The Writer's Garden

Liquid Platinum and Lightning Lake

2026-10-17T23:54:51.479-04:00

gold dune sand blowout

inscribed with staircase

resting on log bench

pausing frantic chase

wind biting down but

in a friendly way

like my two lap cats

nipping just to play

autumn forest shades

juicy apple red

lemon tangerine

in plum wine is wed

pebble jeweled sands

winking at themselves

precious treasure trove

for gem mining elves

upon monkey bars

climbs the lake-eyed boy

up and down he goes

in self-contained joy

comes the hurried wave

lunging at the beach

the running away

always out of reach

ever moody lake

with too much to do

were it me, I'd be

tempestuous too

sun upon the seas

casts her fractal rays

liquid platinum

lightning color days

lake contained within

every little stone

with a piece of beach

you're never alone

Swing like you're five and it's your birthday!

2026-10-17T22:49:17.298-04:00

little girl in pink posy dress

small shoes on the wrong feet

in crooked birthday girl badge

she is so unutterably sweet

I bought the dress for the child

with eyes the color of Lake Michigan

wears it now to make me smile

and I have fallen in love again

"Omi come play!" she shouts to me

less an invite more a command

which I shall never disobey

holding chipped nail polish hand

the pink cupcake frosting grin

lasts as long scattered crumbs

as elder Omi knows that when

a thing called "big" she becomes

but for now, let's just enjoy

much delight in sticky face

for grownup comes all too soon

let's inhabit this time and place

we drag out feet in primordial sand

we swing together companionably

while brother and cousins clamber about

my primrose haired maiden and me

She asks about her great Omi and Opi

who walked with me on the same beach

I try to show them as I saw back then

when I had them safe within my reach

My liminal spaces danced through time

Colossus straddling them and me

connect the dot posterity

empty and overflowing memory

each moment fluid and frozen

unholdable as the child's shadow

wind guttering birthday candles

gone before I even saw it go

I dwell too much in endings

I want to snatch and clutch

and hold back the passages

of youth and time and waves and such

it's trite yet true nonetheless

nothing lasts forever, the old folks say

people grow up and go away

but that's too much adult today

Carpe diem, enjoy while you can

live in middles, seize the day

but even while I'm swinging high

I feel it inexorably slipping away

like post-partum with CPTSD

trauma screams in nightmares nightly

I can't ever let it go for

it holds me ever so tightly

How can I just make my peace

with all that I'll never understand

that in the midst of this life

falls the relentless hourglass sand

I think this poem is about

when to cling and when to free

how and when and what to hold

learning how to let it be

I can hold space for mine

though I can't hold back time

for the children on the swing

and the rambling kids who climb

May you always swing like you're five, my golden girl. Love from Omi now the Omis back then.

Choking on exhaust from funeral hearse

2026-10-16T21:53:56.438-04:00

iron burn irony

could always be worse

choking on exhaust

from funeral hearse

sad predicament

should I say or go

choice was luxury

I was not to know

leave but never go

speaking with no say

adulting as a kid

giving them their way

So I find myself

word searching today

no way to express

no clue what to say

I can only write

by trauma gaslight

spelling out in scars

have you got a light?

souls remember

every nasty word

that the ear was told

it had never heard

alive yet deadened

to all but the pain

baffled litany

from the circus train

rise above and beyond

Forgive and forget

be the bigger person

just get over it

but I ain't a god

ain't even much good

I can not unhear

as they said I should

I can't get over

I can't see the top

nor just let it go

too heavy to drop

If I go around

I'll simply revolve

ending on start space

and what will that solve?

can't tunnel under

it's buried in sand

when i tried to dig

I busted up my hand

what's too deep for depth

neither short nor tall

full and yet empty

too big to be small?

could fall over it

and you can fall in

you might drown in it

though nothing's within

translate this riddle

If you'd know my plight

untying one knot just

knots others too tight

I am back to front

inside wrong-side out

twist pretzel puzzled

with too much self-doubt

So I keep versing

what I can't explain

anything to help me

break this ball and chain

Riddle answer: A hole. And also childhood trauma. Both of which are where I find myself much of the time.

From me to her and back again

2026-10-15T16:46:59.859-04:00

Writing love letters

to her who was when

little girl replies

to now me, again

Dear child, I'm sending

x's and o's back then

addressed to your fort

in dune hemlock glen

I receive a note

from long ago miss

kid scrawl envelope

sealed with a kiss

wintergreen ink on

berry stained fingers

mint scented memory

in cortex lingers

I wish I could go

back in reality

to beach combing me

by Michigan's sea

what's real anyway?

and what's memory?

is it something to sip

like Insani-Tea?

bespoke misery?

