Poet/Writer/Producer
My Kitchen Wonderland
The Wild Blue Yonder has nothing on
my slow simmer or stir fry.
Tied as I am to
bread on the rise.
Soup on the boil.
Discovery lives in a pea pod.
Adventure?
Try basting a hot bird.
The Madrona Project 2024
Pomp
Stained glass sunrise
Casket draped in ivory tapestry
Shot through with golden threads
Blazing scarlet cross for a heart
Rolling down the marble aisle
Organ moans a random tune
Plucked out of a paper pamphlet
Courtesy of an undertaker
Who’s got retired city cop
Written all over him
Big Irish hands
Too small a mouth
Mewing condolences
Priest robed in glory signals
Stand- Sit- Kneel-Genuflect
All eyes shift to the last old man
Only he knows this routine
A sliver of white bread
Raised up on high
Faithless heads bow
Ears fill with ancient babble
Scribbled by a fanatic
On some dusty desert road tour
Eyes fog with spiced incense
Mouths are sealed in mourning
We breakfast on Hosanas
Written Tales 2023
Big Top Summer
Summer has rolled into town.
Somersaulting on a blue trapeze of unending sky.
Bouncing on nets of cotton candy clouds.
Shimmering Ferris wheel spinning out golden dawns.
Sweet Candy Apple sunsets.
Carnival lights of lavender nights.
Fairground of emerald lawns.
Loop de loop lightning shows.
Thunder cartwheels in,
banging its kettle drum.
Corn popping on swaying stalks.
Piping Calliope of bird song.
Tumbling confetti of butterflies.
Rainbow banners span the midway.
Rising above center ring.
the sun dangles from a golden hoop.
Round and round the sweet days go,
when Summer rolls into town.
Green Tree Ink 2023
Driftwood Tree
Beyond the ocean’s soggy reach
I gathered driftwood from the beach
The radio played a Christmas choir,
while I dried sticks by the fire
Drilled a hole through every one
Reached for the hot glue gun
A dowel helped to build a tower
to form a wooden, leafless bower
Stringing lights round each bough
My little tree began to glow
Driftwood rescued from the sea,
makes a perfect Christmas tree
GreenShoes Sanctuary 2021
McGill The Lobster
I had a pet lobster
his name was McGill.
He lived in a tank,
on my room’s windowsill.
He missed his blue ocean,
where he wanted to be.
I knew in my heart:
he must return to the sea.
We walked to the shoreline,
across the warm sand.
He tried not to pinch,
when holding my hand.
As McGill disappeared
under a wave’s frothy foam,
I could see how happy
he was to go home.
The Toy 2023
Things
Things on wheels are important things
But not as important as things on springs
Let’s then consider things on strings
And all the kinds of fun that brings
I don’t like things that come with stings
I am always up for a thing that sings
I do like things with chimes and rings
Like doorbells that have dongs and dings
But I like best- anything that swings.
Paddler's Press 2023
The Lady In The Hat
I saw her as she crossed the street.
Scarlet heels hugged slender feet.
On her head, tipped to the right,
was perched a hat as black as night.
She balanced it as best she could.
Till a wind arrived to do no good.
It tickled across the fabric's brim,
wiggled up, beneath the rim.
Both hands flew up, to save her hat.
The wind was having none of that.
Hat went tumbling through the air!
Thank goodness she had done her hair.
Off she dashed in a frantic chase.
The wind the winner in this race.
Surrendering at the corner light,
she teetered hatless out of sight.
The Dirigible Balloon
Hag Of Oak Hollow
Battered hat and mud-stained cloak,
creeps from beneath the hollowed oak.
Sulfur curls through stagnant air,
remnants of what once was hair.On bony hands twines midnight lace.
Of fingernails- there is no trace.
Sprouting from a withered chin,
a whisker pokes sharp as a pin.
A spattered satchel holds a book
filled with names of lives she took.
The ancient pages torn and creased
clasp the claw of a fabled beast.
She squats beside the narrow road,
a deadly twisted, blistered toad.
Written Tales -Night Terrors 2020
How to Solve a Problem
(Read entire recipe before beginning)
Ingredients:
1 problem- any size
1 cup of deep breaths
6 heaping Tablespoons of patience
4 dollops of determination
5 teaspoons of help
1 large can of I CAN DO THIS!
Recipe:
Chop problem into bite size pieces
Lay out in front of you
Add cup of deep breaths
Stir gently
Sprinkle patience
Let it rest a bit
Mix well
Add teaspoons of help one by one (as needed)
Work the problem slowly
piece by piece
Not too much pressure
or it might stick
Pour can of I CAN DO THIS!
(Cause you can)
When finished,
Serve yourself a heaping slice of
WELL DONE!
