Monthly Archives: November 2017

Magnetic Poetry Monday

I laugh at the childish
desires I had when
I was a silly young thing…
what I long for these days
would make that girl blush!

Magnetic Poetry – Poet Kit

First Light

‘Once more the storm is howling, and half hid
Under this cradle-hood and coverlid
My child sleeps on.’
—W.B. Yeats

First Light

when first I met you
deep dark eyes
sweet milk breath
a glimpse of eternity
bundled in bunting


A Shadorma (3/5/3/3/7/5) for Jane Dougherty’s A Month with Yeats: Day Twenty-Seven. Today’s quote, is the opening to Yeats’ lovely poem, “A Prayer for my Daughter’.

Land-Locked, City Dweller’s Lament

‘I would that we were, my beloved, white birds on the foam of the sea!’
-W.B. Yeats

Land-Locked, City Dweller’s Lament

I mourn at dawn with ashen doves
rustling in nests of refuse
faggot butts and paper scrapping
littered amidst the fading leaves
roses singed by acid dewdrops
choke from mist infused with poison
vines erupting from concrete tombs
now cling to rain-swelled guttered eaves
may we rise from heavy slumber
remedy our careless keeping
see past gray horizons blighted
sprawling towers of brick and steel
beautiful dawn would I know you
wild, pristine, unobstructed
left untouched, nurtured, protected
would then, the mourning doves still grieve


What started as a lovely morning stroll, serenaded by doves coo-cooing took an unfortunate turn. I hadn’t set out to write this poem, but the muse insisted. For Jane Dougherty’s ‘A Month With Yeats’ – Day Twenty-Six with the verse above from Yeats’ poem, ‘The White Birds’.

Shi Sai Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 26 November 2017

I am so relieved and inspired by the way this week’s ReVerse came out. The holidays are emotionally charged for so many people. Here in the U.S. we celebrated Thanksgiving. Divisions were magnified by empty places at tables and broken relationships even more than recent year’s past in this polarized time.

But it is the Sunday after Thanksgiving. I am still here…we are still here. I survived…we are survivors all.

How can I be anything but grateful for the blessings in my life. It may not be perfect, but I am blessed nonetheless, by love, by a roof over my head, food to eat, a job to sustain me.

I will keep hoping for more. I will always hope…for mended relationships, for happy reunions. It’s human to do as much. But in the meantime I have enough…and that is enough.

Shi Sai Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 26 November 2017

those of us who have lost hope in praying,
we are not promised
nothing to lose
we rage against eternity
I need you to play your part
you can do anything / with those tiny hands
and watch the darkness slip away
a spark of recognition
I have danced on tiptoes through bristled sedge groves
deeply grateful
it is worth the wait
Luna’s empty crescent cup dangling
their memories are like ashes
rise before dawn to mingle
the in between
my favorite moments
things I can’t remember
let the dawn burn into day
but you should know,
measure life’s seasons
When Swinging was Jive
apparently, collecting fine things runs in the family
the most important thing is that you are here
over the broken mess we made


A shi sai or ReVerse poem is a summary poem with a single line lifted from each entry of a collection of work over a particular timeframe and re-penned in chronological order as a new poem. Unlike a collaborative poem, the shi sai features the words of one writer, providing a glimpse into their thoughts over time. I use it as a review of the previous week.


it’s useless to cry
over the broken mess we made
crying won’t fix it


For Ronovan Writes Haiku Challenge, prompt Words: Broken & Over.

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