I'll pass on that drink

already drunk on

gin and printer's ink

Let's dwell for a time

in warm mica sand

my far away child

will you hold my hand?

we'll jot our love notes

along the lakeshore

in backward glance through

the wide open door

Dredging dirges rung by the reckoning bell

2026-10-15T15:45:21.365-04:00

quilling in reverse

of deep septic pain

handdrawn scars tattooed

with indelible stain

there's an ache droning

like a killer bee

igno-ranting insults

drilling deep in me

be careful passing

judgement on my verse

if you think that's bad

my real life was worse

no lowest low in

my trauma bleed brain

spelling out spook house

just might find me sane

so I'll keep taking

bucket to the well

dredging dirges rung

by reckoning bell

putrid and ugly

no sheltering womb

tailor made fright night

colder than a tomb

so buckle up if

you're riding along

no happy lyrics

to requiem song

loud and discordant

keened harshly off key

got to keep screaming

to find harmony

thank you for holding

space and time with me

carrying the banner

in solidarity

With love from young me to now me.

Going where only Amygdala knows

2026-10-13T15:29:40.746-04:00

the girl then recalled

parents looming large

quietly sinister

corrosively in charge

clown parade balloons

high on pride's LSD

punch drunk delusions

of Grandiosi-Tea

sarcasm IV drips

from mean emojis

garish caricatures

impossible to please

love was a blanket

held out then yanked away

knit to bind not warm

cat with mouse did play

never any words

explain way back when

no exit out of

her misery then

and then is still now

a spiraling she goes

blinded by betrayal

only Amygdala knows

I'd love to pen a

hopeful word or two

yet pie crust promises

simply will not do

airy and airless

broken by a breeze

pointless platitude

said with careless ease

bandaged over bleed

just to stem the flow

of mother nature tears

wound dressed just for show

feather pen laments

reticulating pain

drawing scars as flowers

in healing refrain

no other way out

must pick up my pen

no more to do but

verse and verse again

Call off my black dog

2026-10-12T23:39:34.293-04:00

wind chiming vespers

angelic melody

composed by the breeze

four part harmony

innocent or evil

it sounds of coffin bells

terrifying tinkling

buried alive foretells

for my soul wonders

by much darkness known

is devil percussion

calling to its own?

when I found the switch

on technicolor TV

I saw what I missed

in black and white naivete

It made me question

all I ever thought

all their fabricated

nonsense that I bought

trust wears a double edge

with deadly overbite

if given too freely

to them with no right

mercy and respect

likewise cut two ways

didn't understand that

in my gaslit haze

I've been driven mad

angry and insane

by demon tinnitus

hammering my brain

in my mind's mire

dwells snarling hell hound

baying for my blood

invisibly all around

call off my black dog

I cried in choking yelp

to Boadicea

from whence cometh help

the raison d'etre

why I clack this rhyme

hope avenging angel

makes it here on time

thus explains wind chimes

ringing Morse CQD

alerting goddess to

child drifting out to sea

sewer water muck

murky memory

flotsam and jetsam

rank polluted sea

not my mother lake

named Michigan

nor Elysian fields

I go to again

the lake is my friend

yet I've dates to keep

miles to go before

I lay me down to sleep

and regardless if

the lake's friend or foe

I've much to do 'ere

to dark night I go

I think perhaps that might be salvation in itself. Reading the celestial GPS and seeing my destiny or calling written in the stars.

Amen.

Saffron in the Town of Brown

2026-10-10T20:16:20.000-04:00

In a youthful oasis

we once played a game

gave each other a color

friends with forgotten name

Singapore Sunset Saffron

was a shade assigned to me

once upon a way back

in sweet land of poverty

tempest washed up and

foundered flotsam me

just miles yet worlds from

my dear driftwood sea

nothing much to do but

loiter by the liquor store

nowhere nothing wasteland

too far from the lakeshore

ghosted empty windows

where hope died on trees

framed in asphalt cracks

live amnesiac memories

I see it always fall

all dead leaf hues of brown

no spring green nor autumn red

the graveyard called our town

not a city nor village

just the isolated farm

too close for comfort

too apart to keep warm

no employers employ

never any claim to fame

built to be abandoned

with already extinct name

I tried to share my saffron

pink and purple twilight

Singapore sunset-ness

Outshone by rural blight

don't get me wrong, I

got bleaker shades too

peach bellini cocktails

with chaser black and blue

the brown was not in them

who in decaying dwelt

just their misfortune

got a shitty hand dealt

I strove to assimilate

with denizens of the daze

but I'm ever outlander

unfamiliar with their ways

bouncing in and out again

ping-ponged post to pillory

the transient can kicked

down homeless soliloquy

so inevitably

my rolled stone rolled on

leaving no moss behind

to mar the brown landscape

with golden evergreen mind

Trauma Bond Seance

2026-10-08T14:16:03.304-04:00

trauma bond seance

summoning the dead

nightly roll call ritual

with all its black dread

you thought this dirge was

just for Halloween

but it's real recall

of horror I've seen

I grant you it fits

the funereal theme

my zombie led life

quite the spooky meme

I don't choose to go

down their road to hell

it's me been summoned

by their mourning bell

deatheaters' drink

doom beyond the pale

while we toast the joy

mine's a pint of ale

can I please go back

to moonlit fairy tea

with Raggedy Ann

Andy boy and me?

back to the garden

and the printers ink

I'm sick of drowning

spiraling down the sink

back to the post light

Narnian reverie

snowy dune woodland

steam train odyssey

let's get this over

let's walk by the lake

sitting shiva nights

no seance but a wake

Beer Tent Revival

2026-10-05T19:54:15.026-04:00

sweet saintly church hymns

hurting in my head

whisky sour melody

on hypocrisy fed

paradox puzzle

swimmer's ear pain

oxymoron blonde

logically insane

little shrimp spiral

down his paisley tie

Fibonacci fugue

I did prophesy

when dicing with death

watch for sneak attack

what you shit on me

bites your anus, Jack

never thought I'd say

did you, daddy dear

what had to be said

you needed to hear

Such a good punter

buying lies they sold

Till I was bankrupt

now my soul's grown cold

Sick of pew filling

preacher talks the talk

gospel double speak

while I walk the walk

you the Messiah

who can't even crawl

beer tent revival

hucksters lead them all

cheap sham theatrics

the quack charlatan

no revelation, just

a Bible salesman

peddling religion

from wagon you do

promising healing in

snake oil and voodoo

spare me your twisted

punch drunk politics

blind evangelism

half-baked lunatics

get out of my dessert

you don't belong here

this is for mothers

and fathers held dear

If that's blasphemy

then I'll take that chance

do-si-do along

time for me to dance

now I'm spitting out

doom you drank on me

pass the Listerine

to flush Insani-Tea

life's a conch shell

and color in the lines

Bubble Gum Pink Soap

2026-09-30T01:20:56.772-04:00

the bubble gum soap

to scrub printer's ink

in the press washroom

with the granite sink

soap of neon pink

cleanses grime away

who will whiten my

black and blues today?

soul's donkey gray

darker shade of pain

written big and bold

in indelible stain

This Eeyore-ing rain

scoring grooves in faces

weeping down like salt

tales told in the traces

whittling deep and wide

subterranean lows

can't go much deeper

it's low as it goes

elevator mic drop

plummets through the floor

steam locomotive

gate crashes the door

amid the debris

the push pushes past

chokey smoke roiling

chaos halts at last

Notice I said halt

not stop, end nor ceased

slow-motion station

lulls the ceaseless beast

I wish for pink stuff

to wash him away

but this juggernaut

is with me to stay.

But that pink soap didn't work very well either, so I turn to my poems from whence comes some peace.

Lisping in way-back rhyme

2026-09-30T00:20:27.650-04:00

Dune of many steps

runs down to the lake

out to horizon

underneath the wake

chromatic scale hues

twinkle in the sand

fairy microcosm

I held in my hand

to find my true north

I look to my lake

spirituality

awoken, wide awake

Mandela spinning

slideshow carousel

at Formica table

known and loved so well

Here's an old photo

but it's new to me

a fat gawky kid

at home by the sea

silly weird haircut

where long tresses fell

sacrificed to a

god jealous as hell

look at the picture

pretend it's not me

examine closer

now what do I see

just a little girl

unposed candid peek

not photogenic

nor a circus freak

hard to unsee self

without eye of mind

past mental images

so cruel and unkind

I saw different

I saw inside out

Still can't envision

what I was about

wonder what she saw

squint-eyed in the sun

blinded by the night

that made the tears run

In elemental swim

building forts in sand

chatters to herself

in this long-ago land

two missing front teeth

jack-o-lantern smile

chubby cheek chipmunk,

lisp with me awhile?

natter with grandkids

but her I can't reach

funny little sand crab

playing on my beach

I could leave a note

scrawled along the lake

I should warn my girl

of pain and heartbreak

I'll leave her happy

stick writing in sand

grains of tomorrow

falling through her hand

my hand.

