depth
of incandescence,
the way a face
a heart, flushed
and swelling
with crescendo –
a glimmering crest
crowning the moment.

Some stream of consciousness writing this morning…I had nothing on my mind as I sat down to write. I looked up from the computer and saw the light ;-)

Who doesn’t like it when something nice just appears out of nowhere?

My writing output has slowed of late, due to work, family obligations, and life in general. I always feel a little better when I can craft a thought, a vision, or a feeling in a poem. It is like my heart shakes off a bit of the coldness that can creep in. Saturdays are good mornings for that. I’m grateful. Thanks for visiting.


I have a confession.

I like jello.

It’s simple consistency and the ability to hold different flavors makes it the perfect dessert. Strawberry, lemon, cherry…lime is my favorite -by far. Green jello. It is easy to make: Just add warm water, mix, and let it set. It can be served up in little dessert cups, in larger pans and then cut into slabs or cubes. This delicacy is unique. It holds form. You can depend on it…mostly…to be the same every time you make it, only becoming distasteful when it is stale.

I recognize that this love for jello goes back to my childhood. During my hospital stays for various surgeries, the food was never a favorite – it was not consistent – nor was it the easiest to eat at the time. I don’t really remember the meals, but I remember the jello. Cool and soft, flavored, and easy to eat.

It is also versatile. You can mix it with other things to contribute that flavor. Mix with whipped white topping giving a fluffy fruit flavoring. Or mixed with fruit itself. Or as shots with liqueur. I’m not as much of a fan of jello salads, perhaps I feel the other ingredients overwhelm the flavor in the jello itself…which is funny, because gelatin is really only a medium to hold things together. The fact that jello is flavored is a bonus, I suppose.

I seem to appreciate that bonus, so I don’t really care for the desserts that “contain” jello.

When we eat at our favorite chinese buffet restaurant (the one that plays smooth jazz), I always check out the jello dessert on the salad table. My son looks at me with doubt, and says “You know you are always disappointed that the jello is stale.” This is true. Jello that is “old” develops that toughened layer on top where it has dried out over time. This ruins the trifecta of form, flavor, and texture. Nine times out of ten, I am disappointed. But I keep trying the jello. I’m persistent like that.

They don’t serve lime-flavored, though.

lime jello
I recognize that my use of the term ‘jello’ may be implying that I endorse a particular product of gelatin dessert. Jello has become such a ubiquitous product that it’s identification is similar to kleenex ~tissue, coke~carbonated beverage, etc.


interior to the moment
where we mingled our words,
every other one articulated
disparate pretenses
though thought bound-
to increment and comply
with the next,
leading onward
in the clutches
and parlance of consummation
to a synchronous

I know the words here are a bit “overzealous,” though as I’ve mentioned before here…I like the sounds that words make. So indulge my vocabulary and just listen to the sounds. Thanks for visiting.


in the hollows
and meadows
you call me with the thrushing
of pine needles to inspire

to climb
and place my steps
on familiar ground
pulsating with desire.

bring me closer
to a shared ascent-
where your words, once nestled
in the horizon, peek out
among the clover and the briar.

and we hold each other in the glow
of sunset’s flushed attire.