Saturday, December 3, 2016


It's so cold outside. My fingers are tingling even with woolen gloves on. In spite of this I want to be here, walking. My dog rushes ahead of me sniffing at every track in the snow. Hoping for prey. What would she do if she caught something, I wonder. The trees are talking to me, groaning and snapping even though there is little wind. Perhaps it's from the frost. The snow is soft and billows up around my feet like a heavy mist. The dog pushes her nose through a drift for the thrill of it. I hold my camera steady and take a picture as the dog waits for me on the next hill.

It's a long way home
The snow covers our tracks now
The dog watches me

Reposted for 
I've chosen the cold without the memories, but the haibun in itself is a memory
so perhaps that will count :-)

Saturday, October 22, 2016


Cool, cool
rush of pain
a red haze in darkness
shadows passing
a song
the ticking of a clock
church bell
cool, cool
rush of wind
there again
never understood
cool, cool
shadows clinging
leaves rustling
arms encircling
cool, cool
day of the dead
final reckoning


Written for

Monday, October 3, 2016

Gone Again

The summer angst is over. What would flower has bloomed; what would be eaten
has been consumed. Cabin dwellers and woodland creatures all happy in their own way. The leaves are magnificent in their dying. The  air crisp as temperatures fall. Gardens are bedded down with a layer of mulch, and bulbs buried to sleep until a new Spring’s blooming. She sits and admires it all, is grateful for all, is faith-filled again, for another season.

Flowers have grown old
Falling petals making mulch
Her pathway follows


Written for

Wednesday, September 28, 2016


Who left her there?
In a country where
everyone speaks her language
but not to her
Invisible in the crowd
of the living
Against her will
her children suffer
Tears are not a cure
Frustration reigns amid
the chaos left by her
failure to reach out
"They" cannot offer solace
without knowledge
of need


Written for Promp Night
When Shades of loss weave with pattern of madness

Friday, September 9, 2016


To a stranger
she appears lost
seen struggling through
the dense underbrush of
their perceived doubt
she seems confused
out in the open
away from the protection
of supporting friends
she is vulnerable
so they thought
but unknown to them
she has a map
her course is clearly marked
a crooked line highlighted
with a black pen
her destination marked
with a red star


Reposted for

Thursday, September 1, 2016

The Picture

I see him now
his face an image on the page
this incident which moves us
to yet another stage
of knowing who we are,
no secrets anymore,
thus revealed to me the packaging
of the man I would adore
This man whose gaze directs
itself at me
    in forthright manner just as he
     would be
     In all our interaction large or small
     and all incidents to date
     I can recall

     I move to him somewhat subdued
     He is revealed to me in every mood
     In reality, not fantasy, I am now set
     and thus allow myself not one regret.

     With faith and fortitude we will progress
     and live this story line with smiles
     and much finesse
     with joy and laughter, tears and fun
     we will move together through this run.


Written for:

Prompt Nights – A photograph is but a memory in raw format

Note: This is an old poem and I couldn't find the photo it is
describing. But this handsome gentleman will do  :-)


Friday, August 19, 2016


She hears a child
crying in the night

she lies still, listening

perhaps a cat
mating or fighting
their eerie calls
float in the air

Perhaps the wind
through the old chimney chutes

An animal
caught in a trap

Strange sensations

Her body quivers

There again, there again

The room spins

She reaches out into darkness

Nothing to cling to


she touches her face

touches tears


Written for:

Sunday, August 14, 2016


What is real?
If there is anything at all
it might be found in thoughts
of wishes unfulfilled or
scattered days of old
or a future ready to unfold
and when we are aware if
we are bold
we can always go
make those wishes


Written for

Saturday, July 30, 2016

Only Dreaming

She is the one haunting
            and the haunted
            the chalice and the wine,
            the lover
            and the beloved,
            the singer and the song
Because he comes to her
                only in dreams
                she feels their roles merge,
                separate, merge again,
                their energy moves, mingles,
                passes away
A spiral downward into an abyss,
                a deep cavern
                echoing with the sounds
                of joy


