Sunday, October 4, 2020

White Water and Creative Banks

Paddling the middle of a raging river

its white water threatens to swamp my boat

as I strong-arm my way

through life’s journey


On either side

the banks of creativity

full of beautiful scenery

await the pen or pastel


Bushes of words on one side

grasses of paint strokes on the other

cajole me, encourage me,

beg me to stop



the choice is easy

as to which side

I’ll pull my boat



the pull from both sides

is demanding

Do I paint or write?


And sometimes

the river is so strong

with life’s issues

I can’t pull out of the current


Long arms of creativity

shadowy reflections across the water

reach with ghostlike fingers

to pull me from my boat


The call to create

is overpowering

If I don’t heed its plea

I will be devoured by the river


I’m torn to which side

to rest my boat on

but know, too, whichever choice

will be the right one.

Tuesday, August 4, 2020

Photo’s Inspiration

Sometimes the lines

across the page

take on a different

kind of pace


Lines that do not match

the guiding photograph

decide their own

unique course

breaking free

of what was planned


To chart its own course

I let my hand move

sometime doubting

but also trusting the process


In the end

the painting tells me

when it is done

and I am satisfied.

Free Fall Painting

I stare at the photo

but my hand

takes on

a mind of its own


It won’t listen to

what my eyes see,

refuses to connect

to my logical mind


What I think I see

doesn’t transmit

to the strokes

falling on the page


Something else

takes over my hand

forming their own shapes

similar, but not quite like the photo


I’m in free fall

as the painting seems to

dictate where to move

my hand


I can’t stop

and can’t tell

what is me

and what is the painting


Suddenly it lets me go

I back away

from the easel

 and look back


Its unique voice

echoes through me,

not in real words, pleading,

“Make me, create me”


But once my logical mind

kicks in

the moments are passed and

the self-questioning begins.

Thursday, July 23, 2020

Words on a Page

Words on a page –

a response
to my statements
Opinions –
insinuating I’m wrong
Disbelief –
that I could
have such a different
point of view from them

Heaven forbid
I see beyond the surface
Heaven forbid
I speak to what I see
and believe
is really happening

Like always,
the old feelings
of displeasing someone
fill me

I try not to be angry,
try not to let the hurtful words
bring me down
nor think poorly of those
whom I consider friends

I pull back
vow to myself
not to speak freely again

But wait!
I refuse to put up
with negative responses
I would not
speak thusly to them
I hold fast my words,
stand strong in my convictions
I don’t require agreement
only respect
I have the right
to my own beliefs!

Last I knew
the First Amendment
has not been revoked –
yet –
Is it becoming
freedom of speech
is only for certain people?

My choices are
not for argument,
not to name call,
not for debate.

And, if at some point,
I am proven wrong,
I will be the first
to admit it.

Sunday, May 10, 2020

Mother's Day Message to My Mum

Mother’s Day 2020
A Message to My Mum

Good Morning, Mum,
I love you
I miss you

What I wouldn’t give
to put my head
on your shoulder
for you
to put your head
on mine

What I wouldn’t give
to touch your face
hear your voice
see you smile

What I wouldn’t give
to hold your hand
stroke your hair
hug you

How nice it would be
to play one last game
tend the flowers together
take a ride
go shopping
visit scenic places we loved

I miss you, Mum
I love you
and remember how
you loved me.

‘Til we meet again,
my most wonderful Mum,
I will hold you forever
in my heart and memories.

Tuesday, October 29, 2019

Transforming the Dawn

Dancing in the predawn grays
eastern sky awakened
in a blaze of pinks and purples
after a night of rain

As if she herself
was calling the dawn
by her dancing;
everything melted away

There was only
this moment,
only these seconds
before dawn burst forth

Feet moved lightly
leaving glistening footprints
in dew covered grass

Fingertips stretched upwards
against the sky  
for a brief pause

Before the dance brought
feather-light hands
arcing slowly downward
momentum carrying her forward

Pinks and purples faded
as shades of orange hues
streaked unhindered
across the heavens

Moved by Divine grace
dark faded to light
and a brilliant orb
crested the horizon

She continued to dance
to a tune only she could hear
floating across the meadow
as if on the clouds themselves

A last twirl, movement ceased
in stillness, she waited
face raised to the dawning
silence engulfed her

A cresting of the horizon
and wave upon wave
of wondrous, glorious brilliance
filled her soul.

Thursday, October 17, 2019


In gradual slowness
pale grayness crept in
silencing the sun
its steady movement
sometimes silhouetted
by darker steel gray

Wind strengthened
acorns slammed
on the roof, deck, ground
making me jump
setting my heart
to pounding

Rain sat in the heaviness …
waiting … waiting …
waiting for the right moment,
for the right darkness
before releasing its weight
to pummel anything below.