poetry is personal

The Small Things

A year ago when I first tried the Poem-a-Day challenge, my life overflowed with big things-love, heartbreak, chronic pain, undiagnosed illness.

Grandson Sage at Safeco Field

Pilgrim's Path

oregon coastI can no more turn around
than I can weave a rope of

Poetry Returns

I haven't felt like writing poetry in a long-time. I don't know if I got burned out writing a poem a day last April, or because my muse took off looking for her lost dog.

Who’s that Girl?

today in a black & white photography exhibit

Coffee Drinking Muse

Shirley's been hanging around a lot lately.

I wake up in the morning and she's in the kitchen

drinking her coffee black with one sugar.

Mid-afternoon she's out on the smoking porch

drinking coffee cut with bourbon.

I told her to use the rotgut, with coffee that strong and bitter

no one could tell the difference, but she

insists on the good stuff, won't touch anything but Bulleit.

In the evening, she's back watching the eleven o'clock news and

Jay Leno, feet up on the coffee table, with cup after

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