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.
thank you.
I’m so very thrilled that a new poem of mine, the buck moon, was included in this wonderful magazine!
Into the Void, is available in both print and digital form.
“Included in ‘Nine New Lit Mags You Need to Read’ as one of “nine new journals that appeared on the scene within the past couple of years and have already made their mark on the literary landscape” in the November/December 2016 Issue of Poets & Writers.”
the buck moon
there is a moon where newness emerges
from above the forward brow line
placid black almond eyes
antlers and smooth skin twist
against harder things
strip away velvet underpinnings
wrap the chilled arms of night air
forest canopy dulling shadow
dancing silhouettes vague
and
slippery
vulnerable newness pressed to pounding chests
no light
forecasting the future
suckle the dark together
escape
alone
eclipse!
he asks
why do I have to take art
I respond
art is not something you take
it is something you give
she says
I can’t even draw a stick figure
I respond
life saving fire has been born
of simple sticks
he says
I can’t do anything right
I respond
you’re in good company
now put all your wrongs together
and make beautiful art
I really like this verse (first posted last year) but not because I wrote it.
I wish we said this to young creative hearts more often.
tiger – acrylic on canvas, long ago-thank you
spectacular glow against the robust purple grey sky
leaves spiraling in wind directing thin branches to bow
unreal color drenching the landscape
but what am I seeing
not glorious
scratched pencil lines and spinning circles
into ovals with broad maws and wild fur
sharp orbs and blocky nostrils
I’m hearing too many voices
the wind is a sailing eraser
paper falling like leaves
when
almost home I look up through a tree
these
these are the falling papers
this is the wind
this is what I need to remember
this is why
I have eyes
sketches done for students to demo different animals…
picture taken when I returned home from subbing
while standing in my driveway looking up
she adored shoulder pads
tucked beneath her brassiere straps
the eighties rage
her build was delicate
not like her niece
who resembled a linebacker
if she didn’t slice the shoulder pads out of her fashion finds
Nina appreciated how the foam pieces squared-off her petite form
on her body, clothing draped as it was meant to
she had style and a talent for accessorizing
my aunt lived with grace, style and beauty
she remained dignified and lovely
even near the end
her eyes
gorgeous, dark and wide
unlike stacked boxes of jewels
and endless drawers of shoulder pads
irreplaceable gems
I miss their soft, elegant glow
still
Red Wolf
When I was little, Nina had a little fox stole that sat on the top a cushy chair in her bedroom.
Happy Birthday, Nina. Today, she would have turned 83.
Imagine our earth a giant color wheel
each of us a gorgeous dot of pigment
equal reds, equal greens, all colors equal
but we humans don’t think in terms of equal
quite as much as we should
we are alike
but ‘enjoy’ thinking otherwise
we tend to shove one another around
crash head to head
we cancel each other out
and become void
we choose to destroy our brilliance
yet
if we agreed
equal to be equal
equal reds, equal greens
if we learned to stand
side by side
what beauty there would be
on the color wheel they call this complimenting
on the earth we’d call it peace
I can’t think of a more beautiful, earthly color coexistent than a parrot
parrot in Prisma pencil done around 2002
opposing colors on the color wheel are called complimentary because when placed side by side they brighten, when these same colors are mixed in equal measure, they create a neutral or gray
I am writing this for my friend
who thinks she’s lost her words
who thinks her words
are trapped beneath rocks
who believes she doesn’t possess the thirst
to move those dry mountains
my dear friend
needs to know
her words, those languid thoughts
the beautiful ones under the rocks
will seep into the rich black soil
decompose
reform
then be carried onward by industrious insect and
cyclical underground element
until they flow into jostling aquifers
cascading into wild rivers
roaming up as sparkling wells
into crystal waters that feed bubbling fountains
in thirst she will sip
and those wet words
her words, will quench her imagination
saturate her parched muse
and her pen will flow once again
with the beauty
she thought she’d lost
somewhere along the way
Turquoise Eyes
Dedicated to my dear friend, Deb who has done nothing but encourage me to keep writing even when I believe (as I do often), I am anything but a writer…
he doesn’t care
he doesn’t care about crowns
he doesn’t know he is a king
his only kingdom is survival
we attached a silly moniker
for his magnificence
like we determine specie classification
all listed below us
we name each
for the natural beauty, grace and strength
we covet
we only become great with great effort
not like them
who fly, leap, run, swim
in a way that makes us
desire trophies
we manufacture superiority
how we love roaring
we are the rulers of this earthly kingdom
you are only, King of the Jungle
because that’s what we named you…
drawn with prisma pencils a few years back
anntogether 