Category Archives: Life Lessons

glimmer day 100 / NaGloPoWriMo 11 April 2025

I

a candle in darkness

hello darkness my old friend
just when we think we’ve seen it all
like a candle in the wind

another blow, the nightmare never ends
as criminals plan their next cabal
hello darkness my old friend

I can’t bear to watch, the bitter end
democracy on life support will fall
like a candle in the wind

we’re spiraling on a downward trend
the people cry but no one hears their call
hello darkness my old friend

we told the truth, our differences to mend
they called us traitors from behind their wal
like a candle in the wind

there is no middle ground on which to stand
our leaders on a binge have gone awol
hello darkness my old friend
like a candle in the wind

-kat

NaGloPoWriMo 11April 2025 Prompt: take a look at Kyle Dargan’s “Diaspora: A Narcolepsy Hymn.” This poem is a loose villanelle that uses song lyrics as its repeating lines (loose because it doesn’t rhyme).  Your challenge is, like Dargan, to write a poem that incorporates song lyrics – ideally, incorporating them as opposing phrases or refrains.


Today’s glimmer…bluejays at the crow feeder. Bluejays can be obnoxious creatures. What started as a feeding tray for my crow friends has quickly become host to dozens of blue jays. I have been putting out more peanuts specifically for the crows mid-day when the jays are off doing whatever it is they do.

There are people who act like these jays. They are obnoxious and will push for their own interest above others, even if it means encroaching on someone else’s portion. And then there are those who wait, coming in at the back of the line after everyone else has had their fill. They may even find that their favorite dishes are empty by the time they come to fill their plate. And it’s perfectly fine with them. Potlucks are not about the food, they are about community, and gratefulness for having one’s needs met.

Much love, peace, and glimmers of gratefulness to you,

~kat✨✨💚✨✨


day 98 glimmers – NaGloPoWriMo 9 April 2025

First things first. We need a glimmer or two or three or four. 

Glimmer #1: a monarch butterfly hopped from dandelion to dandelion pausing to sip nectar along the way. 

Glimmer #2 and 3: Then the turkeys came …and just when I had almost given up hope of seeing my deer friends again, a lone yearling made her way through the wood’s edge to share seeds I had tossed on the ground for the birds. 

She lingered a while, then wandered back into the woods… I wondered if she was the lone survivor…

Glimmer #4:  The best glimmer of all. The yearling had brought a few friends back to the clearing. Four to five more deer came to call. Not the full herd, but it did my heart good to see them. All tolled, a doe and four young deer. 

In the distance the turkeys were making a huge ruckus…I imagined the Jennie’s finally stopped playing hard to get. They certainly are noisy, very noisy lovers. 

Dusk started to settle around us. All is  right with my world. My thoughts are still with the other deer. I’m still hoping none of them succumbed to the hunters last night.  But I’m counting my blessings. 

Much love, peace and glimmers to you! 

~kat ✨✨💚✨✨


And now for today’s NaGloPoWriMo 9 April 2025 prompt:  Today we’d like to challenge you to try writing a poem of your own that uses rhyme, but without adhering to specific line lengths. For extra credit, reference a very specific sound, like the buoy in Hillyer’s poem.


the wind has many voices

if I close my eyes
when a strong wind blows
i can hear the swell and rise
of ocean waves, the ebb and flow
how did the trees
learn the salty score
of the sea
waves crashing rhythmically into the shore

sometimes I clearly hear
the sound of jubilation,
tickling my ears
a symphony of ovations
fluttering leaves
rousing cheers
i could be deceived
It sounds like applause, so clear

the wind has many voices
my favorite one of all
is when the breezes whisper
I love it when they call
“come sit with me,” they croon
“it’s time for you to breathe
this moment will be over soon
embrace it, take in everything you see.”

so take me to the heights when the winds’ graces
brush my cheek with soft kisses and toss my hair
the wind has many faces,
I’d know her…they…and them anywhere

~kat

NaGloPoWriMo 8 April 2025 – glimmer day 97…fading

the disappeared

the woods are silent, gentle grace …fading
deer-folk scattered and displaced, fading.

hunters encroached this sacred space
death himself leaned in, posthaste…fading.

they did not come at dusk to graze
the lovely doe with young erased…fading

bullet blasts had pierced the dusky haze
under cloak of night the fields were razed …fading

take time to grieve kat, these darks days
it’s a lot to take in, hate on display…fading

~kat

It all came crashing in today…did I tell you about the roadside roundup we saw on the main road near my home? There were two police cars, lights strobing as 4 officers surround a young man with light brown skin, wearing a baseball cap…my first thought…is it happening here now?

Then last night someone nearby was shooting a rifle, each round unsettling the peace, and all I could think about were the beautiful deer who graze on my property. “I hope they’re okay,” I thought.

Tonight was especially quiet, the turkeys made their usual trek up the hill toward the woods, but the deer who always pass through around the same time were nowhere to be seen. My heart sank. Did they succumb to that late night shooter…or did they just disburse into the mountains, frightened by the sound and of gunfire. I’m hoping the latter and that in a day or two I’ll see them again.

And then it hit me. I need to grieve. At first the firings and the deportations, the shuttering of institutions, etc., etc., etc., were a distant news event that disturbed and concerned me but had not yet touched me personally. This week we all felt the sting of a president gone dictator as we each became marks for his wave of destruction and cruelty.

