Category Archives: Life Lessons

The Midnighters

“Parliament is in session,” declared Ozzie, “we have a couple of live ones this evening!”

“Whooooooh…I love the futility of it all,” hooted Ollie.

Orville chimed in, “Foooooools.”

Otto, the quiet one, just ogled. He was good at ogling and freaking out fearful humans. ‘Am I a good omen or a bad one…whooooo can tell?’

“Shhhh!” Otis screeched.

“Whooo, look! They’re coming!” Odin announced.

Two souls bolted over the hill and into the valley, their hapless former selves stumbling behind in pursuit. It was futile, just as Ollie had said. After a few dips and swoops the souls faded into the mist, leaving their fleshy hosts in darkness.

Once a person loses his soul it is nearly impossible to get it back. Give your soul an inch of freedom from reason and it is sure to bolt. It’s a slippery slope. An epidemic of epic proportions orchestrated by legions of soul-less heads who are miserable and in need of adoring followers.

But at least the midnighters were entertained.

“They never had a chance,” sighed Ollie.

“Same time tomorrow then?” Odin asked his fellows.

“Wouldn’t miss it. This is better than barn crashing!” Orville guffawed.

“Whoooo’ll be next? Whooooo knows?”


A bit of silliness for Jane Dougherty’s Microfiction Challenge based on the odd painting above, that I discovered, after a quick google search, is by Hugo Gerhard Simberg (24 June 1873 – 12 July 1917), a Finnish symbolist painter and graphic artist.

Finito…A Month With Yeats – Day 30

iphone disaster

“And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,”W.B. Yeats



When mercury in retrograde descends
all manner of calamities ensue
before my final poem could be “penned”
I dropped my fragile iPhone in the loo!
It’s glaring at me now, it’s apple face,
perpetually glowing like a fool.
That bloody thing is buried now in rice
what peaceful thoughts I might have had are doomed.
Oh, woe is me, for I am out of sorts.
It almost makes me want to grab a pen
and scribble in a notebook just for sport…
it takes me back, you know, rememb’ring when.

Perhaps I should be thanking mercury
for making me endure this misery.
Without my phone intact I finally see
that I don’t need it to write poetry.

(but I do hope the rice works and my phone comes back to me)


Not the poem I had envisioned for my final poem this month-long challenge. I write most everything on my iphone…well, except this little rant. I suppose it’s a good way to end the month. Sometimes I take my poetry and my writing too seriously. This definitely put it into perspective for me. My head is full of words. I just need to scribble them down. That is the important thing. Thanks Jane Dougherty for this “Month with Yeats”.

Shi Sai Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 12 November 2017

With every sensational soundbite, those who are paying too close attention (I am all to easily sucked in…guilty as charged) are reeling from the downward spiral of our uncivil civilization. I happen to have an American front row seat, but from your comments; you my friends across the pond, and from the north, south and east, this current state of unrest seems to be global. With nuclear options being flexed and monsters being exposed, I have even heard the “A” word mumbled under pundits baited breaths. “A” for apocalypse…oh my!

But I’m not buying it. And, well, if I’m wrong….that’s okay. I can deal with being wrong especially since there won’t be anyone around to say “I told you so…” Why am I not buying it? Not yet? There is still enough good in the world to hold this implosion at bay. Patriarchy is going down. Hate is being exposed for the ugly blight that it is. And we are starting to believe the women…and the innocents when they point at the emperor declaring that he is buck naked. He’s always been naked. I know it’s a shock, but that’s how truth rolls.

At any rate, the bad guys will still try to distract us from the truth, blame the victims, call monsters heroes. I don’t expect them to go down without a fight. But they are clearly desperate. That’s a good sign.

I know you’re weary. But we’re in the final stretch it seems to me. The apocalypse may be coming, but for a chosen few. I expect to be standing when the smoke settles.

Peace, truth, love…resist! ❤️

Shi Sai Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 12 November 2017

she lights up a room / she’s a sorceress cackling, tock-tick-tick-tock-<
..sorry to interrupt your eternal bliss<
ool nor-eastern zephyr whispers<
aging from coal soot nostrils<
rumbling to dust<
he burning stench of liquid iron, oozing<
hoose me, choose me<
..haven for hoards of crude middling beasties<
irtue is disdained<
oo beautiful to bear<
o not lose heart<
hey’re going down<
eartless fools who<
ish that you were here instead<
..brief glimmers of recognition


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.

Drain The Swamp

‘And he saw how the reeds grew dark
At the coming of night-tide,’  W.B. Yeats

Drain the Swamp

a congress of reeds congregates in the shadows
corrupted, its oil glutted rodomont brims,
impassable moat churning pristine and brackish
host to edge dwellers too fearful to swim

as murky gray fog settles round its foundation
turbidity swirls, fire tangoing with ice
the tide ebbs disturbing its frail underpinning
sweeping them into all manner of vice

this haven for hoards of crude middling beasties
conceals crawling shape-shifters, long-legged fowl
slimy, amphibious, hideous predators
hiding sub-surface, always on the prowl


Today’s Prompt Verse for Jane Dougherty’s A Month with Yeats – Day Ten Poetry Challenge is from Yeats’ poem, ‘The Host of the Air.’ I resisted looking up the poem this time, before writing my own, because I wanted to focus entirely on the words of the verse. At first glance I imagined sunset rouged, tidal wetlands, with tall sea wheat and cattails; the day surrendering to evening. But when I looked up the word ‘reed’  I discovered it has a myriad of possible definitions; one in particular that caught me eye...from Webster: a person without strength of character. Oh…it went on…doorman, jellyfish, namby-pamby, pushover, weakling, wimp, coward, milquetoast, mouse, nebbish, nervous Nellie (or nervous Nelly), pussy [slang], wuss (also wussy) sheep. Not the idyllic scene I first imagined, but hey…I went with it, with a melding of the two. With so many reeds to inspire me on the world stage these days, how could I resist?!

Graying Streams of Consciousness

Graying Streams of Consciousness

bleary eyed, bright
lights, crying, gulping
air, breathing,
soothing sweet
milk flowing, warm
love, bunting soft, safe
she’s in there somewhere

wobbly knees, feet
pressed on cold linoleum,
toes-gripping, step by
step, walking, mouthing
sounds, wording,
mama, pa, talking
she’s in there somewhere

butterfly kisses, bumped
knees, bruised
elbows, big bed, tucked
tight, prayers for
soul keeping, fairy
tale whispers, magic sprite
she’s in there somewhere

books bags, bologna,
bread, mustard, cursive
scratch, fountain pen
perfect, friendly foe
drama, first crush,
pep-rallied awkward
she’s in there somewhere

young love, bliss
wedded, babies, more
babies, 9 to 5 working
surviving, surviving
love fading, still
thriving, heart breaking
she’s in there somewhere

empty nest echo, wild
dreams deferred, then
finding herself, soaring,
smile-lined, curled
locks graying, young,
wise, remembering
she’s in there somewhere


For Mind Love Misery’s Menagerie Sunday Writing Prompt: “Know Thyself” inspired by this monologue from the film/play “The Dresser”:

I thought I caught a sight of him tonight
— or myself as he sees me –
speaking reason not the need I became detached from myself, my thoughts flow and I was observing from a great height
— go on you bastard I seemed to be saying or hearing, go on you’ve more to give, go on more more more —
and I was watching Lear
— each word he spoke was fresh invented, I had no knowledge of what came next, what fate awaited me, the agony of acting was in the moment created —
I saw an old man and the old man was me —
outside myself —
do you understand?
— outside myself

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