Category Archives: Poem


Version 3


Days spread like an Indian blanket in the grass
and those carnival nights.
Anxious sorties into unknown parts of town.

Feeling my number up as the wild sisters
kicked me all the way home
to what they called my posh neighborhood.

Yearned-for months
let out of school,
my continuing education.

The prompts today were posh, number, carnival and anxious.





That strange bird, making its chipping call again.
I open my calendar, hoping to find a blank square
 promising the richness of time as an empty cup to fill.

I have come to recognize
the joy of my own company—

a simple diet filled only with my favorite dishes.

What to savor first? These expected words or an early morning trip
down to the garden before the day has warmed
and sound has found it? 

The men will arrive at 8.
On each side of me, the chipping of concrete

and dry rub of concrete filler. Hours later, the brush.

Their day as productive as my day will be. 

Seeing the empty square,
my choice when and how to fill it.

The Pontificator




The Pontificator

His ego is most copious, but alas, also fragile,
for his imagination is something less than agile.
He’s much given to adages that were coined by another:
prolific writers of the past, his preacher or his brother.
He’s not really a plagiarist. He just forgets the fact
that although he might perform it, he didn’t write the act!
His words, all gloss and polish, are lacking in much worth.
They seem to lack a kernel, though provided with much girth.
For all that they sound pretty—refined to a high gloss,
instead of rarest metal, alas, they’re merely dross.

In short, although they’re polished ’til they sparkle, glitter, gleam,
they ramble on without restraint, sadly lacking a theme.


The prompt words today are copious, fragile, gloss and theme. Here are the links:


Good Taste

Good Taste

It was an ongoing debate
that never tended to abate.
One friend was too prone to oration
concerning the education
of her friend much given to
items that were too frou-frou:
clothing full of frills and ruching,
fluffy pillows good for smooshing,
carved furniture too ornate.
She feared bad taste would be her fate
forever unless she stepped in 
to counteract what might have been. 

She tried to teach her friend restraint
in ornaments and clothes and paint.
She tended to excoriate
items that were too ornate, 
curbing her psychedelic bent
while showing her what Bauhaus meant.
She declared ruffled skirts too silly,
weeding out what was too frilly.
And though her friend declared it wasteful, 
she threw out all that was not tasteful.
Ignoring her friend’s deep depression
as she culled out each possession.

She honed her house goods, cleared her shelves,

deprived her yard of frogs and elves.
Gave her flamingos to Good Will,
banned nicknacks on her window sill.
So finally, when she was through
relieving her of garish hue,
replacing all her things with new,
the friend knew what she had to do.
Her belongings spare, her wardrobe small,
her house was sparse, from wall-to-wall.
The most that she could say of it
was it was tasteful, but lacking wit.

‘Til when the culling was all ended,
the one thing left that still offended
was the friend who had advised her.
By the end, how she despised her.
So, with her training in good taste,
she acted now in confidant haste.
She first picked up, quickly upending
one last thing that needed tending—
dragged it clear across the floor
and tossed it out of her front door.
And that is how it came to pass
she pitched her friend out on her ass!

For more examples of extreme bad taste, go to A Visit to the Weird.

For Daily Addictions: Ornate.

Waiting for the Prompt

Waiting for the Prompt

This poem is sort of slapdash, for the prompt came in too late.
By the time that it was posted, I was running for the gate.
I had to grab my car keys and then the birthday cake,
lock up after the painters and one more phone call make.

It was my neighbor’s birthday. We were going out to lunch
and to hear some mariachis with a most congenial bunch.
We feasted on tamales and chiles en nogada
in between our lively rounds of “Yada, yada, yada.”

Movies, books and U.F.O.’s were topics of our pleasure,
and then of course some politics were thrown in for good measure.
All in all a lovely time with friends, music and food,
and a few rounds of tequila to lighten up our mood.

When I got home, I checked it out, but still no prompt was posted.
and that is why, my friends, the tardy prompter’s being roasted.
“Prompt” means “on time,” I think that we all have to agree.
So I find the fact it’s “late” to be the final irony!


(All meant in good fun.) The RDP prompt today, too late to be in my combined poem, was “slapdash.”  Here is their link:

Water Fetish

Water Fetish

From my time of birth up to my years septuagenarian,
if it were my choice, I always chose to be riparian.
I hate the sound of silence, for I find it rather static,
but I love the sound of water, be it tidal or erratic.

A little water rushing by or falling from a height
is lulling to my hearing and pleasing to my sight.
It contributes to my happiness, creates a sense of calm—
a sensory diversion that serves me as a balm.

So to add to my contentment, no need for feast or cake.
Just plant me by a river or a waterfall or lake.
All I need is just a little water in my view.
If you want to make me happy, just provide the H20!!!

Click on any photo to enlarge all.

The prompt words today are erratic, feast, riparian and contribute. Here are the links:

Stemming the Rage

Street Mural on wood viewed in Guanajuato


Stemming the Rage

To seed grace and stability in these tempestuous times,
try not to retaliate in your tweets and rhymes.
Simply state the truth as you continue to perceive it.
If you do not stir angst you’re less likely to receive it.
Choose not to participate when small minds rant and bray.
Just find a saner audience you’re likelier to sway.
This isn’t always easy. Ghandi led the way,
and he moved the British at the end of day.

Whether Trump or Kim Jong-un, Hitler or Pol Pot 
could be swayed by passive resistance? Perhaps, or perhaps not.
But surely there are other souls—even ones of note
who might be nudged to change their minds and even change their vote.
If you can curb your anger and respond with facts and sanity,
perhaps you’ll find a route to chip away at their inanity.
Please take with a grain of salt this lesson that I preach.
Actually, I must admit, it’s me I’m trying to teach.


Word prompts for today were: grace, stability, tempestuous and retaliate. Here are the links: