Category: Poem

  • Status: Unfriended

    Status: Unfriended

    We took for granted those easy days, believing in bonds, implicit contracts, soul groups, & kinships. Hugs were warm & kisses real. We could smell the hot coffee brewing for the brunches.   Life…the miles… left us in the wilderness without food or drink or matches, only emojis, tags, and…

  • Sunday Best: Light & Scars

    Sunday Best: Light & Scars

    It’s so nice to get recognition for your work! Thank you so much, Free Verse Revolution. Dear Readers, please scroll down to the part on Scars. (UPDATE: This poem is archived – the link no longer works – because FREE VERSE REVOLUTION has a new literary magazine. If you wish…

  • The Art of War: Enter the Dragon

    The Art of War: Enter the Dragon

    The Art of War: Enter the Dragon He sees me at a distance from the Salvation Army. The soft glow of my white hair, my short stature and square hips, a slight limp, a slow stride, I am an easy mark to a desperate bully. Mam! Mam! Come here! Come…

  • An Imperfect Bride

    An Imperfect Bride

    Let’s go! It’s time! Now!? I’m still in my floral blue knit night gown, plum-colored sweatshirt, & baby doll slippers from Walmart! No one will see you or care. Not important. An uncharged phone? A half-packed purse? Uncompleted morning duties? I gather myself, an imperfect bride, for the trip. I…

  • Kama

    Kama

    Royal honey is the blood of my womb, lush creation, even messy havoc, hungry for birth. I am Kama. My desire burns as the sun; I breathe floral light, savor the dusty bloom of your earth & devour your elixir. I enchant you with my dance & song:    …

  • The Visitant

    The Visitant

    A house that grows taller may collapse or be reborn,  its brick spine realigned, & new colors applied to the relic. This house stands rigid in gauzy light, an old man using breeze as an inhaler. The front steps creak under the Visitant, bearing cerements. The porch, a broken hip…

  • Summer’s End

    Summer’s End

    From seedlings in spring to tall grasses in summer sun, we stand, scanning the lapping currents from our spot. Clinging to trees, cicadas call out an endless shrill. Water bugs mate and die while widow skimmers dance on the waves in bright light. A turtle basks on a dead limb that’s caught in…

  • Searching

    Searching

    I am crying for the Amazon because the loss of animal life and the trees is devastating. This poem honors our forests, the arms of the Goddess, still reaching out to us though we forget who she is, our dear Mother Earth. The way goes deep into these dark woods.…

  • The Sound of Silence

    The Sound of Silence

    Listening for silence Is like living with tinnitus. The ears ringing resounding notes. Chicks chirping for food. Roosters crowing their warnings. The chorus of frogs mating. Cicadas rejoicing In their summer release From years of birthing In their earth womb. Released, they scream their tunes Playing their tymbals for mates. …

  • Picking Blueberries with Mom

    Picking Blueberries with Mom

    This poem is hyperlinked to an article I wrote for Phoebe, MD: Medicine + Poetry (https://phoebemd.com/2020/03/21/grief-healing-through-poetry/). The article is based on my poetry podcast Grief: Fire and Ice (https://meelosmom.podbean.com/e/grief-fire-and-ice/). Picking Blueberries with Mom On hot summer Michigan days, Mom loved picking wild blueberries. We would be on that promised trip…