This is TOWR Radio with an update on the hostage situation

2026-09-28T21:19:36.789-04:00

(beep,beep,beep, this is Capt. Charon of the Camelot river rescue, coming to you from TOWR radio with live updates in the hostage situation. We are receiving the lady's messages but some interference in the signal seems to be causing her not to receive ours. We will keep you posted on the status of her release. Meanwhile this is the transcript of messages so far...)

caught in a FOG trap

fear, obligation, guilt

endlessly weaving

nightmare patchwork quilt

scared by dream scars

so much I must do

with grains running out

I haven't any clue

make bricks without straw

gold from straw to spin

progress sabotaged

must begin again

dogged by their chaos

demands left and right

tasks without an end

sleepless Shalott night

got my foot stuck fast

in quicksanded blight

sucking me under

no more will to fight

carry it alone

no one seems to see

pulled down by my

old man and the sea

tried new SOS

and the old CQD

no life raft sent to

come and rescue me

guess it's just me with

my own life to save

rescue swim out of

choking riptide wave

but t'was ever thus

in and out of years

cries for help falling

on mute and deaf ears

so you quit crying

give up and give in

why even bother

they will always win

so damned used to

making do and mend

used up and worn out

to the bloody end

do not dare to stop

when they have died out

voices in my head

always rave and shout

beasts long devoured

by conquering worm

still ever hungry

devour me in turn

dementors deposed

yet my "loving" kin

still bang on my brain

till I let them in.

new voices say I

could turn them away

nothing stopping me

no longer kept at bay

and yet...

cage bars rusted through

still bind and hold me

self-restrained prison

locked by memory

couldn't see tower's

ephemerality

from inside out it

looks like walls to me

turns out it's just me

can unbolt the door

let friend ferryman

help me to the shore

always the gentleman

allows me the lead

loving kindness goes

beyond word to deed

softly, milady

will you take my arm?

ever holding held

keeping safe from harm

Hallelujah!

(Thanks for tuning in to TOWR Radio! Safe journeys on the STYX airwaves. )

First Responder to the Dead

2026-09-24T23:56:26.903-04:00

Charon is my rock

though I can't say why

Hero ferryman

lifeboat in tie-dye

that's how I see him

helmet on his head

a first responder

to those who are dead

living have saviors

patron saints galore

but the drown-girl needs

a friend at the shore

lifeboat's not the word

for this charnel ark

passengers deceased

he ain't afraid of the dark

ain't afraid of nothing

prince nor principality

just keeps on vaping

lime serenity

his job's not rescue

it's too late for that

he's the soul finder

in a searchlight hat

seen him depicted as

skeleton crew of one

poling his barge to

Elysian night sun

I like him in rags

coat of many hues

mama made for him?

with holes in both shoes

so many ferried

safely cross the flow

looking forward to

wherever it is I go

many black and white

know to heaven they ride

color me humbly grey

moonlit starry-eyed

they say garments washed

come out white as snow

in the blood of lamb

when upward we go

could it be we all

view what we wanna see

visions of ourselves

as we'd like to be?

maybe I'm mystic

in glass darkly see

what I know for sure

mine's a mystery

I find strange comfort

in insecurity

it's cock-assurance that

destabilizes me.

does it really matter

how I start or end

just so I land in

the boat of my friend

I find peace in rags

of Captain Charon

unfamiliar safety

the girl and her boatman

cuz death's just a stop

on a long steam train

glory-bound platform

in Michigan dune rain

and this is one stop

(the lady of Shalott is still signaling BTW. So keep tuning in to TOWR radio for updates. He rescued me, so there's hope for her.)

That's what I get for going where my heart led

2026-09-24T22:24:07.873-04:00

a song my grandad loved

the fixer not the printer man

"let the lower lights be burning"

spins round my mind again

God's got the Fresnel lens

we tend lights on shore

so sinking sailors

will struggle no more

grandson Milo resonates

true son of his Opi

lighthouse loving boy

gets my opaque story

minding the small lights

to save the seamen

but what about women

struggle sinking again?

who saves the mermaids

accused of causing sin

called man-eaters yet

it's us dying within

I'm the one sinking

yet they're quick to blame

with wagging fingers

writing out my shame

hooked and the hook

bewitched witches

monstrous regiment

embattled bitches

same old situation

we're ball-cock and chain

it's me draining yet you

don't hear me complain

wait on curse's fall

evil this way comes

blindly twiddling

ever pricking thumbs

and so the sand drains

counting down the hour

sightless sending SOS

from Shalott tower

For love of a man

out upon a ride

brought about doom

split glass side to side

was he gentlemen

or fork-tongue thief

was he really worth

the madness and grief?

