Tag Archives: covid-19

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 ✌️



there is no drama here
no coffee-breath, he said,
she said, I heard, did you know’s,
no traffic, no rude drivers
riding my ass in a hurry to
get nowhere, no whispers,
no prying eyes, no judgment.
here, there is my desk, my
computer, tasks for the day,
routine, sun shining outside
my window, and rain, I don’t
mind it, here there is bird song,
an occasional butterfly flitting by,
it is quiet, I can breathe, I am
breathing at long last, my heart
has settled from my throat to
my chest…I could get used to
this, I have gotten used to
doing what I do without leaving
my house, relishing the freedom
of forced sheltering in place,
these walls no longer feel
confining, as they embrace me
here, safe, well, solitary bliss…
they are planning for us to
return to our cubicles, but
a part of me is hoping
I’ll not be missed


selfish jerks!

I’m disappointed, furious…horrified by my country’s response to COVID-19! Our leaders act like it’s an inconvenience. That ignoring it will just make it go away. They refuse to take responsibility, to model behavior that will help slow the spread; they refuse to accept science and the recommendations of experts. Meanwhile the country’s numbers of new cases are rising, the rest of the world is shutting their doors to us. I don’t blame you. The US is a horrible place to live right now. UGH. UGH. UGH. Anyhow…just getting this off my chest. Poetry is therapy you know…. Hope you are staying safe and for goodness sake, wear a mask and keep your distance when you leave your house. SMH!!

selfish jerks!

your heartlessness is on display
when you refuse to wear a mask
your heartlessness is on display

‘cause nobody should need to ask
it should be common courtesy
when you refuse to wear a mask

claiming your right to liberty
it shows you’re just a selfish jerk
it should be common courtesy

yet you don’t care who you might hurt
you’ve death and sickness on your head
it shows you’re just a selfish jerk

it’s stupid, you could slow the spread
your heartlessness is on display
you’ve death and sickness on your head
your heartlessness is on display


Today’s poetry form is called a Terzanelle:

The Terzanelle is a poetry type which is a combination of the villanelle and the terza rima forms. It is a 19-line poem consisting of five interlocking triplets/tercets plus a concluding quatrain in which the first and third lines of the first triplet appear as refrains. The middle line of each triplet is repeated, reappearing as the last line of the succeeding triplet with the exception of the center line of the next-to-the-last stanza which appears in the quatrain. The rhyme and refrain scheme for the triplets is as follows: 

1. A
2. B
3. A

4. b
5. C
6. B

7. c
8. D
9. C

10. d
11. E
12. D

13. e
14. F
15. E

Ending Type 1:

16. f
17. A 
18. F
19. A

Ending Type 2:

16. f
17. F
18. A
19. A

Each line of the poem should be the same metrical length.

remembering the cure

when we reflect on how it was
years from now when we are safe
will we remember kindness flowed
it is my hope we do, because
we learned a precious lesson then
when nature had her way with us
our differences tossed to the wind
ashes to the ashes, dust to dust
when sorrow gripped the human race
will we remember kindness flowed
when souls were cured through acts of love


Magic 11 poem – my variation on the Magic 9 poem, a 9-line poem that doesn’t have any rules as far as meter or subject matter–just a rhyme scheme: abacadaba. Enter the Magic 11 abracadabra poem with the r’s intact, placeholders for a refrain. Rhyme scheme: abRacadabRa. (R for the refrain).

the year spring never came

the year spring never came

if we had paid attention to the signs that long, wet
winter, we might have known that spring would never
come, even though nature took her cues from the
moon and sun, as remnants of frosting melted and gentle
rain drenched the dormant soil, seeds sprouted toward
the warmth, toward the light; soon clusters of creeping
buttercups, henbits, chickweed, wild violets, dandelions
and daffodils lulled us into believing that it was
spring, but I tell you, spring never came that year,
the world stopped spinning, life stopped living as
we peered at each other from across alley ways and live
chat screens, winter held fast as the reaper jumped
season mowing us down with his sickle, a harvest
of untouchables, legions of them stacked floor to
ceiling on ice, mourners left with nothing to show
for their sorrow…no, spring never came that year,
summer too, lost her luster to empty streets, abandoned
subways, beaches, and empty watering holes where
masked ghosts hurried about never mingling, mercifully
autumn stepped in bidding us to let go, let go, let go, let go…
as another winter loomed darker still, no mention of spring


For NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo Challenge Day 30: write a poem about something that returns.

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