Reposted for

Prompt Nights – In dreams we enter a world that’s entirely our own – [23]

Saturday, July 23, 2016


In this world of illusion
I tread lightly
leaving no footprints
no scent to be picked up
by marauding packs of
coniferous beasts
hungry for conquest

I lie down in tall, sweet
smelling, blue grass and listen
to the sound of the wind
as it moves over my hiding place
touching me gently
like a mother's kiss on
her child's cheek

I lie quietly feeling the
earth beneath me breathing
with an ancient rhythm
a subtle sweet massage
constant and penetrating

I feel safe


Reposted for

Prompt Nights - On Popular Demand - The Hidden Realm

Sunday, July 17, 2016


I am surprised by
the signs of aging
Looking at my hands
I see those of others
who are dead or gone
The signs of withering
the texture of old parchment
no amount of moisture cream
can take away


Friday, July 15, 2016


The knives are sharp
and sometimes cut deep
making angry wounds that
heal as ruts in the road
of lives sometimes pieced
together with scotch tape
and hope springs eternal
again and again
as each day dawns
and possibilities abound
for changes to be made
inroads into learning
that although spirit is infinite
the planet
and its relationships
are not


For Prompt Nights - Hate's a parasite that rots the Soul

Saturday, July 2, 2016

Frenetic Two

Oh frenetic two
where are you?
Flown away out
into the wilderness
of blue
T'would be such
a rich sorrow
in some distant
to hang once again
on such
a sweet rack
of pain.


Reposted from 2013

Saturday, June 25, 2016


Surrounded by the mist of morning
I sit on deck of the "Matthew"
sipping coffee from a tin mug
wrapped in a hand towel to
protect my hands from burning
but thin enough for me to feel
the heat penetrating to the palms
of my hands
I hear the sound of small splashes
as the early birds dive beneath the
bay's surface for their morning meal
and once in awhile their muffled
messages reach me
sweet sounds in the mist
As the boat rocks me like a cradle
I am at peace and unhurried
Until the sun burns away our cover
the bay, the "Matthew", the birds
and me
are content
to be


Reposted for
Prompt Nights – Summer sets upon earth’s bosom bare –

Monday, June 20, 2016

Rest in Dreams

I rest in dreams
sleep interrupted
by other lives
Sometimes drifting in the ocean
floating calmly on an endless sea
Sometimes lovers catch me out
oh the bliss of limbs entwined
wanton and careless
unmindful of care
Nightmares too
An angry sea engulfs me
carries me away against my will
Yet somewhere in my heart I know
this too, 
a temporary life
and I will be
let go


for Prompt Nights

Wednesday, June 15, 2016

Moon Walk

We walk the summer path, hand in hand. The moon is full; it's ancient face peers down at us. Watching. The field around us is luminescent; silhouetted critters scurry as we come near. We are silent; our world is silent; on the precipice of change. It's to be our last night together. You have been deployed.

Silver moon waning
all below is quickening
leaving life to chance


Inspired by Sanaa at

Monday, May 30, 2016

Nellie's Dream

When Nellie was a young girl she loved to visit the rose arbor in her grandmother's garden. She would sit quietly amidst the sweet fragrant flowers and imagine herself grown and beautiful. Her folded parasol beside her, her gloves folded in her lap, the tiny toes of her laced boots showing from beneath her long skirt. He would walk up the path, so handsome in his riding clothes, and sit down beside her on the bench, accepting her extended hand and gently kissing  the tips of her fingers.

Scent of seduction
Creating dreams within dreams
Power of roses


A haibun
Inspired by a sneak peak
from Sanaa for Prompt Nights
on FaceBook

Sunday, May 29, 2016


At last
The storm is spent
The thunder and lightning 
I walk out
into a fine summer rain
that feels warm on my face
like tears shed 
during storms of
another kind


Inspired by