I don't know yet

access still denied

to Charon's taxi

across river wide

"help" text sent long past

but 911 went dead

that's what I get for

going where my heart led

no wonder she took the hard way out

(The poem's over but the story's not done yet, so stay tuned to this dial at TOWR radio, folks.)

Crying in dots and dashes

2026-09-23T20:18:09.585-04:00

inarticulate today

I write not by choice

skipping record stuck

searching for its voice

is it me heard or

just me giving way

to them in my ear

demanding their say?

If I talked back

whatever to say

to shame in my head

to make them go away

have I ever had

words that were mine?

did I just rehearse

their fed party line?

It's not them, I know

their babbling refrain

this backward spun song

is incoherent but sane

half-heard half forgot

like foggy dew tune

buried in shadow

of lightning rune

is that what calls from

priest hole in my brain

muted phantasm

groaning out her pain?

my inner lady

in keep of Shalott

stranded at station

in town of Camelot

will they finally hear

keening caught mine deep

like stranglehold choke

when you're sound asleep

guttural and gutted

what a godawful sound

blue tick hound howl of

milady gagged and bound

babies speak in tears

no words but a cry

I can't even weep

it's useless to try

I open my mouth

only croaks come out

fish out of water

dying flops about

so I think my call

sent by telepathy

tapping out Morse code

in towered CQD

no trust in rescue

from message bottled tight

I'll shine my SOS

from Shalott tonight

in dots and dashes

across dragon moat

willing Charon to

fetch zipline and boat

tune in to TOWR radio to hear whether he arrived in time

or if she took the hard way home.

Mercurochrome Burn

2026-09-22T19:00:00.740-04:00

Mercurochrome burn

frying out my brain

heart and soul scorched

bleeding down the drain

agony never felt

when it was just me

harm to my beloved

searing misery

blinded by the blight

can't see a damn thing

only hear clang of

funeral bells ring

Wanna bust out but

writhing just twists more

there is no exit

just a tomb sealed door

So I'll sit tight while

you think you run loose

give you enough rope

you'll make your noose

I know you, demon

Saw you creeping there

cowardly bully

come out if you dare

lying traitor thief

biting at my mind

one day you'll be

bit in your behind

think you're so cute

but we're on to you

you show your evil

in everything you do

you loaded a bullet

you took careful aim

what you don't know is

that it bore your name

Your time is coming

you'll sign your own end

better watch your gun

has one for you, friend.

not by my hand comes

not for me to do

no need to plot revenge

you drank doom on you

Done but not over.

And remember, "If you dig a grave for someone, dig yours too."

Riffing for England

2026-09-21T14:29:46.398-04:00

Part Two of Tea with Lime and Treacle (breaking the fourth wall, the author enters the verse)

Prue wide-eyed asleep

Clive sleeping off his mouse

child left to scuff shoes

in woodland playhouse

bored of her play

she smiling turned to me

offered remnants of

their funny little tea

mulberry decoction

with notes of sweet lime

in cracked china cups

surprisingly sublime

with the meal over

without Clive and Prue

my shy little girl

didn't know what to do

Shall we have a game?

hopefully, said she

what shall we play in

my mind's reverie

battledore and shuttlecock

can we play all night?

(In American, bitte?)

Oh, badminton, yes

I suppose that's alright.

(we now continue this poem as a play between two voices, Author and Child)

C: Why is it bad mitten?

A: I don't know. Wait, no it's bad-MINTON)

C: Was Mittens bad? Why?

A: No. I don't know.

C: Or was she wearing mittens while bad?

A: Minton.

C: Is that different?

A: Yes. In the US. Here, God only knows.

C: Wouldn't that be hard?

A: Would what be hard?

C: To play battledore in mittens.

A: I would imagine so. Wait, mittens don't come into it. When is Prue going to wake up? I need a drink.)

C: My daddy says that a lot when we play.

A: I believe it. What does you mummy say?

C: Where's my mother's-little-helper. What do you spose that means? She has Millie the upstairs parlor maid, Mrs. Cooke the housekeeper and Mrs. Holmes the Cook. And Mr. Door the Butler. And her lady's maid Needles.

A: HAHAHAHAHA are those their real names? What's the footman called? Please tell me it's Foote. And the Groom is Groome?

C: No, Boot. And Driver. Say, are we going to play or just talk about servants? And you still haven't said who is mummy's helper. Or what your name is. Or why you're writing about me.

(*still wiping eyes. So she caught on to that, did she?)

A: No I'm sorry. My name is Marilisa. And to whom do I have the honor of addressing myself?

C: (rolling her tongue around the strange sounding name) M-ayyree-leesuh. Shouldn't you be Lady or Dame or Mrs. some-one-or-other?

