Category Archives: Life Lessons

Sof ha’olam, smolah – NaPo WriMo/GloPoWriMo Challenge Day 22

Sof ha’olam, smolah

at the end of the world, turn left
normal’s not normal anymore
follow the path due north, head west
at the end of the world, turn left
take what you need and leave the rest
dust off those dreams, let your heart soar
at the end of the world, turn left
normal’s not normal anymore


A Triolet for NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo Challenge Day 22: find an idiomatic phrase from a different language or culture, and use it as the jumping-off point for your poem.

Hebrew – (Sof ha’olam, smolah) סוף העולם שמאלה.“At the end of the world, turn left.”

A Triolet is a poetic form consisting of only 8 lines. Within a Triolet, the 1st, 4th, and 7th lines repeat, and the 2nd and 8th lines do as well. The rhyme scheme is simple: ABaAabAB, capital letters representing the repeated lines.

March Pi-Archimedes #22

what do i know?

i don’t know
the older i get
than i thought i knew
everyday i learn something new and have more questions


The Pi-Archimedes verse is:
○ a hexastich, a poem in 6 lines.
○ measured by the number of words in each line 3-1-4-1-5-9 to match the numerical sequence of the first six digits of Pi.
○ unrhymed.

affluent hoarding

affluent hoarding

a legacy of poverty means that even in times
of plenty, one cannot quench the urge to fill
cupboards with rows of non-perishables, that
will ultimately collect dust, but they are there,
just in case; there’s a propensity to buy two
of everything, to maintain double locks on
doors, to install shades and opaque curtains
to keep the outside, out; to have the car
loaded always with no less than half a tank,
blankets, rations, loose change, because one
never knows; all while obsessing over bank
account balances, due dates, a daily ritual,
a masochistic exercise, of checking dwindling
numbers especially when managing a joint
account with someone whose life was not
touched by empty cupboards, homelessness,
insufficient funds, and never enough, no never
enough, double-check, even when there is


For Time, Love, Misery’s Menageries Sunday Writing Prompt – the theme this week is Peace of Mind.

a rose is…

a rose is…

she’s of a certain
age, you know, a
real beauty in
her prime but
clinging to her
withered gown
makes her look
old with fading
mane once
vibrant, sweet her
fragrance reeks of
musty death, they think
it’s time she gives
this ruse rest, the
reaper waits with
pruning shears, she’s
had her summer
in the sun, to yield
at long last, it’s for
the best, she’s of
a certain age you
know, clinging to
her faded gown but
she’s not finished,
being beautiful, not
yet, she’s not
finished, no, not yet


Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 6 January 2019

There comes a time in one’s life when mortality becomes a thing. One by one older relatives pass away. Even my peers are beginning to cross over. As I celebrate the seasons, holidays, birthdays, I find myself wondering how many more Springs and Autumns, how many more Christmases, birthdays, or other milestones will I be fortunate enough to see. When I was younger I tended to be more forward thinking, or if I’m honest, unthinking, when it came to time. I was invincible, carefree, frittering away the moments. But the older I get, memories have become more precious. And moments are fuller, when I am able to pause to take them in.

I don’t fear death the way I once did. It is a matter of fact. My children have had children and it’s very likely I will not be here to know all of the children of my children’s children. Our lives span a mere two or three generations, dipping into a fourth if we’re lucky. Quantity of years has become less important than its quality.

I’m not trying to be a downer today. The truth is, I’ve had an amazing life filled with family, friends, love, music, triumphs, lessons learned from challenges, and yes, even heartache and loss. I’ve learned patience and the understanding that one gleans from having witnessed the magnificent cycles of life, the seasons, rebirth and new beginnings, the realization of a few dreams and the gentle letting go of others. Even on those nights that feel dark and oppressive, there is always dawn’s first light, birdsong, a new day full of mystery and promise to greet me. And in those bright moments it matters not how many more dawns I may have left, but that I seize the one at hand. Sure I know my days on this planet are numbered. I think about it. But today is begging to be lived and I won’t keep it waiting.

Have a lovely Sunday. Have a great week. Have your cake and eat it too. You’re still breathing. How amazing is that?!

Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 6 January 2019

trilling songbirds greet the dawn
sing for auld lang syne
I like to hear her scream
be gentle with yourselves my dears
I think I knew
everything is not a battle
to love someone for loving’s sake,
life to death to life things flow
somewhere near, death has claimed a soul


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