Tag Archives: poetry

This will be the newest year…

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elf

‘Overwhelmed’ looms on the flashing billboards of my irises
‘Uncertainty…’ notches tighter the belt of the world
I’ve yet to decide on an acceptable version of heaven
Still, I must not give into ‘the unfinished’ of the past newest year
This will be the newest year!

My mettle must leap beyond obeyance of previous resolutions
Fundamental confusion must not stymie my goodwill tenacity
‘Where to begin’ roadblocks must not unseat me
On or off, I am driver, I am driver, I am driver
In my hands, my keys, below my keys, my feet
This will be the newest year!

The impractical apparatus of time must be accepted
In the know is the ‘now’ where we all exist
nothing more
nothing less
With less one can always make more, I can always make more
This will be the newest year!

As this newest year approaches, wineries will bottle their harvests
The media and social will continue their ‘rule of sale’
quintessential chaos begets profit, profit begets stockholders,
stockholders rule the world
“We can all save someone, we cannot save everyone”
—good words for a nearby desk sticky note
This will be the newest year!

Those standing ahead of my engine might consider
I won’t have the balls to roll them
And, they are correct
There are ways around not having your goodness stolen
Fire exists in many forms, I can choose one
This will be the newest year!

Poe spoke of “long fits of sanity”
before he fell into a coma while wearing someone else’s clothes
There is something masterful in the un-mastered struggle
the purity of the un-chartered quest on a quiet day
‘Hold to heart my windmill’ I must sing each morning
as I shake the rust off my fingernails
This will be the newest year!

Wishing you all a kinder and more peaceful newest year
Here’s to 2023!

Love, am:)




Sometimes Painting a Dog

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I hope you and your loved ones are well.

I believe every human being should paint a dog. This is our Mojo. My daughter, who will miss him when she leaves in August to study Sustainability, asked me to paint his endearing face for one of her blank walls.

Mojo


I’ve been on a personal mission to improve my word and art mind while trying to avoid deep media dives. I generally remain off-politic on this site, maintaining this space as my creative respite. But there’s so much going on out there, and I worry what this world will be like for my young adult children and their future families. The heat isn’t only climate-related.

I believe every human being is entitled to:
be whoever they believe they are
love whoever they choose
A woman’s body is her own as are her personal choices
I pray my daughter has the freedom to make her own choices
(Mojo’s background was originally purple, my daughter requested more earthly tones:) )

mojo purple

I Never Gave Her a Name

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I’m a week late posting this piece in the gem of a journal that is Microfiction Monday Magazine. The micro form transforms one’s writing heart into a fluid and raw state. For me, writing micros frees my mind from the baggage it so often carries while trying to impress. I hope you stop by Microfiction Monday. And while you’re there, check out all the marvelous micros; Edition 116 boasts beautiful pieces by David Hensen and G.J. Williams!

Thank you, Microfiction Monday, for publishing and sharing I Never Gave Her a Name; sometimes words take me back to a doll-less time in my childhood.

micro monday

(image or highlighted text will transport you to Microfiction Monday Magazine)

Happy Fourth!

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She’d move along in measured paces wearing sensible shoes
from down the street by the park where Washington met Lafayette,
and the giant oak we’d worship and play kickball beneath

Each weeknight, the umber circle on her right shin commuted
from a city bus to the front door of my suburban childhood home
Sometimes I’d watch the moving bullseye grow from a dark dime to a darker quarter

Grandma and her mole would always arrive on time for supper.
And after working a full day at her paper factory job, she’d retire to her bedroom,
watch Perry Mason, smoke Parliaments and knit something for somebody

But every July 4th, after the dinner dishes were cleared away,
we’d enjoy the illuminated night sky, we’d eat red, white and blue cake,
and we’d sing Happy Birthday to Grandma

An oldie but goodie🌹 (from left to right) my grandmother, my mom, my uncle

HAPPY FOURTH!
Happy Birthday, Grandma ❤️

Oh, Little T

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t

Little T grew up at my husband’s nursery. Her coop was decimated this Wednesday. Her unique personality will be forever treasured. She reminded us all how far a little happiness can go.
I must admit, I’ve been a meat-eater in the past. Over the last few years, I’ve stopped eating red meat, but have dined on poultry. Writing this piece has inspired me to finalize the vegetarian push. My son turned vegetarian two years ago, he’s a fabulous role model.
I hope you’re all managing each day okay.