A: I Should be a dame, for sure. But what I am is a Mrs. Mrs. Sachteleben. But I guess I'm just used to introducing myself by my first name. Especially with children. It's easier.)

C: What's a first name?

A: Sorry, Christian name, or given, I think you call it. But we still haven't been properly introduced. How shall I call you?

C: (drawing herself up to her full 36 inches) I am Lady Marie (Mahree) Elise Catherine Frances Eugenie Charlotte Georgina Mont-joy.

A: Well hello to all of you, my ladies! *many giggles* and what does milady prefer to be called?

C: Poppy!

A: Perfect. Why may I ask?

C: I just like it.

A: Fair enough. I tried to get people to call me Ginger like Gilligan's Island, when they couldn't pronounce my name. It didn't stick for a lot of reasons. But Poppy it is. Pleased to meet you!

C: What's Gillie-gun Island? Is that like a Scottish gamekeeper? And what did you say your surname is, like Zachtuhlayben?

A: My god girl, spot on pronunciation! My own extended family gets it wrong. I see a career as professional interpreter for you! As for Gilligan we got a lot a splaining to do! You do have TV, right?

C: Tea Vea? Like tea I had with Prue?

(I had forgotten she didn't know that I knew about her and Prue. Because I had written them into existence. And I didn't even know when I had set them. Judging by the mother's little helper references, it was sometime around when the Stones were a thing. But that's presupposing because that song was based on an older cultural drug phenomenon. And I'd not really looked at her dress, as in costume.

So I did now and kiss-me-quick-and-go-my-hunny it was like 19-naughties or teens at a guess. Maybe older. How did I miss that? Do a mental rewind-reset and fast.

A: Yes, Poppy, Tea Vea is bevvie you can drink. It's also form of transportation, kind of like a dirigible or a aeroplane. Or even a locomotive which takes a train back to the station it came from.

C: *beginning to look at my attire* You don't come from now time do you? You come from a time that has been or has yet to come.

A: It would seem so --and Sharp girl! I knew there was a reason I should like you.

(thought bubble here, should I say where I'm from or ask her where she's from? Would that warp the time-shift continuum thingy?)

C: So you do know me? How? (ow, ow, echo, echo, echo)

(what is with the weird reverb going on here?)

A: I don't know if do. But I'm glad I do! Now how about some Battledore and Shuttlecock, Poppy? And yes, we can play all night.

C: Yippee!

(to be continued)

Tea with lime and treacle

2026-09-19T11:24:57.059-04:00

Once upon a ticky-tack

a pocket full of gin

here we come wassailing

won't you let us in?

fickle crickle swamp song

where moose and kittens play

twirling round jewelry box

the ballerina at bay

no time for counting

nor making words come out right

let verses go sailing

in Honah-Lee tonight

no more sense making

I'm sick of clarity

pomp and pomposity

Want some mulberry tea?

You shall be mother

I poured out last time

Let us raise pinkies

skip lemon and try lime

oh yes please, and treacle

said my dolly Prue

I love how you think

my good friend and true

(Prue can never get enough treacle. Or rhubarb sauce on scones.)

went rummaging we two

in nursery larder found

half-eaten Hob-Nobs

when Nanny wasn't around

along with the mud pies

we'd put in to bake

a vase of stolen flowers

too bad there was no cake

Clive the cat brought a

dish to pass of mouse deceased

not to hurt his feelings

we added it to the feast

(on an old plate which

we neither of us touched.

And which was for the best as

Clive was feeling a bit growly-possessive

so we left him to it)

Anthrax be damned.

sick the author feels

at this unorthodox tea

don't mention jellied eels

Tea with lime and treacle

the grown-ups scoffed at us

what a daft thing to play

just preposterous

Probably best not to

bring up Clive's repast

bring it up is what

they'll do and do it fast

they were right of course

a mad hatter recipe

was quite horrendous

Our Monstrosi-Tea

but we et (sans mouse)

Just to prove them wrong

when did grownups cease

to hear their child song?

Now Prue feels poorly

so she was laid to rest (sleep!)

in pine needle counterpane

prayed her soul to keep

now I'm all alone

don't know what to do

I should jolly well

like to play with you.

(to be continued)

Cetirizine daydreams

2026-09-19T10:48:22.038-04:00

Cetirizine daydream

Here we go again

Round the tilt-a-whirl

Of KAOS back when

Blue Benzedrine

Pink amphetamine

Amped up nightmares

fun ones end in -ine

Day-glo insanity

something I can drink?

Vengeance best served cold?

When pushed to the brink?

Wrinkled like a shirt

Set on tumble dry

Rainbow blurred by

A speck in my eye

Uniformi-tea

Force-fed nasal drip

Don't step out of line

Swallow or gag on it

What's the use of choice?

