Category Archives: Rhymed Verse

My Love, The Sea

Photo by PublicDomainPictures on
My Love, The Sea

A love like hers is rare and true
When first we met, I was a youth
She moves me every time she speaks
her voice is strong; her thoughts are deep

And when she holds me in her arms
I’m overcome by all her charms
I love her kisses salty sweet
In waves she sweeps me off my feet

Teeming with life, ebbing, flowing
Her swelling, swirling, tempest showing
She takes my shallow breath away
Sink or swim with her I’ll stay

She calls to us from terra’s brink
You may just know my love I think
And even heard her siren song
From over horizon’s edge…beyond


This is take two for the Day 10 challenge for NaPoWriMo 2023. I had finally completed a proper chantey of several verses and lovely rhymes, and when I tried to copy it, I forgot I was not on my laptop and with one click found myself staring at a “C” …poem gone forever! I hate when that happens. At any rate, I’m tired and it’s been a long stressful day. But I do love the sea. It’s been too long since I dipped my toes in the ocean. I miss her. Sometimes when the winds are strong whipping through the tree leaves it sounds like the ocean crashing into the shore. I close my eyes, imagine the sea, and console myself in those moments.

fish stick Jesus … thoughts and prayers

Fred Whan’s Fish Stick Jesus
David Howlett’s Naan Jesus
Toby Elles’ Frying Pan Jesus
Fish Stick Jesus

He was sighted on a fish stick,
on a pancake and grilled cheese,
Some say it was a miracle
so the faithful flocked to see.

They found him in his glory
on a toasted slice of naan
he gazed from ripe banana peels
and from unrinsed fry pans.

I know you won’t believe it
but they saw him in the clouds
as if coming for his chosen
from amongst the gathering crowds.

Ever watchful for their savior
leaving no stained rock unturned
the hopeful ever seeking
eager for his grand return.

So He came to them in person
wide-eyed, lost, without a home
in the hopes that they would know him
welcome him in, as their own.

But they ne’er saw him coming
turned away and closed their ears
for he looked too much like “others”
that the righteous ones all feared.

“We’ve just enough, we’ve none to spare,
don’t bother us,” they said,
and hovered round their idols
of his images instead.

When end of days for each one came
they waited at the gate
to give account of their life’s deeds
and learn about their fate.

“We saw you everywhere,” they said,
“and gave you proper due…
enshrined your image high and low
we stayed forever true!”

To their surprise the Master then
did shake his head and say,
“I only came to see you once
‘twas then you turned away.”


NaPoWriMo2023 Challenge – Day 7: a list poem. For today…after being buried in expense reports, power point presentations, spreadsheets, for about 12 hours straight, my brain is a bit fried. But never fear, I found this gem in my archive, written almost a decade ago. It fits the list requirement rather well, I think. Tomorrow, if the fates are kind, I’ll prepare a fresh baked poem. Until then, Peace and Love my lovelies! 😉

what matters

what matters

it matters not when life begins
or ends; it is the in between
the crooked path, the highs, the lows
as most lives go, pendulums swing
and we obsess in the extremes
but that’s not where the rubber
hits the road, i’m told, steady
as she goes, the wise have said,
don’t lose your head, don’t sweat
the insignificant, but who’s to say
what matters most at end of day
if truth be told, if truth exists
the rights, the wrongs the
reasons why we fight and fret
and lean toward right or left,
it is the middle, we forget,
where time is present,
neither here nor there,
where god, if god exists, is love,
is everywhere, where grace
flows freely, despite who,
what, why, or where you’ve been,
can we just close our eyes, pretend
it matters not the second life
begins or ends, it is, as it has
always been, the in between


ode to an aging fragile heart

ode to an aging fragile heart

the icy tip of Reaper’s sickle
lightly tapped her shoulder yesterday
her breathless voices gently whispered,
“winter is coming”, she heard Hel say

oh hush you pounding pitter-patter
elephant dancing upon her chest
it’s just a passing ‘bleeping’ blip
but maybe it’s time for her to rest

let someone else with nose to grindstone
deal with the dread deliverables
the Piper’s fluting, shrill, pricks her ears
background ‘music’ to this crucible

forced to face the inconvenient
unpaid debt now due Mortality,
“it’s much later than you think, my dear”
youth is but a fleeting memory

Shadow follows close, a breath away
she’s not ready to engage Her yet
‘she will survive’, the mantra of her life
drives her in this battle to the death


NaPoWriMo 2022 - Early-Bird Prompt - I decided to do a rhyming poem that borrows some style quirks from Emily Dickinson and her poem “Because I Could Not Stop Fo Death”.

The artwork is a little something i whipped up in a drawing app on my phone…my canvas is digital these days! ❤️

what it is…

the hazing starts when we are girls, 
sheltered from the outside world
where monsters claim the unsuspecting
we fledge our natal nests expecting
limitless opportunity…
too soon smacked by reality
that most of us will just make do
while fate rewards a chosen few
we learn to make the best of it
find happiness in simple shit
work our fingers to the bone
and if we’re lucky build a home
find love, companionship, have kids
for most of us, that’s all there is
and it’s enough, we tell ourselves
our dreams collecting dust long-shelved
our parents didn’t mean to lie
they hoped we’d crack the ceilinged sky
but we were set up from the start
ensuring disappointed hearts
only to learn life’s bittersweet
where happiness and sorrow meet
and if we live to see old age
our minds intact, our bodies razed
as memories flash in our mind’s eye
at least we can admit we tried,
gave it all we had and then some
fought to glimpse another sun
though life is messy, it is all
hard to let go when the sickle falls


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