Category Archives: Life Lessons

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


day 88 ~ a ReVerse Poem

a ReVerse Poem ~ Sunday, March 30, 2025

we see the smoke billowing, blotting out the sky
liberty mourns for her children
death moans lazily
it was great for a while
there once was an old gal who rarely got sick
forced me to choose, I chose | to speak truth to power
overwhelming to bear
in my little world
call her what you will
winter is lingering
a dawn visitation
nature sings her song of spring
you cannot break us, not today

~kat


Interesting, challenging times we’re living in. It’s a time when writing this blog, and especially chronicling the truth of what is happening in my country feels like a bold act of resistance. These days other, more vulnerable people (due to their citizenship status) are randomly singled out by masked vigilantes (I don’t believe for a minute that these people are actual legally deputized law enforcement) and disappeared from sight to god knows where with no due process or recourse. It gives me pause. It should give all of us pause. In a matter of roughly 2 months the America I knew has been given over to criminals armed with the power to dismantle checks and balances, safety nets and systems, as they set the stage to coronate as dictator king, a felonious, serial predator, and liar who seeks to colonize and rule the western continents alongside his comrade with like motivations in the east.

I keep asking myself if I’m overreacting as ignorant, maga lemmings chide me that it’s not that bad, certainly not as bad as when “other” democratic leaders flanked the helm. It’s madness…or maybe I’m just mad, as in insane, but also as in angry as hell and incensed by it all. 

So…I’m still here, and will continue use my voice, chronicling what it feels like to experience the end of a democracy. When this year began I determined, for my own sanity that I needed to deal with the fear and angst I was feeling. I found a life-changing article about glimmers. As a refresh…

  • Glimmers are small moments of joy or peace that arise from appreciating simple things like the colors of a rainbow, the scent of a flower, or the sound of the rain.
  • Glimmers and triggers are opposites in that glimmers spark positive feelings while triggers spark negative ones.
  • The practice of noticing and appreciating glimmers can cue your nervous system to relax and have a positive effect on your mental health.
  • To increase the odds of noticing glimmers, spend time in places that nourish you, connect with people you enjoy, limit screen time, and practice mindfulness.

Read more about glimmers and how they came to be here. Apparently the concept has taken off everywhere. I had no idea at the time I was joining a movement by focusing my little blog on sharing my glimmers with you. (Glimmers in the air…or the water perhaps? 😉) But here we are, and so it is…and most importantly, so it will continue. I have found that I cannot live without them. 

Tomorrow we head into national/global poetry month. My daily focus will remain “glimmers” with the added inspiration from daily prompts. Rest assured I plan to keep the glimmers coming. And I hope you too to take up this practice. We need glimmers now more than ever. 

Much love, peace, and glimmers to you!

~kat ✨✨💚✨✨



day 87

bleeding hearts

our hearts…they bleed more every day
as the world’s woes chip away
small pieces of our tenderness
we’re not alone in our distress
over the cruelty on display

we cling to hope though, come what may
decry the wrongs they’ve put in play
they’ll find that they cannot oppress
our hearts…

determined, we will find a way
to root out hate, it’s not okay
our voices will not be suppressed
our power is togetherness
you cannot break us, not today
our hearts…

~kat

I needed a rally cry today. It’s exhausting, trying to keep up with the latest left shoe dropping in what has become a massive depository of left shoes. Those us us with two left feet should be overjoyed…I’m not BTW…overjoyed, that is. I’m exhausted.

I have been reconnecting with friends and acquaintances to check in on them…to see how they’re doing in the midst of all the chaos and destruction in our country. Some responses have given me pause…”I’m doing great! It’s about time our government leaders clean the swamp…” That is not an answer I hoped to hear, but it lets me know where I stand, and who I can trust.

Now more than ever it’s important to identify the safe places and people in our lives, and to establish meaningful connections with them; to check in with each other regularly. This is not a time in our history to go into hiding, hoping the storm will blow over eventually. We know from history that apathy and avoidance is seen as acquiescence to malevolent oppressors seeking power and control.

So…today’s glimmer assignment, should you choose to accept it…reach out to those glimmering souls in your universe. Be a light for them and surround yourself in their light. “They” (the powers that be) want us to believe we are powerless. That’s a lie. We have each other…and we are legion.

Much love, peace and glimmers to you…btw…I see you ✨💚✨

~kat


Today’s poem is a Rondeau.

The rondeau is a French form of three stanzas, totaling fourteen lines. The rhyme and rhythm are very strict.The first stanza is a quintet (five lines), the second is a quatrain (four lines), and the third and last is a sestet(six lines).

The rhyme scheme is aabba aabR aabbaR. R stands for the refrain which is the first four syllables of the first line of the poem. The rhythm is iambic tetrameter (four beats per line) except for the refrain which is iambic dimeter (two beats).

And one more thing…

Tom stopped by with a word of wisdom. You see, turkey toms generally do not appear this hunky and handsome. But they know how to gussy up, to take up space, to become larger than life by poofing their feathers as they strut into your space. It’s impressive…and intimidating. If we let it, our hearts can do the same for us. Compassion, Love, and Kindness takes up space and is strikingly impressive in the presence of hate. So in a world of MagaDons, (sounds like a dinosaur doesn’t it?! I think it’s time for them to become extinct!)…in the meantime, you know what to do…be a Tom. ✨💚✨