If there's only one to choose

Only thing to ask

Is which lance to use

This is a bleak one

got no resolving chord

no happy ending

wish I could afford

We've ground to a halt

a rest with no end

a change as good as

no turn but a bend

Some go down to ships

some ride the storm out

I verse my angst in

pillow muffled shout

--thanks for reading. Do drop in, anytime you need my grayer shade of pale

Leave the moonlight on for me

2026-09-10T00:05:02.242-04:00

well look who's back

Omi and Opi

flew in from dreamland

settled in our tree

nested by the bird seed

grampa always hid

he knew the good spots

so of course they did!

downy woodpeckers

you may call these things

they're my elder sparks

grand spirits with wings

Once upon a memory

I'd dream of we three

walking by our big lake

my granddad and me

to their eternal rest

they were finally sent

but came back to visit

from wherever they went

All tears dried we hear

but if heaven's so swell

then tell me why them

leaving hurts like hell?

Maybe they knew I

couldn't cope alone

didn't want to leave me

again on my own

so they came each night

then they had to leave

these nocturnal visits

always made me grieve

it must be hard when

earthlings hold you tight

but I was stuck too

in a death grip plight

then one night they said

I must let them go

perhaps it hurt them

to see me hurt so

so I did so they did

cease to visit me

must have been ready

for I didn't even see

they live in recall

verses woven in foam

yet it seems they found

a new place to call home

I hang a feeder

in the backyard tree

like they always did

where birds love to be

when the seed runs out

they scold and nag me

they keep on dining

when I walk to the tree

we startle each other

it's quite an affray

we laugh and beg pardon

he never flies away

perched supervising

feeder filling time

I fully comprehend

his mute pantomime

and in the evening

when birds go to bed

I still see friendly

shade shadows in my head

elder sparks hover

in twilight requiem

I daren't blink or move

lest I might miss them

these feathered fairies

whatever they may be

neither fact nor fiction

still drop in on me

now we've gone gentler

in dark night of soul

in fairy fragments

I find full-moon whole

a back dune meander

Elysian daydreams

driftwood and fireflies

Tlingit moonbeams

now play hide and seek

for grandpa is silly

when the moon is new

no light we can see

like he always did

bidding me goodnight

began to shut the door

thereby dousing the light

it was just pretend

just so I would howl

always left it open

my dear wise old owl

sacred was the ritual

bed bugs and sleep tight

moonshine wish kisses

hugs with all our might

my elders sparks still

twinkle for us to see

never shut the door and

leave the moonlight on for me

Panic Attack Ack-Ack

2026-09-09T22:11:44.883-04:00

deep vein thrombosis

throbs through my whole

shell shock reverberates

shockwaves in my soul

musty sweet sickness

I know this of old

Tupperware bowl of

moldy oatmeal stone cold

gut lurching forward in

backward high-speed train

elevator major lift

minor fall migraine

crash land on reentry

rank, dank memory

rag rug pulled away

rage storm drowning me

panic attack ack-ack

mind's machine gun nest

can't find my gas mask

for air raid warden test

this ain't no test nor

car backfire sound

my heart knows the drill

of sucker punch pound

world without an end

they are mad again

me in the crosshairs

cue the great amen

comes the fusilade

flak- ack-ack attack

scapegoat in the middle

no one has my back

angry fingers drum

a morse code of shame

in military tattoo

stenciled on my brain

blindside blindman's bluff

family ambush game

everyone playing

pass the buck and blame

in clown monkey band

chimp on calliope

harpy harpsicord

what a travesty

dying but never done

death by 1000 jeers

hurts in ageless pain

I've cried out of tears

that's my legacy

left in the will

pocketful of empty

such a sour pill

it's some consolation

can't miss what I had not

and I just don't care

which oddly says a lot

Yes we've no patience

for nonsense today

just stupid head games

I don't want to play

Then Ack-ack subsides

like lake into shore

all quiet on this front

I could open the door...

