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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

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

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