Category Archives: Random Thoughts and Musings

Sunday’s ReVerse – 6 September 2020

I had to scroll back weeks to find where I left off to glean snapshots of my thoughts for this ReVerse. It’s been an exhausting summer. It’s been an exhausting year. 2020. In hindsight will our vision become clearer? It’s hard to say, I suppose. This year isn’t over yet. I believe we have a fighting chance if we are able to elect a new president here in the states, with an experienced and competent team of experts at the helm. They will have a lot to clean up. Another four years of this nightmare would…well, let’s not go there just yet. I’m holding out hope that people of good will will do the right thing and vote for decency and sanity. But what do I know?

In the meantime I am determined to write more and angst less. It’s a tall order for my empathic monkey brain! And my muse? Poor thing. I’m afraid I’ve sent her into hiding more often than not these days. She doesn’t take kindly to brooding. But it is time to make peace with her and myself and do what I do. Write my heart and soul out. It may not always be pretty, but at least I’ll be keeping it real, and myself from the abyss!

I do hope this coming week is a good one for you…for all of us. Counting my blessings…I have a home, food to eat, a four-day a week job (the fifth day was furloughed…but hey, it’s a job), I have people who love me, animals that follow me everywhere, and my soul. What more could a body need? Suffice to say I am grateful this sunny Sunday as I take a moment to breathe. Peace and love all. ❤️

Sunday’s ReVerse – 6 September 2020

it’s going to be a slow recovery
it’s the little things you know
like a kiss, soft, slow,
in its sweetness, charged
amidst a sea of jewels rising
here, safe, well, solitary bliss…
I’ll never say I told you so
I bite my tongue and bide the time
remember to breathe
while the world burns
as the nights grow long


A ReVerse poem (a practice I started many years ago) 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 ReVerse features the words of one writer, providing a glimpse into their thoughts over time. I use it as a review of the previous week…or in this case, the past few months!

summer fading

berries on the vine
cold nip in the airs
summer softly fading
blossoms bursting seed

tree boughs gently rustle
baring their souls
as the nights grow long
full moon lingering, come dawn


Brought out the Nature Poet Kit magnets today. It is a gorgeous, sunny, cool day. But dusk is coming too soon.

the unraveling

the unraveling

the tapestry is unraveling
earthy tones of brown and
tan, yellow and red fading,
white patches soiled from
blood and tears, offering no
warmth, no consolation,
threads splintering, breaking
unable to hold together the
dreams of the innocents
wrapped in it like a shroud…
where are the seamstresses
with steady hands and nimble
fingers, trembling with needles,
eyes too narrow to thread, to
mend the tatters, to scrub
the fabric clean, to restore
the tapestry, or better yet,
to weave a new cloth, one
that is brilliant, softened
with batting, large enough
to cover all who slumber,
to shield us from nightmares,
from the darkest of nights,
to bring us safely to the dawn
we’re hanging by a thread
tossed by tempests, trembling,
chilled to our bones
while the world burns


Crawling out from under my rock. Sorry for my recent silence. I confess that I have been overwhelmed of late by what’s happening to our brothers and sisters of color, to those sick and dying from the pandemic, from the lies of our leaders, from the hate ravaging our streets, disturbing the ardent pleas of peaceful protesters, from sheltering in (sheltering…what a benign word…sheltering). I have struggled to find words, forgetting that it is words that save me from the abyss; that help me get out of my head. I hope everyone is staying safe and well. I hope…at least I am trying to even as the dawn seems so very far away. Peace ✌️


when the sun ceases
when no sound is heard
when the moon and the stars
sigh in melancholy, mournful silence
when, in sleep, earth forgets to bloom
remember to breathe
let not sorrow cloud your happiness


A blackout poem based on this lovely poem by Anne Plato.

Forget Me Not
Ann Plato

When in the morning’s misty hour,
When the sun beams gently o’er each flower;
When thou dost cease to smile benign,
And think each heart responds with thine,
When seeking rest among divine,
                                    Forget me not.

When the last rays of twilight fall,
And thou art pacing yonder hall;
When mists are gathering on the hill,
Nor sound is heard save mountain rill,
When all around bids peace be still,
Forget me not.

When the first star with brilliance bright,
Gleams lonely o’er the arch of night;
When the bright moon dispels the gloom,
And various are the stars that bloom,
And brighten as the sun at noon,
 Forget me not.

When solemn sighs the hollow wind,
And deepen’d thought enraps the mind;
If e’er thou doest in mournful tone,
E’er sigh because thou feel alone,
Or wrapt in melancholy prone,
Forget me not.

When bird does wait thy absence long,
Nor tend unto its morning song;
While thou art searching stoic page,
Or listening to an ancient sage,
Whose spirit curbs a mournful rage,
Forget me not.

Then when in silence thou doest walk,
Nor being round with whom to talk;
When thou art on the mighty deep,
And do in quiet action sleep;
If we no more on earth do meet,
Forget me not.

When brightness round thee long shall bloom,
And knelt remembering those in gloom;
And when in deep oblivion’s shade,
This breathless, mouldering form is laid,
And thy terrestrial body staid,
Forget me not.

“Should sorrow cloud thy coming years,
And bathe thy happiness in tears,
Remember, though we’re doom’d to part,
There lives one fond and faithful heart,
That will forget thee not.”

This poem is in the public domain. Published in Poem-a-Day on August 2, 2020 by the Academy of American Poets.


little piggies at the market – a rant

little piggies at the market – a rant

when you refuse to wear a mask
and stand too close to me in line
I bite my tongue and bide the time
and mumble to myself, ‘you ass’

is courtesy too much to ask,
or kindness, manners? what the hell!
who made you special, huh? do tell!
it’s freedom, liberty you prize
no matter who gets sick or dies
i wish…no that’s not nice…you well


For today’s challenge at RonovanWrites, a Décima where the word PRIZE must be one of the D line words. Then the other D line(s) word(s) must rhyme with PRIZE.

A Décima is a 10-line poem with 8 syllables per line. The rhyme pattern is: abbaaccddc. Further study of this form indicates that the subject matter of a Décima tends to be more socially conscious than some poems, taking on topics such as philosophy, politics, dogma, and religion. It can also be in the form of satire, criticism or insulting to an enemy/opponent in a situation. 

Sometimes you break the rhyme into two stanzas using the following rhyme pattern.


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