September is Sad

crumpled post-it note
the first of my classmates dies
a shock to us all
I forget how to spell her last name
it seems all our names have changed

RIP Ellen Doherty


It has been two years since the first of my friends, the first of my classmates has died. I know that I’ve been blessed, but it is still crazy to think that we have already lost a friend. She didn’t make it to 30. September is a sad month for me, I have had a lot of people die during this month. I seriously relate to that song “Wake me up when September ends.”

purslane flower,rose moss with white blooms,tiny flowers,small white flower,


Small Stones Poetry in a Scarlet Ribbon

wrap a tourniquet
around my throat
keep poisonous words from flowing
bind my hands
with scarlet ribbon
keep destruction from reigning
blind me with
the light of the noonday sun
silence me
with the sound of music
even if the piano is out of tune
play it until my fit is over
protect me from myself
June 2016


2016 was a really stressful year for me. So this is not dated and was almost forgotten. It is free verse, which I haven’t been doing much of. I am beginning to like structure in my poems.

flowers, shadows, light pink, carnation,sunlight,bouquet of flowers,

Adventures in Blogging

dakota canyon,the old west,

The End of the Adventure

You led me to the wilderness
you said there’d be an adventure
There was nothing but desert
You left me with an empty canteen
you left me to die of thirst
I guess death is an adventure



I think I am getting confused about what I have shared and haven’t shared to the blog because people on Twitter interact with my small stones poetry and I remember that people have read a poem, but forget that I haven’t shared it to the blog. So here is a poem that I believe is new to the blog. I will be sharing several of my short poems soon, I hope none of them are reshared, but if they are oh well. That is part of running a blog, a Twitter account, writing randomly in virtual notebooks, and trying to keep a child alive and thriving, while also trying to keep up with social media so I won’t be out of the loop on the new jokes. Give me a like if you know the feeling!

Recollections of a Broken Back

Recollections of a Broken Back

Broken backs march to the next task
Wondering how they got so broken
On this path that was supposed to be so easy
This path, littered with pain
The birds sing the same year after year
Their songs don’t seem to change
So why am I aging
Why am I feeling the need to sit down
I feel the years clog my veins
The misadventures stretch across my skin
Shiny speed bumps to slow sensual thought
Where are all of the fine things
This broken back was supposed to bring me


I wish I had dated my older poems. I thought that if I didn’t date them they would seem more mysterious. What do you think? Do you date your poems? Do you share the date when you share them?


Clouded Haiku


moon during the day,full moon in daytime,


bright white moon
covered by gray clouds
a death clouds my week




I’m actually having a good week, I just wanted to share this haiku. Sorry it’s a day late, baseball season is in full swing and I am loving it.

PAD Challenge Day 24

poetry month photo for public use

photo curtesy of

    Giving In
The thought
  E X P A N D S
Inside of mE
  like a  h o l l o w  point bullet
the fortitude
       from my flesh.
dissolves like paper iN tHe RaIn.
Any hope for me
April 26, 2018
This is shape poetry. The prompt was to write an anti-form poem. I hope this counts. The first half of this is a line that I have been trying to use for over 2 years now. Tell me what you think, I would really like some feedback on this one!

PAD Challenge Day 23

  Crossing the Line
there are some lines our minds can’t handle crossing
some borders need high fences to keep us out
it’s natural to wander like the tiger
but you may need both claw and tooth to get out
when you cross into the wrong territory
knowing where the traps are is vital but when
you’re crossing into unknown territory
it is all guesswork and hypotheses now 


poetry month photo for public use

photo curtesy of


The prompt was to write about an action. I had written the first line in a comment on a news story that was very messed up and decided to write about crossing lines today. This is a Rispetto poem, I am really liking this form.

What do you think? Leave me a like and a comment so I know you were here!


PAD Challenge Day 21

    In the Water
I stepped in before I realized that this is
the black water of a swamp, not the brown of river water.
I agreed to cross a gentle river but this is
the black water of a swamp, not the brown of river water.
The mud sucks and pulls at me here in 
the black water of a swamp, not the brown of river water.
the stench of death is in the air as I slosh through
the black water of a swamp, not the brown of river water.
I hoped for green or blue water, I can’t believe I got
the black water of a swamp, not the brown of river water.
I can’t believe I wondered so far from home to
the black water of a swamp, not the brown of river water.
They say the alligator hides better in 
the black water of a swamp, not the brown of river water.
I’m already wet, there’s no going back, I’m in
the black water of a swamp, not the brown of river water.




poetry month photo for public use

photo curtesy of


So I felt inspired today and wrote poetry for the other days of the PAD Challenge. What did you write today? Don’t be shy! Share in the comments!
This is a chant poem. The prompt from Robert Lee Brewer was to write a danger poem.

