Tag Archives: poetry

a poem a pic a day: day 15

Pat^tern*s & Tex+tur’es

BUMPY ~   lacey ~  smooth

Silky@  SCRATCHY @ stitched

grainy ^ marbled  ^veined

FloRAl *  gauzy  * translucent

granite # plaid # gingham

crisscross + quilted + weave


rivets % grooves  % cerAMic

platinum ` stainless steel  ` wavy

curvy ~ loopy ~ rough

soft $ fluffy $ grainy

ripples > ragged >> raw edge

beveled ; linoleum ; pergo

paisley | puffy | leather

pleather } plastic }  rust

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a poem a pic a day: day 14

Childhood Times

Few worries

overflowing curiosities

Imagining, drawing, singing,


Laughing , skipping,


Gentle play and toys to build

Make Believe

We’ve been telling stories all our lives with soldiers and Barbies and pretty ponies;

with dress-up frocks

plastic guns and cars that roll


                                                         and drop


                                                                                                             into space

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a poem a pic a day: day 12

ice chips crystallize on sliced tangerine colored peaches

ripe with raspberry centers

skin puckers with ridges and divots





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a poem a pic a day: day 11

A Warning of heat

danger flame game

A dare of Adventure


The color of rage

the lure of Seduction

Tempt and Taunt…FATE

Cool and calm…WAIT

Passion, petals, purse … of the lips

Feel the dangerous burn of my kiss


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a pic a poem a day: day 10 (I’m a slacker)

Yikes! It’s April 21 and I’ve only posted 10 poems and 10 pics. That’s slightly shy of a poem and a pic a day, eh? It’s not lack of writing. It’s just lack of formatting, uploading and posting.  Too bad, so sad? Well, here we go again…


Inspired again by SARK, I began a list of words that intrigue me … I think it’s poetic just scribbled in my notebook this way. What do you think?

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a pic a poem a day: day 9

And, now, from my oldest son, David (13):


Is It Wrong?

Is it wrong
That I glance up at the clouds,
Feeling the wind through my hair,
And dream of a mystifying land
Where one can be accepted no matter what?

Is it wrong
That I choose to wear jeans down past my heels,
Baggy and ripped at the knees,
Unlike all the other boys that wear athletic
Shorts, so unscathed and clean?

Is it wrong
That I ask people about their troubles,
Sometimes doing all in my mortal power
To help them surpass the simple,
Even ones I have not defeated myself?

Is it wrong
That while the few friends I have
Dance around giddily and go to
The most extreme only to impress,
But I only hang back in silent content?

Is it wrong
That I do not laugh when others are hurt,
On their knees in blood stained mud,
And I am there with hand outstretched,
Seeming to always be there in time of need?

Is it wrong
That I do not clap, nor do I support
Ones I do not find worthy of it,
Ones who I find in my perspective to be
Quite cruel and bitterly heartless?

Is it wrong
That I choose to sit in the back,
Observe and question from a far,
And wonder why when I do speak up,
It is only taken as a leaf crying softly in the wind?

Is it wrong
That I choose to be one of a kind,
Not part of the crowd, not swimming along
In the universal current of life,
Being my own group, my own person?

They tell me that you cannot win life
Without backstabbing and betrayal along the way,
No matter who you are inside or how honest you are.

But I believe this can only be this:
The world can only be changed if someone is willing to take the steps to change it.


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a pic a poem a day: day 8

From my little man, Sam (8 yrs old)>>


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a.p.a.p.a.d. day 5 – outta order

Ugh-oh. I realized my day 5 draft was never finished or scheduled. I skipped right over to day 6.

To pay tribute, a list of words that rhyme with Oops:












To make a poem – add a noun, and a sound!


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a pic and a poem a day: day 7

Patio Musings

Far off,  cars pass on 75th

rush, stop, turn

without signal

money goes out, rubbish comes in

Tree limbs dance around me,

over me,

on me

and my patio

smooth-and-bumpy stones of gray

and tan and white

gather, pile, spread

under the gray shadows that twitch

like patterned lace

slipping across the ground

slowing, swaying

cool, regal breezes ask for respect

change to an angry twirl can rip houses from their roots


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a.p.a.p.a.d. day 6


Yesterday my name was First Born

Tomorrow my name will be Butterfly with Sticky Timid Wings

In my dream my name was Free Bird floating above fields of Dancing Flames

My Mother thinks my name is Ungrateful

I call her but she no longer knows My Name.

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