The Gift

purple skies

Purple skies

the gift of sunset

and sunrise

morning dew

with opportunities new

wrapped in silhouette


Softly shift

kaleidoscope clouds

float and drift

a whimsy

artist’s palette blossoming

tomorrow unbound.


dVerse – Lillian is hosting at the Pub today and asks us to write poems that include the word “gift”.


I’ll Wait

chair cat

A fresh coat of paint and nails hammered into place to secure loose boards won’t mend this broken heart.  Curl up and wait for you to come home, soak up sunbeams and hide in shadows of  the overhead shade tree.  When the wind blows, and sets the old chair to rocking, I think of you there, of us, and the way it used to be and it soothes the ache, however slightly.  Little by little, I find comfort in memories.

You left in the Fall

trees caught fire, red and orange

leaves blew in the wind.


dVerse – Haibun Monday and Kintsugi: The Art of Broken Pieces.

Luck’s Fortune

Her fortune said, “Not likely to happen”.

Challenge accepted she said to herself.

A song in her heart started toes tappin’

Guarded for too long, she slid from the shelf.

“A penny for your thoughts,” he said, laughin’.

Rich beyond measure, his love was her wealth.

The murky bottom of the well is wise:

“someone loves to see the light in your eyes”.


dVerse  – Frank is hosting and asks us to write Ottava Rima poems.

Pushing Up Daisies

*It’s a little dark.  Sorry.  Kind of in a weird place.

Colorless day

shades of gray

torment the sky

as it heaves a sigh

– drops




stinging swells of song

as if it cries


to the gaping hole in the ground

where worms and maggots

and sleep

will abound.


dVerse – Paul hosts Poetics and asks us to ‘go underground’.




Season of Change

Cue spring-time dawn

a lull in scars

fireflies in jars

journey through open windows,

melt shadow ghosts

breathe rose-scented giggles

the sound of drizzle and breeze

dance a green shimmer-twist bubble,

spill leaves that curl and skip,

spark balloon clouds,

still a floating whisper-echo.


dVerse – Quadrille Monday (with all the words).


wordle 300

She’s sunshine and spring blossoms

and it’s no wonder

she caused them to find no trace

when she tire(d) of a stilted line

and trips on flimsy lies.

A message will sing if you hear it enough.

She’s done listening so she’ll run

– always three feet toward the sun.


Sunday Whirl.