Monthly Archives: September 2016

For Today

When we clothe ourselves in the past
we are suffocating our future
like a wool scarf wrapped around the neck
during a long, stifling summer

These photographs on the wall
a reminder of all we have worked for
all we have accomplished
the adventures and the love

I could cry like I did yesterday
and long for the good times
the beginning of a journey
that would indefinitely change its course

I could enshroud myself in regret
and guilt and longing
like I have many times
looking through the cracked mirror

But then I am not breathing
am not truly living
So I must inhale the air of the present
nod to those smiling photographs

Know I have done good in this life
and there is much more to do
unravel the woolen suppression
unbound by the virtue of today’s truth.


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Filed under Sunday Night Sonnet

When the Sea was Calm

When the sea was calm
I was restless
awaiting the flip
of a mermaid’s tail

And when it did not
come into view
I closed my eyes and
floated for a few

Then the swish of the
shimmering propeller came
and I welcomed it joyfully
and she the same

The sea swirled around us
and we became a team
swimming underneath
the stars and sun
Our movements synchronized
our thoughts one

And the swirls continued
and the restlessness passed
nagging loneliness
lifted at last

Her gleaming essence
my solace in waters of blue-green
her songs always calling to me
Her fondness growing as well
as she inhaled breaths
of my starry air

Then swirls became waves
and waves became storms
we held tight to each other
never washing upon the shore

But there was nowhere to dock
nowhere to keep moored

Our cadence continues
on the high seas
her fins never tire
my feet never sleep

We sometimes dream
when all was composed
when restlessness
was all we owned

But the truth among
the swish and the stars
is that our sea
was never really calm.


Photo courtesy of


Filed under Sunday Night Sonnet

Spirograph and Worn Antiques

I have been thinking a lot about my grandmother lately. The one who is deceased, not the one who is alive. Granny is still dipping snuff and listening to country music in her ranch-style home. Nana is somewhere with that great spirit in the sky, perhaps noshing on walnuts and dancing to Glenn Miller.

But I have felt her presence lately. I’m not sure why she has decided to visit but I will welcome it nevertheless.

The other day I was sitting at the dining room table, a worn 1920’s set I inherited from Nana’s mother. For a moment I was ten again, or rather wished I was. I could hear echoes of my cousin’s laughter and smell the buttered toast Nana would broil for us every morning. I could see her spinning in the front room to the sound of the jazz album. I could feel the spongy firmness of the big eraser I used to delete scattered lines from my latest Spirograph design.

There was always something to do at Nana and Papa’s. Whether it was trudging and scavenging and playing among Papa’s junk yard or dancing to the music from the turn table and playing “Office” in the living room or being a guinea pig in one of my older cousin’s traps or home-made haunted houses in the basement.

Sometimes it feels like those times were a hundred years ago. But thank god I have those memories at least.

I love that my own son now plays around that worn antique set. Does his homework there. Builds Legos. Has chatty weeknight dinners with me there. I bought him a Spirograph set a while back. He didn’t quite take to it like I thought he would.

I think my Nana would be proud of me for the most part. Maybe that’s why she visits from time to time. Just to let me know.

And to remind me to keep dancing.

glenn miller dancing




Filed under Yep I'm Becoming My Mother

Not Just Grey Matter

We’re sun-kissed and
not just grey matter
Hopeless romantics and dreamers
Keepers of secrets
collectors of quartz and jasper

We listen to guitar and synth
and violin

Take out the garbage
bring some in

On this plane we have evolved
no more screaming in the driveway
all is calm

No we are not just grey matter
We are of the same blood
forever connected

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Filed under Sunday Night Sonnet