Free Verse for National Poetry Month

fescue,mist,morning sun,sunrise,fog,sunup,


chains rattled

at her feet

the captive

stepped forward

a dungeon

is no place

for warriors


I wrote this for a prompt from #FieryVerse on January 6, 2017. If you are on Twitter, follow me to see these the same day that I write them. Don’t forget, while it’s easier to like and share on Twitter, you can like and share my blog posts as well.


Bare Poetry

tree in winter,trees with no leaves,diciduous trees,

Bare Trees

Bare trees
broken down with nothing to hide.
They’re not dancing in a mascaraed ball
trying to impress a suitor.
They just are.
With arms lifted they shout
here I am.
They aren’t trying to hide anything.
They are so transparent
you can see houses through them.
They don’t bend their branches
to try to hide their roots.
They stand naked before you
and dare you to judge them
tangled birds’ nests and all.
They are stoic
as winter winds beat against them.
If only people
could be as honest and open
as the trees.


I thought you guys might need a break from the mommy poetry so I decided to share this today. I will get back in town tomorrow, but I will not have time to respond to any comments until this weekend.

Dear Lord it’s Wednesday.

pills and glass of water

istock photo-insomnia

 Dear Lord 1

Dear Lord ease this pain

Don’t leave me to be slain

I need you Lord, I need you now

Doctors, I need you anyhow

Forget the meds, forget the scripts

Please keep me from the crypts

I know you can, I know you will

Slowly I swallow this pill



I find it easier to get through the week if I pray, read The Bible, read quotes and posts from other Christians, and do a devotion in the morning.

What spiritual habits help you get through the week?

Lightly twirling about…Wandering Wednesday



Lightly twirling about

Falling flat on my face

Getting up quickly

And walking away



Are you a klutz? I am sometimes.

photo credit: stock.xchng

Thank You for a Year!


How many words are left in me

How long until I’m all I can be

When will the rhyme run out

When will the course have run its route

When will words no longer come to mind

When will my heart be blind

glow eyes


Pour Out Your Words

I want to write Lord

Pour your words upon me

Let me hear wisdom in the way of rhyme

Let my heart sing of the pleasure you bring

Give me wise words to heal

Give me the words to show how I feel

Thank you for being with me for a year. (Some of you have only been with me for a month, but that’s okay.) It has been wonderful having this public blog. I have met so many amazing people, and learned so many new things, and connected to people over some beautiful words.

I hope you all stick around for another year (and invite a friend). This blog was made to be interactive, so please continue to leave me plenty of comments.

I love to hear from my readers. What has the last year been like for you, whether in the writing world, or just your world? How are you doing?

~Wandering Wednesday~ Storm Coming In

rain on house


Storm Coming In

Like a deer
I can smell the rain
Before it gets here
I feel the electricity building
Looking up at the sky I see
The clouds have darkened
Sunny blue is giving way to
Brooding blue
Even the sky is tired of the heat
It voices its annoyance
Through claps of thunder
And cloud to ground lightning
The tension has gotten so thick
That even the sky
Can’t stand it anymore
There has been too much death
Too many ruined crops
Someone had to give us
Some relief
So the sky cried on us
For a moment

Written during the worst drought, since the Dust Bowl which was in the 1930’s.

Heat/temperature records are being broken all across the United States. How is the heat affecting you?

What Broken Hearts Do ~Wandering Wednesday~

bouquet of roses

Broken Hearts

The heart on my sleeve
gets broken all too often.
You’d think I would
take it off my sleeve,
and pin it to my chest,
where it would be harder to reach.

You’d think I’d take it
put it in a box and lock it
shut with a padlock.
There would be no chance
of anyone tearing or piercing it.

How many times will I sew it up?
How many needles have I dulled
putting the pieces back together?
I think I have lost
some pieces along the way.

My heart is tired and frayed.
Functioning at 100% nice
is getting harder and harder.
Tomorrow when I am weak
I may tear someone else’s heart.

Because that’s what broken hearts do.
They break other hearts
because broken is all they know.


Are you tired of having to sew your heart back up?


Don’t forget to like me on Facebook!

A poem that doesn’t fit.

Eating a Pear

Its texture is so grainy, you’re offended

But you forgive it, because it’s so sweet

Its juices drip down your face

At first you’re angry

But then you laugh

You know that something this good

Could never be contained


This poem doesn’t really fit anywhere and I think that is why it has been rejected.

Its short.

It’s not formal, it’s not a haiku or any type of poem except maybe free verse.

It doesn’t rhyme.

It’s an odd subject.

And yet, I love it.  I will not throw it out.

Guess that means I’m still failing.