Category Archives: free verse


Today I am

deeply grateful

because thankfulness

is a fleeting,

fickle feeling.

But gratitude?

Well, gratitude

has attitude

and lasts for more

than just a day.



‘I wander by the edge
Of this desolate lake
Where wind cries in the sedge:’ —W.B. Yeats

I have lazed for hours upon long hours
under cascading veils of willow tresses,
sipped sweet tea, beneath magnolias shaded,
contemplating dogwood’s pale bloody blooms
sometimes when it’s raining golden whirligigs
I close my eyes, and breathe amidst the flutter
imagining the thrill of falling, flying
a carefree, swirling dervish on the breeze
I have danced on tiptoes through bristled sedge groves
on tender shoeless feet, barbed nettles nipping,
to dip my soul in swelling, brackish wetness
with the gleaming shards of shoals ebbing
oh there are days I wish that I was fluent
in oaken-speak, in maple or mimosa
what wise time-measured wisdom I’d be gleaning
from rooted ancients practiced in surrend’ring


The pigs are are being tended to and my maddening angst is waning, at long last! And so, a meander to the brink for Jane Dougherty’s ‘A Month with Yeats’ – Day Twenty-Two inspired by the verse above from his poem, ‘He Hears the Cry of the Sedge’.

A Proposition or Two

For Jane Dougherty’s A Month with Yeats – Day Twenty-One Poetry Challenge. I have been indulging my inner warrior with these challenges, but lest you think I am a total bitch for the cause of justice, I do have a tender romantic side. I am a many faceted wonder, if I don’t say so myself. At any rate I have felt a bit guilty for subjecting you to my rants without softening it with a bit of fluff every now and again. So today, as yesterday, I give you two takes on today’s prompt verse from Yeats’, ‘The Ragged Wood’. Both are wrapped around the theme of propositions.  Happy Tuesday!

‘…by water among the trees
The delicate-stepping stag and his lady sigh’ —W.B. Yeats

A Proposition

sunrise comes but once a day
rise with me before it breaks
I’ll make tea; we’ll have some cake
and watch the darkness slip away
I can share my dreams with you
your secrets, promise them to keep
dear, we have all night to sleep
but only dawn to see this view
I propose a kiss, perhaps a swoon
long before the busy, bustled hurry
leave it all to someone else’s worry
we could even linger until noon


And a proposition of a very different kind…in my favorite form…the Cleave (three poems in one. Read column 1 (which are actual quotes of a certain certain), then column 2, finally both columns together top to bottom)

He Said…She Said

I moved in on her / i couldn’t believe it
Very heavily…like a bitch / that son of a bitch
but I couldn’t get there / i was frozen
I’m automatically attracted to beautiful / he just kept coming
Like a magnet / that disgusting face
I don’t even wait / forcing his slimy lips on mine
You can do anything / with those tiny hands
Grab em by the pussy / everywhere…all over me
When you’re a star / no one would believe me though
they let you do it / i’m not rich, or a man
But nobody has more respect / so i just keep my distance
Such a nasty woman / i’ll keep this to myself
She’s certainly not hot / it’s so embarrassing
Why does she keep interrupting? / he could ruin me
There’s nothing I love more than women / it’s just the way things are


Save Your Prayers

‘Away, come away:

Empty your heart of its mortal dream.’ – W.B. Yeats

save your prayers, please, just save them
words of pious supplication
apathy’s justification
reason scorned, and truth forsaken
save your prayers
don’t tell me your heart is breaking
over pain of your own making
hoarding grace, from others, taking
hearts afraid of shadows, quaking
save your prayers, please
just save them


Today’s quote for Jane Dougherty’s A Month With Yeats is from his poem ‘The Hosting of the Sidhe’.

Into Oblivion

‘Suddenly I saw the cold and rook-delighting heaven’.
from “The Cold Heaven”, by W.B. Yeats

never enough, no never
enough, I sense her
monstrous pie-face
leering, spy her bony
hands convulsing, tormented
by her minding-numbing
cackling, tock-tick-tick-tock-
tick…even her minions, those
maniacal demons, strobe
bloody, red in the dark
murky gloam, would that
the sun and moon were
enough, but no, I am in
race with this fiend, a
relentless taskmaster who
tolls every hour, with nary
a second to smell
a wild flower, another
day slips into oblivion


A daylight savings time fallback protest poem for Jane Dougherty’s A month with Yeats: Day Six Challenge. I woke up a hour too early and drove home from my 9 to 5 in the dark. I do not like this time change…no, I do not! 😨

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