Tag Archives: #FOWC

The Beard


I’ve always loved beards.  When my husband Bob shaved his off as a surprise after 12 years of marriage, I didn’t recognize him when he met me at the door. I thought it was a friend of ours. We went out to a party that night and I introduced him to our friends, who had also never seen him without a beard, as my brother. No one caught on all night long until we started close-dancing.  We got some strange looks before we finally admitted our little joke.  He grew the beard back!!!



Trouble Crossing

Trouble Crossing

Fjords, ravines and crevasses are hard enough to cross,
but when it comes to intersections, I am at a loss.
I excel at parallel parking and my merging is just fine,
but when negotiating stop lights, I simply do not shine.

Perhaps it is the colors that I find distracting.
There’s something about yellow that I find too exacting.
Red is most definitive. I know I shouldn’t go.
And green is also clearly meant as a sign to go.

But yellow’s indecisive. Should I go or should I stay?
Should I linger or should I be upon my way?
This solitary factor is what makes me balk.
As a means of transportation, it is true I’d rather walk!!!! 

The prompt words are color, parking, fjord and solitary. Here are the links:


A Sedative Soliloquy

A Sedative Soliloquy

He was a jovial companion, but his constant burbling ways
inevitably put folks in a protective daze.
So although I’m sure his ego assured him they were rapt,
in fact it was illusion. All too frequently, they napped.


Prompt words today (actually, yesterday’s as I’m running late) are burble, illusion, jovial and inevitable. Here are the links:

Futile Advice

Futile Advice

Truck trials are enigmatic. I just can’t see their appeal.
Big boys ruining their toys? I want to say, “Get real!”
If one of your life pleasures is to buy things and deplete them,
just buy some triple-decker cones and take them out and eat them!
It’s bound to be much cheaper and it makes a lot less noise,
but I know that you won’t listen. After all, boys will be boys.


The prompt words today are truck, trial, enigmatic and deplete. Here are the links:

Anniversary Blunder

Anniversary Blunder

It was an anniversary present for which he must atone
unless he wants to spend next anniversary alone.
When she opened up her gift, the lone words she could muster
were a string of sputterings, followed up by, “Buster!
is this the best  that you could do—a sander, saw and drill?
Shopping at a hardware store’s not anyway to thrill
a wife lusting for jewelry or even an appliance
more within the likelihood of strengthening our alliance!”
He said, “I thought a contrast might bring a little zing
to our romance much more unique than a diamond ring.
Then he led her to the closet and opened up the door
to see her brand new shoe rack built from ceiling to the floor.
New shelves and custom cabinet with jewelry racks and chest,
and then he opened up a drawer to reveal the best
surprise of all the others—left there for her to see—
a note that said, “Another gift. The tools were for me
to build this brand new closet that you’ve hinted at for years.
Here it is, with all my love, admittedly in arrears!
Look in the bottom jewelry drawer if this is not enough.
You’ll find a box there nestled next to your other stuff.”
And there she found the ring she’d wanted, nestled in among
all the gifts he’d bought her since the years when they were young.
Then she had a revelation, embarrassed for her huff,
and said, “Oh dear, you shouldn’t have. The tools were enough!”

The prompt words for today are contrast, hardware, atone and muster.  Here are the links:

An Ex-Pat’s Credo

Click on any photo to enlarge all.  The Poem “An Ex-Pat’s Credo” follows the photos.

An Ex-Pat’s Credo

Some may think my generation’s recent mass migration 
to be a “giving up” on life—a certain violation.
That rubric that we stay engaged to ease our children’s lives—
to witness births of babies (then their twos, threes, fours and fives)
may not be the paradigm we choose when we are older.
Some of us want changes, and some of us are bolder.

We want to spend remaining years discovering and delving.
Do you think it’s selfish to continue with our “selving?”
Families are wonderful and we love them well,
but parents can’t be always living by the bell.
Once a child is  raised and off on their next adventure,
their parents have not signed any articles of indenture. 

They, too, can now be off to see what else their life may hold,
and though that path’s not right for all, before they’re very old
they might desire a warmer place or country that is new,
but  what they choose to leave behind is certainly not you.
They’ll carry you in hearts and minds, and they’ll still hold you dear.
They’ll Skype you and they’ll Facebook. They’ll visit every year.

They’ll be there for graduations, celebrations and each birth.
They’ll share your family’s traumas, their successes and their  mirth. 
But they won’t be waiting at home for you to call,
for the children to find time for them between school and football
and proms and camp and movies and parties with their friends,
for they well remember that the schedule never ends!

See this as rehearsal for the day your kids will go 
off to other places to learn and change and grow.
You’ll wish them well and though you’re sad, will send them to their fate.
and then perhaps decide there’s more than kids to educate.
You’ll then be free to concentrate on new states of existence—
free we hope as we’ve been from their loud insistence

that you spend the whole rest of your life putting them first
no matter what your own dreams are, no matter how you thirst
to see what there is left in life, perhaps, like us, to travel
not through a wish to leave behind, not seeking to unravel,
but rather like two busy bees intent upon their hive,
demonstrating by their acts that they are still alive!

The prompt words today are migration, violation, rubric (an established rule, tradition, or custom) and concentrate.  Here are the links:

Office Courtship


Office Courtship

He found her shy and taciturn and not a little quaint.
She found him impetuous and lacking in restraint.
That personal space she guarded he invaded every day.
Her solo act he tried to crash, yet still she ran away.

He brought her flowers and chocolates. He courted her with rigor,
and yet the space between them seemed only to get bigger.
He had run out of wooing room. His prospects were too dim.
He felt that he had gone too far out that proverbial limb.

His thoughts that he could win her were just a wishful whim.
And so at last, he must give up. The lass was just too prim.
He did not seek her company. He did not text or call.
He gave a mere polite “Hello,” when they met in the hall.

Her flower vase sat empty. No chocolates in her dish.
It seemed that he had given her, finally, her wish.
She checked her phone charge. It was fine.
She waited for his pleas to dine

or see a film or to go dancing.
More and more, friends found her glancing
down the hallway, and they guessed
what she looked for, so they pressed

her for an answer as they queried
about why she always tarried
in the coffee room when she
usually brought her tea

in a thermos from her house.
Why she wore that low-cut blouse,
why she seemed a bit distracted
and when he passed, she overacted.

They all knew that overall
she’d gone too far to build a wall.
They told her if she wanted him,
she had to make that wall a scrim

and turn her light on from inside

to throw her solo act aside
and show him who she really was.
It became the office buzz

then, how the one who’d been the quarry
set her cap to woo and marry
one she’d formerly eschewed—
thinking him too brash and rude.

And this is how she turned the tide.
She bought a card and wrote inside,
“Faint heart never won fair maid,”
bought flowers and chocolate and paid

a string quartet to serenade him
and by doing so, she made him
once more resume all his wooing,
add his billing to her cooing.

And thus goes office romance.
Fellows given half a chance
will resume what they once started
and if they are not weak-hearted

wind up with the prize they sought,
forgetting that the one who fought
the romance and sought to repeal it
was the one to finally seal it!


The photo I used to illustrate this poem is of my nephew Jeff and his wife Julie.  They are the parents of Ryan, my nephew who recently visited. The prompt words today are quaint, personal, taciturn and solo, and here are the links: