Category Archives: Poetry

World Map Challenge

I recently stumbled upon Ray Not Bradbury’s World Map Challenge.  Ok, I wasn’t nominated, I missed the dates for the challenge, and I’m not nominating anyone specifically.

BUT, Ray is always saying bend the rules. So I am 😊

The Rules:
1. Choose your dream spot destination (never been before!).
2. Explain shortly – why would you like to visit the place? (you can add photos)
3. Pick any literary hero or author and create a story, flash or poem about visiting that dream-destination.
4. The style and the genre of the writing – any. Link to the blog that nominated you. Bend the rules if you have to…
5. Spread the challenge: nominate 3-5 blogs.

Bora Bora is on the top of my list for dream destinations.  Why?  Just look at the pictures. Something magical about those huts on the ocean.

Bora Bora 2

As for a literary hero, humm, I don’t know if I have just one.  I’m going to bend that rule too and not choose 😊 But I did write a poem about going there.

A New Beginning

Aqua-blue, crystal clear water,
light sea breeze,
slight taste of salt in the air,
slow rhythmic waves,
lapping on the shoreline,
in tune with your heartbeat.
Crisp, rich, dry wine,
sparkling eyes of the person sitting next to you . . .


Anyone want to go ????


Nominations:  I nominate everyone.  I’m sure everyone has a dream destination.

Photos:  I found these photos on the Internet, obviously since I’ve never been there.  The photos were in the public domain and I was unable to find an attribution for them.

Bora Bora 3


Long, white, flowing dress.

Auburn hair,

hazel eyes.

Delicately stepping into the formless haze.

Breath quickening.


Each gentle, awakening nudge.

A dizzying array of silver particles streak across the gray sky.

They dance across her cheeks,

lightly brush her lips,

soak deeply into her neck,

massage the small of her back,

caress her thighs,

stroke the length of her legs.

Cleansing, freeing.

Releasing her from her thoughts.

Her dress now clinging tightly,

taking her form.

Smooth and streaming.

A walking sculpture.

Luminous and divine.



Woman Rain 3 + Resized+Crop

Photo:  I found this photo on the Internet in the public domain.  I could find no further attribution for it.

Published !  Thrilled and honored that my poem was published by The Urban Howl on August 16, 2018, under the title “Release Yourself From Your Thoughts – Be Luminous & Devine.

Have You Ever Known Someone?

To be able to complete someone’s thoughts,

dance together in their mind,

caress their heart,

and see their soul through their eyes.

This is truly knowing someone.

Have you ever known someone?


Painted Ladies


Feature Photo: I found this photo on the Internet in the public domain. I could find no proper attribution for it.

Butterfly Photo: A couple of Painted Lady butterflies nectaring-up in the Midwest.  I added the butterfly image for a couple of reasons.  One is that is shows a “couple” like the feature image and duality is the theme.  But intertwined duality – two becoming one.

With duality, we’ve moved beyond a singularity.  It is the quality of having two parts to the whole.  Metaphysically speaking, it is the contrasts – negative versus positive; good versus evil; light versus dark; material versus spiritual; consciousness versus unconsciousness; Ying versus Yang; male versus female.

Numerologically speaking, the number 2 represents feminine, dreams and cooperation.

The butterflies, symbolically, represent transition, shapeshifting, and the dance of joy.

When two hearts come together as one the polarities merge.  A beautiful transition occurs as each half brings out the beauty in the whole.  Making that true connection is a rare thing and it results in a dance of joy.  Bonds that cannot be broken.  Not over space, time, or even lifetimes.

Waters of Compassion

The sound of cold, clear water echoes in my mind.

A memory long forgotten now covered in dust.

A canyon wall,

stair steps of umber shale,

fluorescent green lichens climbing,

trying to reach the golden sun.

Sapphire blue torrents crest the lip of a rock arch,

bridging the earth to the sky.

Shimmering water, piercing air,

dancing in slow motion over the falls.

Drops hover, nuzzle the cliff – briefly.


collapsing into ripples,

atop a deep, cool pool.

A single lotus flower rises from the sand beneath.

White petals opening,

trimmed in violet.

Painted with compassion from another realm.




Lotus Flower - Nelumbo Nucifera - B2

Photos: From a trip to Hawaii 🙂

Dreaming of You

There is a place

where I have gone

when I am dreaming.

And it has been very rare.

Where I know I am dreaming

and there is no difference

between me the dreamer

and me the dreamed.

Who is to say which is more real.

And I can choose where I wake up

in my bed

where this body is sleeping

or in the dreamscape

where I am experiencing

On that plane of existence.

And tonight

if I have that choice,

I choose to be where ever you may be

because I know

you will be in that dream

Where ever it may be . . .


Photo: A landscape takes on more color and becomes a dream, but the image is just as real.  It was all a matter of perception and expanding our senses.

An Oil Painting for the One I Love

Sitting in the quiet,
contemplating the nothingness that surrounds me.
Imaging a different world,
one with color, with fragrance, tasting, touching.

An oil painting for the one I love.

I see the greens, yellows, oranges, and reds of autumn.
An old farm road, slightly overgrown, bending gently with the breeze, contouring an old barn, faded wood, peeling paint.

The character of a grandfather with aged wisdom.

A Great Horned Owl sings in the distance,
a soulful melody that echoes across the nearby lake.
It repeats at a slightly higher pitch.

A pause, an answer – this one lower and softer.

The synchrony begins as they call, urgency growing.
Powerful yellow eyes take flight and the couple unites,
the tone softens, is warm, in harmony, complete . . .


Great Horned Owl - 6 - 25th Nov + Crop


Photos:  A Midwestern sunset on the fly – one-handed, while driving with the cell phone.  And a Great Horned Owl sits majestically, the master of this territory, calling to its mate.

Published !  So grateful to have had this poem picked up in the Fall Issue of Halcyon Days.  If you have haven’t seen this online magazine, you should really check it out.  It is beautifully done!  


A person can live without food for 40 days,

Without water for 4 days, and

Without oxygen for only 4 minutes.

But how long can one live with a broken heart?

Or a fractured soul . . .


Photo: I scramble to capture the crescent moon as it’s setting behind the mountains, but the frenzied movement fractures it into a dizzying array – spectral slivers of the whole.  Like a shattered lens, the fragments each project a slightly different refraction.

Sometimes we must pause and re-center, collect, compose, take a deep breath and try again.  The view may still be a bit fuzzy, but we can reintegrate the frame and begin to bring the totality into focus.  But there may still be scars.

Crescent Moon - Setting



I hiked deep in the forest today,

Into the canyon.

Nature’s beauty all around me.


Mountain streams.  Pines and Firs,

Mixed with Sycamore, Willows, and Cottonwoods.


Loamy earth, perfumed wildflowers.


Colors dance in the wind.

The fusion of an artist’s palette.

En plein air impressions.


My body groans.

But my mind belongs here,

On this winding trail.

Surrounded by silence.


A young buck passes in isolation.

We nod to each other,

        The face in the mirror staring back at me . . .



Photo: A whitetail deer parallels me in the forest; the buck mirroring my steps.


** My prose was just published in The Urban Howl under the title: “I am Broken – Only to be Reintegrated Anew.”  It is wonderful to be a part of this inspiring publication !


I am broken.

Not in a bad way.

Not in a way that needs to be “fixed.”

Mangled, crushed, fragmented, contorted, pulverized, disintegrated,

But only to be reintegrated anew.


It has happened before.

So many times no memory can capture.


I do not wish to lose what is unique and pure,

The spark.

There are parts of light and wisdom I wish to regain,

Once held,

Having slipped away,

Under the continual weight of the illusion surrounding us.

Stripped away by those that try to consume us,

To break our hearts,

To kill our spirits.


No one is coming to rescue us.

No clichés with meaning can solve any problems.

No platitudes of value provide any answers.

No therapist can fix such fractures.


But there is within us a type of magick that can be reached,

If we can find it.

To break out, cut free, re-form, start again,

With clarity of vision,

Led by heart and soul.


And not waste a second but,


Living every moment here and now. . .



Photo:  Some cottonwood trees stretch to the sky and the photo editor turns it surreal 🙂