I need to grieve every loss before the weight of it all breaks me. I still hope the deer return for a pass through from the far off hills. I hope that those who have been cruelly fired are able to find work, I hope those wrongly incarcerated or deported will be returned home. I grieve for them all, and for the broken global alliances that have been shattered by the heavy hand of a single man with an insatiable ego. I need to grieve what we’ve lost so far. I still grieve for the children separated cruelly from their parents during 45’s first term. I grieve for all the children. They don’t deserve the trash heap we’re leaving to them. So much to grieve that I’ve been holding inside trying to be strong.

That’s my glimmer for today. Stop holding your breath, waiting for the next horrible thing. The left shoe has dropped… breathe…let go the fear…the pain, as you exhale…now grieve and breathe again.

Much love, peace, and glimmers to you.

~kat ✨💚✨


A Ghazal for today’s NaGloPoWriMo 8 April 2025 prompt: try writing your own ghazal that takes the form of a love song – however you want to define that. Observe the conventions of the repeated word, including your own name (or a reference to yourself) and having the stanzas present independent thoughts along a single theme – a meditation, not a story.


NaGloPoWriMo 3 April 2025 – Glimmer Day 92

one plus one equals two

if we’re comparing decimals
i think the dewey kind
I loved perusing card files
for books I sought to find
a statement that’s conditional
shouldn’t need an if and then
if you were to mention cosines
I might ask you for a pen
when looking for a difference
it’s perception I employ
I’m not sure that it makes sense
“to find the difference…take away”
I cannot comprehend the math of
a, b, c, d, y and x
to me their value is in words
they’re building blocks of text
math and numbers rattle me,
a wordsmith to the core,
counting syllables at best I’ll do
equations I abhor
oh I can do the basics
add, subtract, and multiply
but I’m a writer not a math wiz
you ask what…and I ask why

~kat

I’m definitely not into math. I’m forced to use it in my job, creating formulas in excel, doing balance sheets. It stresses me. After a day with my nose in numbers, I’m exhausted. But my job isn’t all numbers. I plan international travel itineraries, manage a series of monthly newsletters, write tutorials and SOPs (standard operating procedures), transcribe meeting notes and actions, manage calendars and schedule meetings. My day job involves only a small fraction of math…until recently. Now we’re drowning in tariff mitigations. It’s a self inflicted (by Donald T) catastrophe that has my team scrambling. “Just the numbers,” my boss tells us. “I need numbers.” **Sigh**

I don’t need numbers. I need words. I need affirmations to get me through the latest chaotic whims of this terrible administration.   I need glimmers…every. single. day. I noticed this scene on my nightly walk this evening. Right on time. A glimmer, stirring lovely memories of  my beloved rescue pup, Theo. This was his favorite spot in our yard. He loved those pink flamingos placed under our huge white oak tree. We’ve been waiting for the ground to thaw and soften to receive Theo’s ashes. Even in the bitter there is sweetness. 

Much love, peace, and glimmers to you. 

~kat

pink flamingoes under the old white oak
Theo

NaGloPoWriMo 3 April 2025 prompt: write a poem that obliquely explains why you are a poet and not some other kind of artist – or, if you think of yourself as more of a musician or painter (or school bus driver or scuba diver or expert on medieval Maltese banking) – explain why you are that and not something else!


Day 91 – NaGloPoWriMo 4.2.2025

mother in exile

once great, colossus stands in shame on Liberty’s guarded shores
sounding the alarm she cries to pilgrims near and far
you are no longer welcome here at these tall shuttered gates
her torch has been extinguished by a cruel wave of hate
she’s a mother now in exile, since they stripped her of her name
she weeps for all her children, “please don’t come here, it’s not safe.”
the torch she once held high went dark in 1984
its replacement never glowed as bright as it had shined before
the tired, poor, the refugees, still came to seek her face
but the gatekeepers decided that these souls should be erased
the pillars on the hill are toppling, tumbling to the ground
no freedom or democracy, as a dictator is crowned
the world watched in horror as the great colossus fell
history once again repeating, truth, future tomes will tell

~kat

NaGloPoWriMo 2025 – Prompt: write a poem that directly addresses someone, and that includes a made-up word, an odd/unusual simile, a statement of “fact,” and something that seems out of place in time (like a Sonny & Cher song in a poem about a Greek myth).

I took my inspiration from the poem by Emma Lazarus. The poem and a few facts are listed below.

To my international friends…I’m so sorry my country’s poor choice in electing a crazy person now affects you as well. The latest news from the rose garden…tariffs. It all feels scary and messed up. But here is a fun fact that illustrates what a band of lunatics are in charge!

There were substantial tariffs imposed on two uninhabited volcanic islands… well one of them is inhabited by penguins, seals, and seagulls. Social media had a field day…

“The Heard Island and McDonald penguins have been taking advantage of us for too long – it’s about time we stood up to them!” former New Jersey congressman Tom Malinowski joked on X.

Sometimes all you can do is laugh at the craziness. We’re all waiting I’m sure to see if the penguins decide to impose a retaliatory tariff on us!…there’s your glimmer for today. It’s impossible to take any of this seriously even though it is dead serious. All I can say is, be kind to those you encounter. Be a glimmer in someone’s life. We’ll get through this…together.

Much love, peace and glimmers to you…and penguins…I’m hoping to stay on their good side!

~kat


“The New Colossus” is a sonnet by American poet Emma Lazarus (1849–1887). She wrote the poem in 1883 to raise money for the construction of a pedestal for the Statue of Liberty (Liberty Enlightening the World). In 1903, the poem was cast onto a bronze plaque and mounted inside the pedestal’s lower level.

The New Colossus

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

~Emma Lazarus