Category: PAD

A Reply From Narcissus in the Laundromat

~ Candace ~ Leave a comment

A Reply From Narcissus in the Laundromat

When I stumbled into the laundromat I saw
you fluffing and folding and was instantly smitten.
People think I’m vain, egotistical even, but

every time I looked in a mirror or caught my reflection
in a window I was looking for you. I was daring to hope
that someone like you might be following me. Suddenly,

there you were, so I went from machine to machine trying
to glimpse your face because I was afraid to look into your eyes
in case there was no love reflected back.

* from Day 5 at NaPoWriMo

MacIntosh

~ Candace ~ 1 Comment

MacIntosh

It’s an old tree, standing in my yard –
not ancient like the Sequoias, or
statuesque like the Redwoods, just

a squat little apple tree being the best
tree it can. I can imagine it wiggling its
roots in the rich soil, like the child playing

In the sandbox under its shady umbrella,
Deer come to graze on the bounty of
late summer and Robins build delicate,

twiggy nests in its branches, and I’m sure
I can hear it humming lullabies in the night.

Book Sounds

~ Candace ~ 1 Comment

Book Sounds

Listen to

…. the slight whisper of a page being turned
late at night after everyone is asleep

…. the sharp rustle of paper as a page is
rapidly turned in anticipation

…. the final satisfying whoosh of the last page
turned, a book closed

About What Counts

~ Candace ~ 1 Comment

About What Counts

He sits at the kitchen window counting
birds at the feeder. He used to know the name

of each one, their breeding habits, their migration
patterns. A large shadow passes overhead, scattering

the little birds like the memories that elude him. People
and places he no longer recalls, strangers in photographs.

Only the feelings remain.
Surely they must count for something.

Of Courage and Joy

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Of Courage and Joy

No one tells you how courageous you must be to grow old
The oldest are often the bravest
No one tells you how many times a heart can be broken or

How many times it can heal
No one tells you your body will fight against you and
Vigilance will become your watch word

No one tells you about how much love a human heart can hold
And still have room for more
No one tells you that joy comes in the form of chickadees

And children’s laughter
Yet, when they tell you that the best is yet to come
You do not believe

A Question of Abundance

~ Candace ~ 1 Comment

A Question of Abundance

The crocus and daffodils are blooming
and there is an abundance of small white
flowers in the herb garden – unwanted weeds

that I will have to pull, if it ever stops raining
On my front porch I found a small yellow
butterfly, a sign that the weather is finally

turning warmer and a reminder that my
abundant weeds are its abundant food source
Weeding can wait

A Song in the Storm

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A Song in the Storm

A small, clear voice sang out
amid the storm of men at war –
a movie song, a moving song.
A call to peaceful action, a voice
to calm the fears of children everywhere.
A song that children sing from homes,
and schools – from street corners and bunkers.
A voice heard by nations and people
unlike her own, yet understood by all.
A child with the wisdom that children possess,
a wisdom that is lost in the foolishness of growing up

Of Poem and Nonsense

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Of Poem and Nonsense

This poem is tied up in (k)nots trying to
make sense of the letters swirling around


it – Syllables that won’t keep time, tripping
over metered clown feet – Phrases


of the moon lined up and made to
stan(d)za in groups of four or maybe two


What’s a poem to do when there is no
rhyme or season to its form? When it finds


itself trickling away into an inky stain on paper ?