#OctPoWriMo 6 – Brother, Sister

An unwon race of growing up,
An ever overflowing cup.
Each takes turns leading the other,
Little sister, older brother

Poking, prodding, starting a fight,
Then making faces, smiling bright.
Individuals with moods so fickle,
Put themselves into a pickle.

Protective instincts dwell in each.
One to learn and one to teach.
The roles reverse from time to time
With hidden reason and silly rhyme.

They don’t realize it now.
They don’t recognize how.
Brother, sister, teacher, friend,
They’ll stick together until the end.



OctPoWriMo Prompt Day 5


#OctPoWriMo 5 – Her Shoes, My Shoes


Her shoes:
These little skiffs are light, unladen.
She flitters and darts like a tern.
She dives into the waters of the normal
And streaks out again.
Her own way, her own thoughts.
Her feet sail on favorable winds.

My shoes:
These boats are waterlogged.
They’ve motored many miles,
Some waters choppier than others.
Sometimes I thought I would sink.
These shoes are battered and storm-worn
And struggle to rise above the pressure of the waves.


Notes: My daughter snapped this photo completely by happenstance while playing with my phone. I sometimes find a hundred new photos of randomness in the photo files, especially when the device protests that it is out of memory. I save many of them, and sometimes they summon inspiration.


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#OctPoWriMo 4 – Sunflowers

Kansas SunflowerBlazing glory, golden yellow
A proud and shiningly sappy fellow
His petals bring gold to grassy prairie
His nectar feeds the bee and fairy
In a bird’s beak his tough seeds crack
His green leaves wave, “I’ll see you back
Here tomorrow for another day.
I’ll see you when you pass this way.”

Sunflower Song:

“Sunflower, Sunflower
They say I’m the flower of the plains
Sunflower, Sunflower
My golden light will brighten your day”

~Sung by Bob Bowden
Prairie Glimpses

#OctPoWriMo 3 – Roadkill

Indistinguishable pile of hamburger on the highway,
Another sacrifice to the greater movement,
The greater lust for speed and achievement.
A hapless innocent ground under vulcanized tires

Thousands fall victim, unable to find a safe path to cross.
Unable to withstand the weight of industrialism,
Their bones collapse and shatter and the flesh tears.
Some suffer, theĀ  pain of the wheel marks lingering.

We see them. We ignore them. We pray we don’t become them.
They are the roadkill on the street, the rags and the bags of meat
That loiter without societal purpose, the ones left to rot
And stain the garish beacon that is progress.


#OctPoWriMo 2 – Bargains

Today we choose heavy over light.
Perhaps we’ll regret it a week from now

Or maybe never. We might not live that long.

Now, we crave and we compromise for what we want in the NOW,
This time, this moment.

We have no privilege to see the unexpected consequences
Set in motion by our selfish acts.

It’s a bargain.

#OctPoWriMo 1-Welcome Autumn

Daylight wanes at early hours
Drooping brown sours the flowers

Dormancy claims victims sleepy
Maples red and willows weepy

Flocks venture southward
Their numbers burgeon
Foes become friends
As survival bludgeons

The world winds down toward year’s end
Rays of light at steep angles bend

Fear not, quiet creatures moving
Come Winter’s end the life improving

Sunlight comes again above
Alighting with the mourning dove

Photo Credit: ENLove
Photo Credit: ENLove

Prepping for OctPoWriMo

OctPoWriMo badge 2

Another poetry writing month is just around the corner, and I’ve been prepping my brain for various verses. I’ve been busy taking photographs and sketching pictures (somehow amidst the trials and tribulations of moving) and trying to choose themes that might make the task of writing a poem each day a little easier. A little planning might go a long way.

Of course, as writers know, inspiration strikes when it damn well feels like it. We can’t always reach out and snatch the elusive muses from mid-air. Like butterflies, the muses drift about on unpredictable wings and winds, dodging attempts to capture them. The slightest disturbance in the atmosphere sends them skittering away. As I look around on my country drive to work, I have a dozen possible titles for poems, but not much yet to back them up.

My summer has been filled with many activities other than writing. Returning to my favorite pastime will be a refreshing change. We spent ample time at the pool on hot afternoons. We took weekend road trips to Colorado Springs and Wichita. We packed our belongings for the long process of moving short range. There was little time between for a decent sit and scribble.

During the packing process, I rediscovered a few old stories printed on paper – how that seems like nearly ancient technology now! I kept them filed away for future reference. The computer disks – the old 3 1/4 inch floppies our children wouldn’t recognize – are long gone, nor do we have a single machine capable of retrieving the data. When I have a chance this autumn, I’m going to rewrite these stories and plan a new volume of short stories for publication.

Among my packed journals and notes are also dozens of poems, some written for class assignments, some for my own entertainment, most of them decades old, even back to grade school. My new home office will be littered with yellowed pages. I am looking to these for inspiration for new poetry experiments. I saw the world through different eyes then, less adulterated by the realities of life, more captivated by the subtle intricacies of personal relationships than I tend to be now that I’ve reached the 40-year mark. Re-reading these will remind me of lost memories and long forgotten faces.

My new home offers more quiet and reflective places: a large back yard where birds, butterflies, and bees congregate around the rose bushes, rocks where small snakes and lizards sun themselves, peaceful shade over a swing, and a lot less traffic noise. There is a walking path and fishing pond nearby, as well, offering mindful getaways. A short car ride takes me to the lake, where I’ve already spotted a bald eagle soaring over the treetops and green and great blue herons stalking along the shorelines. All of these are conducive to snagging wisps of creativity.

Here’s to another October!

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