PAD Challenge Day 14

poetry month photo for public use

photo curtesy of

  Twitter News

wanting a
lazy day
waking up

open phone
read the news
feel panic

boasting men
drag our boys
off to war


Today’s prompt was to write a report poem. My mind immediately went to today’s news. I planned to have a fun day. I woke up to find my seeing-eye glasses nearly broke, and Twitter Moments telling me that Trump launched bombs at Syria last night and no one mentioned it to me, or in my feeds. At least I got a decent night’s sleep. I must be getting old. Instead of insisting we launch bombs and shout down any and every injustice in the world, I was perfectly content to shore up our borders and just sit here quietly, as a country. I knew so many young men who went to Iraqi and Afghanistan and came back with deep scars. I don’t want to do this again, I just don’t.

It’s not cowardice, it’s weariness. I tire of broken men and crying mothers. I tire of the loud noise of anger. I am tired of smelling violence and seeing the shudders of fear. Because war affects us all. And folks, I’m so tired of it all.

PAD Challenge Day 12

remotes and phones on end table


  We’ll Get Together Later
like a Netflix queue, like a Youtube Watch Later list
I’m putting it on hold ’til I’ve got more time
my current favorite is watching my life dissolve 
like scum under cleaner in the bathtub
friends, colleagues, and family disappear
until there’s only a slab of cold indifference left
I have all the time in the world now
to marathon the new show everyone’s talking about
I pushed and worked and ignored
to end up alone with the tv



Maybe this one’s a little rushed but I did what I try to do at least once during National Poetry Writing Month, and that is finish a poem that I have been working on for a year or more. I have been working at this one for well over a year. Today’s prompt for National Poetry Month was to write a lament poem. What do you think? I would really love some feedback on this one.

PAD Challenge Day 7

  Thorns of a Rose
the impatient thorns of a rose
catching your eye with her colors
so bright and cheerful but beware
under her petals are sharp knives

she will kiss you and cut you twice
the impatient thorns of a rose
pricking you as soon as you touch
she only lets you come so close

from afar the smell entices
you come in for a better look
the impatient thorns of a rose
she doesn’t taste sweet like she smells

for a taste you will pay dearly
that she would cut you was clearly
told to you but you went ahead
the impatient thorns of a rose

red roses fully bloomed,red rose bush, small rose bush,

rose's thorn, rose thorn  IMG_7036  single rose, rose bush

Here is today’s poem. It is a Quatern. I have never written one before today. I will probably not get tomorrow’s poem up on the blog until mid-day on Monday. We shall see.

Follow me on Instagram; I am sharing poetry on there too. I am putting my old tanka onto new photos and kind of making haiga. I feel like I have shared my haiku so many times, and that some of my tanka were overlooked. I will start doing true haiga with haiku soon. It’s a process to get it posted to Instagram, so bear with me! The more likes and follows I get the more motivated I am to post. I will follow you back on Instagram if you tell me you are a blog reader.

I am kind of in the middle of a following freeze on Twitter right now. I’m about to hit 2,000 following which means I can’t follow anyone until I get 2,000 followers myself. So follow me on Twitter and tell your friends to as well. I unfollowed a lot of accounts that looked inactive, or personal accounts that weren’t following me back, but I am quickly edging toward 2,000.

If you are reading this on your cell phone and want to follow me: you have to click on the title of a post, then scroll all the way down to the bottom until you see the pictures I’m posting on Insta and Twitter. Click follow to keep up with me on those sites. I post different things to different sites. Follow me everywhere to see all of the cool things I’m talking about.

Expanding Pain

clouds in a line,thin clouds,little clouds,cloud,partly cloudy,

  Expanding Pain
It is amazing
The lengths to which
The body can expand
To hold pain and poison
If a regular person
Were to be given 55 pills
Of Oxy or another opioid
They would die immediately
But if a person works at it
Slowly ingesting more and more
Hating themselves every day
They can build up
To that level of tolerance
Hate can take you far
Down dark paths
The question becomes
Can you get back



I started to write this almost 5 years ago. I decided to finish it this year because the opioid crisis has gotten worse instead of better.  I was afraid that it didn’t sound like a poem but was more like prose. What do you think? Is it prose, just thoughts, or can it be a poem? Read these definitions and tell me what you think.

Prose: Any material that is not written in a regular meter like poetry. Many modern genres such as short stories, novels, letters, essays, and treatises are typically written in prose.

Sonnet: English (or Shakespearean) sonnets are lyric poems that are 14 lines long falling into three coordinate quatrains and a concluding couplet.

Free Verse: Free Verse is an irregular form of poetry in which the content-free of traditional rules of versification, (freedom from fixed meter or rhyme). In moving from line to line, the poet’s main consideration is where to insert line breaks. Some ways of doing this include breaking the line where there is a natural pause or at a point of suspense for the reader.

Blank Verse: Blank Verse is Poetry that is written in unrhymed iambic pentameter. Blank verse is often unobtrusive and the iambic pentameter form often resembles the rhythms of ordinary speech. William Shakespeare wrote most of his plays in blank verse.