(we now present the volta)

what to my wondering

eyes should appear

a cloud of witnesses

who holding held me dear

waiting in the wings

for their entrance bell

the new ones to love

past ones loved so well

Ave, elder sparks

I see your dim-bright

shadow fairies hover

hidden in plain sight

Time to free my Tao

and scrub clean the pain

in Babylon river

and Lake Michigan rain

Narnian Reverie: Or Moishe Requires his Tea

2026-08-31T23:08:59.000-04:00

Mrs. Bombastic

A tisket, a tasket

trailing mist ribbons

from her Easter basket

midsummer moonshine

mittens lost and found

then lost again by

kittens fiddling around

glowworm orb observes

green cheese moon man land

sing hey diddle diddle

to feline fiddler band

silently frolicking

Bastet hearth deities

Bombay amber eyes

Mord and Moishe kitties

Lunar Musicians

their mute jazz band wails

reflect harvest moon in

patent black coat and tails

larking in grayscale

hinterland twilight

no time for sleep in

mystic magic night

to color in vision

the painter brings her brush

I brought my pen to

poem ebullient hush

in honeycomb'd verses

weaving fabled spells

of sand covered kingdoms

inside wishing wells

once upon a rhyming

celestial story time

Tlingit elder waltz in

wild mountain thyme

Puss tippling catnip

Me, my jug of wine

a loaf and he beside

were paradise mine

till rain sneaks in on

Mist-blue kitty toes

Ohio's bank ore'flow

where pussywillow grows

wither shall we find

sweet sheltering repose?

pretty words blurred by

Windy Wendigos

my ballet shoes soiled

they will surely scold

wine turned to water

Moishe's feet are cold

Just we two must fend

Mord wisely went to bed

dreaming of cat treats

dancing in his head

but soft what light shines

In yon window faithfully

his front yard post light

calling Moishe and me?

nope, just me revolving

round memory carousel

kitchen table slideshow

where heaven hurts like hell

in recall I forget

wine tumbled on the floor

crying, holding tighter

just makes me lose more

Fact.

the elders have moved

ever farther away

I only see and hear

in grandkids at play.

I don't even dream about them anymore.

yet our beloved birds

hover o're me now

tiny elder sparks

my presence they allow

This bears more pondering.

I'll write on this more.

I'll think on this more.

I'll drink on this more.

Meanwhile, cue Narnian Reverie. Because Moishe's toes are freezing and he requires his tea.

A sardine toast feast

Tumnus laid for we

riding out the storm

the faun, the cat and me

sip from fairy tea cups

of dogwood petal pink

with fern frond saucers

gin and printer's ink

(there it is...)

Just a god and his girl

our silly ancient ways

strolling down Eden

and in and out of days

with love to Skinny Ape who introduced me to the faun.

Rescue Swim Sonnet

2026-08-09T00:23:59.000-04:00

fallow lie the fields

of grim Athenry

yes, we have no milk

the cow has run dry

those perishing below

from her window sees

but does she even hear

their heart-twisting pleas?

Lady of Shalott

wrings out tears like rain

cries for herself not

children with no grain

what use is crying

with no song to say

the doom is upon her

she's clean sailed away

lonely is our lady

of towered misery

drowning in blossoms

in boat off the quay

Such a golden waste

bright sparkler divine

Makes me consider

the spark that is mine

methinks as I dwell

in my quirky rhyme

about brevity of

the tango with time

to the death dicers

who flirt with the grave

a word of caution

before the final wave

spare a thought for those

leaving leaves behind

when contemplating

a darker shade of mind

as for me, I'll wear

my 24-karat glow

done with silence now

time to tell and show

no more colors hid

under basket confine

time to blow the top off

this little light of mine

I quit dancing to

the puppet masters tune

flip the script face up

rewrite my own rune

I've a debt to let

my bright and dark shine

keening out me to

my young still in line.

cut loose choke holders

get my priorities straight

cut free loaders adrift

release their dead weight

this is both swan song

and coming-out ball

parting with death dance

as life to life calls

I'm harkening to

those truly in need

by cutting out takers

I give givers the lead

life ring thrown back

to drowning gone before

rescue swim sonnet

pulling toward shore

my pay it forward

filling shoes they outgrew

what good they gave

the only kindness I knew

in parched earth vale

better to light a spark

than waste golden dreams

by cursing the dark

Pax Vobiscum.

Lady of Shalott Blues in B-flat

2026-08-08T23:18:05.622-04:00

Grade eff off key day

make the beast go away

can't shake mood today

only eerie meters play

got the doom on me

bagpiping the tune

Lady of Shalott blues

in B-flat river gloom

blue moon of Camelot

Keep on shining gloam

from Ohio's mud banks

Charon ferries me home

blue veined hands grasp

Sun's spotted yellow chill

permafrosted core

holds the ice queen still

empty orb hollowed

dull daylights retract

bleakest black and blue

prism fragments refract

needle nosed lances

on tiny aimed shard

finds a clear target

hits tender heart hard

sun without no shine

burns like saccharine

jeering and jesting

of a fake friend's grin

forced rumination

gnaws in stranglehold

peas porridge stewed in

the pot nine days old

banjo nerves jangle

in arthritic knot

Discordant twangle

my C minor Camelot