Tag Archives: Poetry

Cherita ~ Day 25

i could tell you

it is too soon for spring
another icy snap is inevitable

but you won’t listen
which is why I love you
fearless are you in fragility



Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 25 February 2018

If you are reading this, you have survived another week on this planet. It’s a crap shoot isn’t it? We are born into this complicated world with a fierce sense of survival that is so easily swayed by false senses of security. The truth is, as the sayings go, “none of us are promised tomorrow” for “we will not leave this place alive”. Which is all the more reason to seize each moment.

Still, it’s hard not to worry, to suffer angst and fear. Fear is a heartless beast. It likes to build on hypotheticals and what ifs. Even more despicable are those who exploit and profit from its proliferation.

But, what if we could accept the inevidabilty of our mortality. What if we were not afraid of our emotions; the highs and the lows and actually embraced the exquisite passion to be found in ecstasy and in grief?

Would the fear-mongers have less control over us? In truth, they would like nothing more than to dictate to us how we should be feeling. They thrive because we are willing to abdicate our freedom to their twisted protectionism. Resignation and compliance is the price of liberty they say. But it is not freedom.

We are not free unless we shed our dependence on powerful others who have only their own best interests at heart, and take our rightful place as individuals. We need each other we say, but not for reasons the powerful would have us believe. We need others who remind us that we are valued; that our dreams and hopes are worthwhile endeavors; that give us room to live and feel, and yes, even die with dignity; that we are perfect even in our imperfections; that we are mortal and yet magnificent in each breath we take, each tear we shed, each utterance of joy. And we are free only when we are fearless.

How is this possible? Well, you know…you do. It is today and you are here, breathing. There is this. A simple, single moment to savor. Is it enough? If you can answer “yes!” then you know true freedom and nobody can take that away.

Peace and kindness to you. Have a wonderful moment…have many!

Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 25 February 2018

the sting of loss settling in
winter bones shimmer
more like hopeless
swelling in the mist,
it’s already old news…
but it’s a temporary fix,
it’s okay if you don’t want to admit it.
flag at half staff
the fog clears
amidst the cacophony
all honor is slain
I see you, alright?!
a songbird sings
a change is coming
the fall of an empire.
listening to the wind
there’s a hint
no one sees…
my heart knows
innocence cannot be restored
a face in the crowd


A ReVerse poem 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.

Cherita – Day 24

breach in the wall

what mysteries are hidden
behind your stone face?

those who peer through may learn
some things are better left hidden…
innocence cannot be restored


So…I had an “whoa-nelly” moment after I posted the artwork for today’s Cherita. I had taken a photo of a pile of rocks on my back porch (a collection from my dog who likes to eat them!) and I added a little lens flare to the breach in the pile…BUT I did not see the eye peering at me just above the light until after I posted it. Oh my! It was not at all intentionally fabricated! I think I am having a serendipitous moment. I love when that happens!

For a point of reference, here’s the original photo!

Saturday with the Muse

make no promises
if you love me
please don’t say
only the things
I want to hear
my heart knows
that is not love

no one sees her
brokenness, for she
is always smiling
but the blush on
her cheeks gives
her dark secret away

there’s a hint
of spring in the
cool mist after it
rains…a symphony
of sweetness on
the wind, greening

I fall out of
harmony with my
beautiful wild nature
when I stop
listening to the wind


Magnetic Poetry

Rasputin – Friday’s Word of the Day

Friday’s Word of the Day at Dictionary.com is Rasputin. It is defined as

1. any person who exercises great but insidious influence;

2. named for Grigori Efimovich Rasputin, 1871 – 1916, a Siberian peasant monk who was very influential at the court of Czar Nicholas II and Czarina Alexandra.

Dictionary.com gives the following summary on the origin of this eponym (a word relating to, or being the person or thing for whom or which something is named: of, relating to.):

Grigori Efimovich Rasputin (c1871-1916) was a Russian peasant and self-proclaimed mystic and holy man (he had no official position in the Russian Orthodox Church). By 1904 Rasputin was popular among the high society of St. Petersburg, and in 1906 he became the healer of Alexei Nikolaevich Romanov, heir to the Russian throne and the hemophiliac son of Czar Nicholas II and his wife, Czarina Alexandra Feodorovna (a granddaughter of Queen Victoria and a carrier of hemophilia). In December 1916 Rasputin was murdered by Russian noblemen because of his influence over Czar Nicholas and the czarina.

Rasputin, I learned, is something of a legend. He was a towering man at 6’4”, believed to be a healer with clairvoyant powers. He had a wild appearance, that earned him the nickname, the “mad monk”. Though he was married and had a daughter and two sons, he earned notoriety as a philanderer and drunkard. Oddly his promiscuous behavior was, according to him, a religious practice. He believed that in order to be redeemed of sin, one must immerse oneself in it. Word of his orgies, that he called sessions of “rejoicing”, spread, much to the displeasure of the Orthodox Church. Despite his horrible hygiene, he had plenty of willing partners and hundreds of followers who called themselves “Rasputinkis.”

Eventually his wild living caught up with him. Several attempts were made on his life. The first was made by a masked woman who stabbed his abdomen so violently his entrails spilled out. The intervention of a surgeon saved him that time.

He would eventually meet his end but, as his murderer would learn, Rasputin was not an easy man to kill. On a single night, he was poisoned, which only seemed to give him a buzz, shot four times, with one bullet directly to his head, followed by a severe bludgeoning and finally he was bound and tossed into a frozen river. An autopsy later showed that he died from drowning and hypothermia, even after being poisoned, shot, beaten and, some believe, castrated. His pickled member was supposedly displayed throughout the region, a relic of sorts, said to have properties that could cure men of impotence.

Everything about Rasputin was larger than life. But it was his sinister control over the Romanoffs that eventually led to his demise and soon after, the fall of an empire.

Today we use the word Rasputin to describe someone who has evil influence over someone in power. I can think of a few examples…

Frankenstein’s Igor,
Bush’s Cheney, Trump’s Bannon,
ruthless Rasputins


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