Category Archives: Poetry

Poems in many categories: Loss, NaPoWriMo

Suspicious Coloring

                          Suspicious Coloring

If those of foreign ethnicity around our sacred nation
are being questioned over their passport identification,
are others far more grandiose being questioned, too?
Are those of nordic extraction locked up in a human zoo?
If chain migration must end now, will the extraction rope
extend around the family of our grand misanthrope?
Or is there exemption for folks of wide renown?
Are these rules only extended over people who are brown?

Prompts today are nation, ethnicity, identify, grandiose and rope

Raw Truth

Raw Truth

Some think this holy gift of life should be lived as austere,
while others make a game of it, maintaining that it’s clear
that life’s to be enjoyed in all its possibilities,
and so as long as no one’s harmed, you should live it as you please.

Still others think life consists of all that you can glean.
Leaving nothing for the others, they pick the landscape clean.
Prone to public office, they’re suffused with artifice,
content that the dull masses will not see their avarice.

Considering their blindness, do folks get what they deserve—
growing ever leaner as the masters that they serve—
the very ones who should serve them get rich and ever fatter—
focused on the truth that they’re the only ones who matter?

The prompts today are clear, holy, austere and game.

Secrets of a Warm Climate

Secrets of a Warm Climate

After a hot afternoon,
a sudden rising chill wind
blows his canvas from the wall.

The pool, filled with the blood of the volcano,
is still hot soup warm after twelve hours of cooling. I slide into it,
all others in the house and neighborhood asleep or abed.
Strings of papyrus blown into the water
catch at me like cobwebs as I swim through viscous water.
I comb them from the water with my fingers
and launch them poolside.

Gentle music floats up from the town,
backup to the repetitious trilling of the nightingale
and the far-off Who? Who? Of an owl.
The crack of the house settling into night.
The wind singing in a different voice from every palm tree
under a clear sky filled with stars.
Air cool on my face,
water hot around my body— its currents like silken whips,
I try to remember sensuality with someone else attached to it.

Moving forward and back, then in circles around the kidney-shaped edge,
I am drunk on the night, making my own romance,
knowing that what matters, now that past loves are over,
is not sharp words or all the craziness of love’s endings,
but instead—the first yearning wishes met impossibly
by the answer in another’s eyes and voice, then mouth and hands.
What is important is that sweet pain of wanting—
the answering pain of wanting back.

All the fairytales of new love:
tropical sand or mountain canyons echoing the call
of goats and the answer of goatherds,
a first sight across a smoky room,
hearing a poet’s words about a past love
and, knowing that power could be directed towards me,
dizzy in love before I even met him.

His death or love dying first is not what it is important to remember—
just those days where love was everything that mattered.
And in this life gained after those first vanished loves,
”Send me a sign,” I say, looking to the stars.
And there is a flash, immediate.
Not a falling star,
but one shooting upward in a quick bursting flash of light.


Here is the prompt. And here is what others wrote for the prompt: dVerse Poets: Secret.

Once by Ice and Once by Fire


Once by Ice and Once by Fire

Once by ice and now by fire, erasing her mistakes,
Mother Earth must wonder how many times it takes
to finally get the world planned right, for once the lot is cast,
how can she watch sufficiently  a planet that’s so vast?

Her hope is that but rarely she must resort to extinction
to control a species risen to such great distinction
that it uses up more resources than it can provide.
How many times must she restore a planet that has died?

She casts a might yawn and then breathes fire once again—
cancelling out excesses that they can’t see as sin.
Caught in a clinch as they resist all means of education,
perhaps the only answer is mankind’s eradication.


IMG_0970 (1)


Prompt words today are extinct, rarely, clinch, vast and hope.

Cutting Loose

Cutting Loose

When daylight breaks, bring in the paper
and over breakfast, plan a caper.
Crazy plans are fun to bake up.
Do your nails, put on some makeup.
Call in sick. Forsake your labors
and boggle all your friends and neighbors
by doing something crazy wild.
Reconnect your inner child.

A vital element in fun
is do not stop until you’re done.
Paint your house a vivid hue.
Then why stop there. Why not paint you?
Go for a boat ride, buy a bike.
Buy hiking boots and take a hike.
Wear funny clothes. Get a tattoo.

No end to things that you could do.

Turn your hems up, cut your hair.
(No one can see what’s under there.)
Take Santa Claus out on a date.
Most months he’s bored. Don’t hesitate!
When you are letting loose, please just
only do the things you must.
It’s vital that at least just once
you dare to play the fool or dunce

and take the chance to try to binge
and do what makes the whole world cringe.
It’s fun sometimes to be unique
in what we do or how we speak—
to be that person standing out
with anything that you can flout.
Life’s too short to always do
what the world expects of you!!!


Prompt words today were daylight, paper, boggle, vital and bake.

Fitting In


Image by Pierrick Van Troost on Unsplash. Used by permission

Fitting In

He held his campaign kick-off in a colossal yurt,
clad in plaid Bermuda shorts and a rubber shirt.
His children were unruly, but his wife was slim and perky.
She dispensed campaign buttons that were colorful and quirky.
On them he wore colossal shoes, big pants and a red nose,
but she explained the reason for his eccentric clothes.
Why he wore the clownish clothes and the painted face
was to even out the odds for the senate race.
He wanted to fit in, he said, with others in the Senate
and look like all the other clowns who were sadly in it.
He won out by a landslide—an open and shut case—
proving once again that any fool can win a race.

Prompt words for today are shut, rubber, campaign, quirk and shirt.

Confluent Fidelity

Confluent Fidelity

It’s true that she was lusty, outlandish and gregarious,
with her behavior more or less branded as nefarious.
Her dance in life was often described as arabesque,
and when it came to marriages, her tale was Kafkaesque.
She mixed up her chronology, forgetting which came first.
Divorce or remarriage? She knew not which was worst:

bigamy or loneliness. She simply couldn’t stand
to be without a husband readily at hand.
She often stood with tearful eyes before a judge’s desk—
seemingly an angel, albeit, picaresque.
Somehow when it came to love, right and wrong conflated.
True love made her dizzy. She wound up addlepated.

A comely wrinkling of her brows, a pout, a tear, a sigh
and the judge forgave her. After all, he was a guy.
A simple tiny slap upon her unrepentant wrist
and a heartfelt promise that she would desist
from practicing plural marriage was always the decree—
guaranteeing her misdeeds in perpetuity.
So went her personal history. It seems that she was fated
to spend all her romantic life being  inundated
with husband after husband—one or two at a time—
for courtships left her weak-kneed and weddings were sublime.
Honeymoons her speciality, she found no fault with life
until it came to living it as just one man’s wife!


Photo by Alvin Mahmudov on Unsplash, used with permission


Prompt words today are gregarious, zest, personal, conflate and desk.