Tag Archives: Poetry



i see things
things no one else can see
and i hear voices, audible, clear
as clear as i am speaking to you this moment
‘they have medication,’ you whisper
to silence the voices.’
if you knew
what it is like to be
just a tad twisted, you’d want it too
this superpower…to plunge into the abyss
to emerge free, illuminated
having slept with the muse
her kisses
sweet as honey, boiling
singeing you from your core to your skin
through your veins, from beating heart, excruciating,
electricity’s spark pulsating
to finger tips, burning
write it down
it takes madness, a touch,
to see the world as I do…listen
can you hear the rose petals laughing, leaves trembling?
oh, nothing compares to lunacy
keep your medication
leave me be.


A Triquain Swirl (3-6-9-12-9-6-3-6-…etc) for Mind Love Misery’s Menagerie Sunday Writing Prompt: This week’s focus is super powers.

It Could Happen… NaPoWriMo 2018 – Day 22

Day 22 – NaPoWriMo 2018 Prompt: take one of the following statements of something impossible, and then write a poem in which the impossible thing happens:
The sun can’t rise in the west.
A circle can’t have corners.
Pigs can’t fly.
The clock can’t strike thirteen.
The stars cannot rearrange themselves in the sky.
A mouse can’t eat an elephant.

You know me. when given a list and a choice, I generally choose them all. It’s a running theme.

It Could Happen…

that day when pigs flew, it’s true,
first class, no less, to avoid
all the mice that they’d trapped in
their wheels, churning in circles
producing square profits for
bottom line trawlers, that day
when stars realigned and the
mice jumped their traps, devouring
the elephants in the room
all this, they did, just past noon,
at thirteen zero zero;
mice, in chorus, were heroes
that day we’ll remember,
when news traveled the wires
dawning bright, east to the west
a sweeping blue wave changed
history’s course, what a day
when impossible dreamers
dreamed dreams once again
and tea bagging cups dug graves,
their own, with silvery spoons
that day, the pigs flew the coups


Details! Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 22 April 2018

Details, details…please don’t be bothered by them in this week’s reverse. It all sounds so gloomy and doomy, but those are just the facts, ma’am. I get it. But the bottom line? If the first 4/5ths of this weave don’t swallow you in the details, you’ll make it to my unsinkable mantra. Always the optimist, and why the hell not. We might as well make the best of it (my it, your it, the it’s, of course may, and do, vary). That is to say again, for the record, be kind, most of all to yourself. Go gently into the coming week!

Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 22 April 2018

latticed burst of crimson
I’ll write it for you in blood / worm-feed in an unmarked grave
carnage marks its path
to blame for its untimely end
flowers; withering, death
What’s left of it
red danger on display,
burning those who get too close…
cried myth
I wonder what will become of us?
far from dandy, indeed, blown to hell
nomadic, wind riders
receiving a rose
mean rain, or so you’d guess,
sometimes, when I dream
ballads, wild psychedelic trips, mania, decades
though stormy clouds may loom, life is good
it’s an odd coupling
history will prove it when less is at stake
roots planted, shallowly


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.

Florescence Day 21

bonsai, Chinese elm tree
roots planted, shallowly
soil, pebbles, and peat, micro-sized


For Jane’s Day 21 Florescence. A few hours late. Was traveling today.

A Tall Tale

it’s a tale of woe if there ever was one

of a beautiful boy with beautiful hands

a spinner of deals, like no deals ever spun

a boastful lone tweeter who ruled o’er the land

above all, ‘twas loyalty, blind and unquestioning

that he demanded of those in his court

this one-sided toll would become the reckoning

of this narcissist leader who lied just for sport

he surrounded himself with fawners and yessers

with donors and wannabe moguls and fools,

oligarchs too, horsebacked underdressers,

gaslighting the masses, he broke every rule

then one day a hero emerged on the council

a true man of honor, a keeper of justice

one by one he indicted court jesters until

only two of the fawners were left on the list

a scrapper called fixer would squeal for his skin

while a stormy cloud’s lining loomed brash on display

with no favors to claim and his chips all cashed in

the man boy had run out of aces to play

It’s a sad day you know when not everyone’s thrilled

to be rid of the terrible reign of this fool

I’ve kept the main players anon, if you will

to say them out loud; that just wouldn’t be cool

some folks believe that this whole thing is fake

it’s hard to believe it could really be true

history will prove it when less is at stake

how a villainous braggart staged a great coup.


An Epic poem for NaPoWriMo Day 21, Prompt: try writing a poem that plays with the myth of narcissist in some way.

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