Awakening the Heart 2023- Georgia Heard
Lost and Found
I thought I’d lost your diary
The one you gave me when we were seventeen
Neither of us knowing then, you wouldn’t see twenty
That an empty balcony would beckon you to its edge
Hushed, rushed burial to lay you in hallowed ground
Solace for a Bronx Irish family from a parish priest
Don’t ask too many questions was thought best
My eyes still scan the façade, seeking some small trace
A blazing red palm print showing where you hesitated
A shining platinum star seared into the pavement
I try to pretend you never really landed
Instead, you leapt into the waiting arms of blue midnight
Who carried you home on broad starry shoulders
Poetry Super Highway 2022
Catching The Moon
I’m hatching a plan to capture the Moon.
I have to be patient! I can’t do it soon.
I think I’ll wait till the Moon is half full,
So it’s lighter to lift when I give it a pull.
I’ll sneak up behind it with an old sack,
stuff it right in and haul it right back.
After I nab it, I’ll tuck it away.
To hide in my closet during the day,
When everyone’s sleeping, I’ll open the door
And spill my moonbeams all over the floor.
Schoolhouse Magazine 2023
Tension
Heels dig in, teeth are bared, toes to temples taut
Dominate the middle - the goal that must be sought
Tension thrums tendons in each gripper’s grasp
Champions cling to that rope with an iron clasp
Shoulders bunch, bent knees bow to Earth
The tuggers heave and ho!
The same song pounds in every heart
“Hang tight! Don’t let go!”
An ancient competition where mind is met by might
The goal to win the battle is not just about the fight
Slackening the tension - knowing when to rest,
Is how this game of strength is played by those who play it best.
10*10 Anthology
Woman Weather
Some women are April breezes,
wafting across a green lawn.
Swaying crisp white sheets
hanging in the sunshine,
on a country line.
Some women are cold November.
Drafts whispering with damp voices,
through cracks in hollow walls.
Some are the maelstrom leaving,
devastation in their mad wake.
Others, a hot desert wind
that carries the scent of
exotic spice to your tongue.
Some women howl like the North Wind.
Blowing down walls in their path.
Paving the way for a calm day,
where damaging winds
don’t blow and clouds paint
a still life in the sky.
Written Tales 2023
The Ghoul
The waxing moon lay in a shroud
Behind a wall of ashen cloud
It was now All Hallows Eve
When the dead rise to grieve
What drove me to this haunted place
Shunned by my fellow human race?
My need to know what lay beyond,
When we break our Earthly bond
On the headstone the inscription read
“HERE LIES ONE WHO EATS THE DEAD”
As I knocked upon that stone,
I prayed what rose was flesh and bone
I shivered madly-held my breath
For my chance to speak with death
I heard a voice call out my name
“I see your soul! Why you came!
You long to hear of Heaven’s heights,
Angel song and blessed sights.
On this night, you’ve roused a fiend
Who feasts on those life has demeaned
I eat the living and the dead
I’m the thing that all men dread!”
My mind cried out in fresh alarm
Why had I dared to tempt such harm?
This ghoul will eat me limb by limb
What madness made me call to him?
My soul will perish in this quest
And never find eternal rest
The face was tattered, rotting skin
The ravaged eyes had sunken in.
Blindly I ran toppling stones
Heard lost cries of rattling bones
A streetlamp lit the way ahead
To lead me from this place of dread.
Each night I quake at midnight’s toll,
Chimes that haunt my cursed soul
For the fiend I woke from its tomb
Will now deliver to me my doom.
Southern Arizona Press &
The Dirigible Balloon
Dark Fairies
Dim shadows.
Faint moonlight.
Songbirds have taken flight.
Malice under gossamer wings.
Not all Fairies are lovely things.
As the fairest rose has its thorn,
Some Fair Folk are not fair born.
Deep Whispers.
Dark spells.
A secret the forest never tells.
Smoke rising from the lake.
A gasp in every breath you take.
A dark realm of ancient power,
where midnight strikes every hour.
The Caterpillar Magazine 2022
Can I Please Have A Calendar?
Can I please have a calendar?
The kind you hang on the wall.
It’s the only way I’ll ever know,
what day it is at all.
Monday is just like Wednesday.
Has Saturday gone away?
Feels like every day’s the same.
I can’t tell school from play
.If I could have a calendar,
the kind you hang on the wall,
I’d know again what day it is
and look forward to them all.
"Hop To It"-Pomelo Books 2021
Rescue Me
Fate comes knocking.
Choice takes a leave of absence.
Reason lets go with both hands.
Luck has no place at the table.
The Gods turn away-
and you
fall
Coming to in the dark place.
Terror leans in, shows its ugly face.
Hope has forgotten your name.
Shame licks cracked lips and grins.
You realize that mercy-
not payback is the bitch.
Mercy always makes you beg for it.
Start praying for charity to send in miracle,
to bring you back from despair.
Clinging onto: Please just one more chance.
Divine intervention seeps under the door
.Faith kicks it open.
Salvation shouts “Get up on your feet!"
Love carries you to safety.
Gratitude holds your hand and whispers:
breathe.
Written Tales Human Experience- 2023