In the Beginning

In the Beginning



Sounds had no order, no form

Each note played randomly,

like early morning birdsong


Chaos was the melody that filled the air

Harmony, just an illusion, a vanishing act

performed by strumming magicians


Instruments rang out in unrhythmic time

and there was no key to unlock the secret

Until someone began to bang the drum –


and music was born


No Frog, No Sound

No Frog, No Sound


This poem is a shadow of

its former self, shedding syllables,

leaving a trail of letters behind




Its feet leave no trace of rhythm

There are no stanzas left, no

couplets standing in the moonlight

It can no longer count to 5-7-5

All that remains is an old pond

Day 15 of PAD has us writing a shadow poem

Think No More of Me

Think No More of Me


Forgive me for seeming timid

Or shy, or quiet, or rude

Forgive me for appearing to be polite

Well mannered, courteous, but

 I ask no forgiveness for my feelings


I hold them in my heart where

They are guarded from judgement

They are the music of my soul

They belong only to me


They’re the percussive blow of grief

The vibrato of pulsating joy

The solo of winter-like loneliness

The persistent tinkling of hope

And I share them only with you




A Found Poem

A Found Poem


Where have you been little poem?

Your feet are muddy and you are


dripping syllables . You are covered in

worn-out phrases and inky smudges.


There seems to be no rhyme

to this form of yours. No line of reason


or hint of season in your wordy count(enance).

Let me wrap you in warm metered stanzas.


Let me embrace you with a loving simile.

Let me be the refrain in your rhythmic scheme.

Day 11 of NaPoWriMo

Finding Me

Finding Me


Stand in the moonlight, preferably in bare feet

Release a small cathartic howl

Intone a prayer and send it spinning

Listen for the chattering of the wind

Wait for stillness

Turn your face upward

Feel gentle moonbeam kisses

Stretch your fingers skyward

Trace pictures on the dark cavas of night

Close your eyes

Conjure up my being in your heart

Day 7 at Na/GloPoWriMo

Conjuring Memories

Conjuring Memories



It’s not the yeasty smell of

Freshly baked bread or

The peppery smell of roses

The bring her back to me.

Although her oven produced

Magical loaves and her garden

Simmered with old fashioned roses,

It is the sharp, medicinal smell of

Vicks Vap-o-rub that conjures up

My mother’s memory and her gentle

Fingers smoothing the chilly potion

Over my sickly chest, spreading love.


Day 6 of PAD




It’s not your words, filtered through your teeth,

tumbled by your tongue, that reach into my soul,

that quiver my heart, that spin my world. It’s

the rise and fall of your breath, the gentle tone

of love, the tenderness of silence, that reach across

this space between us and bring me strength.


I used the poem Kirum, by Eva Gerlach as my inspiration.

An Ambiguous Connection

Day 3 of April PAD has us writing a connection poem

An Ambiguous Connection


I think there must be a connection

between the Sun and the Moon.

Some hidden connection that pulls

the Sun up and the Moon down.


A thin line of spinning stars

pushing and pulling through

Sunrise to Moonrise.

An invisible line of galactic glory


keeping the Sun and Moon apart.

But every now and then, the stars

drift away, maybe to party,

and the Sun and the Moon


both shine down on me.