Wednesday, September 26, 2012

Sunny Side Of the Street

She wants to help
Every day
Sending ray upon ray
Of her
A sunny disposition

And now a scientific

Take her positive energy
And make a road
Powers the car
(if it's electric)
The nation
And makes refuse

Can it be reality?
It's up to you and me
(watch the movie...)

This is so unbelievably cool!  They have a prototype, they have an FB page too.  Are there issues? Sure. But just the concept, the idea that this could be, is pretty doggone thrilling!!  I love the wonder of it.  Deep breath, feel the wonder?!  Yes, I knew you would :-)

So Thank you to Poetry Jam for the inspiration--write a poem that is for didactic (interesting teaching) purpose.  Also for open link night at

Sunday, September 23, 2012

Rain Drop Doo Wop

Walking has a rhythm, the gortex rain jacket crunching against my shorts, follows that beat, in a crunching-swish way, and the streams of water--falling, falling, falling from the clouds-sky, from the tree-branches-needles-leaves, hitting my head, my arms, my dog, my legs, the ground.
But what do I see? I see the streams of water—falling, falling, falling onto the surface of the ponds and splashing, bouncing back, makes me think of music, drums, a piano. Rhythm. The challenge, wrap up that memory, soak it, turn it, tweak it—put it into words that move, that make you feel the music, the beat, the staccato, the mambo, the splash-dance of waterplay across a still surface, a surface that yields, in explosive sprays. How to trap this wonder, let loose my muse and paint with words, just the right words, that put you into this moment, this raincoat, with me while the rain falls, falls, falls while the clouds thunder and laugh at my feeble attempts to capture magic with words.

I was recently asked about writing prose--always been intrigued, but never tried--so here it is my first attempt.  I think.  Brooke Horvath's poem “Definition” says a prose poem should be...”not too short and not too long, somewhere between a snort and a song.”  I think I snorted.
Written for the Poetry Pantry at Poets United  

Wednesday, September 19, 2012


 IBM Research scientists imaged the bond order and length of individual carbon-carbon bonds in C60
 C the bond
Look closely
Atomic force microscopy
We be C-
From the C
Connected, bonded
You and me
No matter
What our thoughts
May be
You C?

This discovery fill me with awe and glee.  I mean, it is the coolest thing ever!!  An actual photo of the bonds in a carbon atom--how amazing is that? We can take a photo of atomic bonds--mind blowing really.  All those years looking at and drawing carbon bonds, with hydrogen, etc. yawn--and now a real picture of it!!  Also, just reinforces my belief, we're all part of the same stuff, time for all us peoples to get along.  Happy bonding!!  Inspired by the prompt at, to look closely.

Tuesday, September 18, 2012


He knows
Can almost feel the release
Hear the soft thud
As the fob and key
Fall into his son's hand
“I fell asleep at the stoplight”
He confesses to the office staff
But not to me
He knows
They'll tell me
He always shifts into neutral
But that doesn't make it safe
He knows
Freedom is a key
That fits in the ignition
A simple turn
Of events
No one wants to think it
Or say it
He knows

Written for Open Link night at  Didn't intend to go to the dark side, but sometimes, life just takes you there, and the only key to escape is you gotta write a poem...

Thursday, September 13, 2012


Credit Artwork by Vicki Sheehan
Title:  Collage - Original Mixed Media Art - Golden Threads

Dark shiny table tops
Soft white lace
Home d├ęcor contrasted
Like the hard-working men
And soft-spoken women
Who sat on the chesterfield
Sipping Manhattans
Smoking Tareytons
While little girls
Pressed, scrubbed clean
Sat, lips sealed
Hands folded, and watched
The scene, memorized
Lipstick, gestures
The magic of smoke rings
Never knowing that they
Were learning an era
Not an eventuality

Written for Poets United at who invite you to write about a mystery and timeworn memories--with inspiration from the works of Vicki Sheehan-visual artist

The lace in this piece of art reminded me of the doilies my grandma (Norwegian) used to put on all her polished dark wood end tables and side tables.  The intricacies always fascinated me, just like her ability to blow perfect smoke rings.  I will never know why she called a "couch" a "chesterfield" because I never thought to ask, it just was...

Wednesday, September 12, 2012


It might have been the broad shoulders
Maybe the Roman nose
Or winning grin
And taller than me
Sat behind me in Spanish class
Was so dreamy
Felt a little chemistry
Then Mono hit me--two weeks
Tossed and turned in fever, sure
That I'd lost my chance
Instead, the day I returned
He asked me to the Homecoming Dance
In shock, I squeaked a “yes”
And he answered, “Really?”
As they say, the rest...
Was typical high school romance
Doomed before it's through
But for that single moment
It was a dream come true

Written for the prompt, “Moment that impacted you” for; Openlink night at and Poetic Bloomings prompt #72—first love
This was the first true love, took a few more frogs before I figured things out, but as they say, you never forget your “first” :-)

Thursday, September 6, 2012

Otta Be Autumn

No shades of leafy reds
                         Are seen
                              In the land of perpetual
No yellows, oranges
                         Or gold
                                Where people flee
                                           To escape
                                                      The Cold
No winey scent, or frosty chill
                          No leaves to rake
                                          Or cookies to
                  (it's too darn hot, for goodness sake)

Just hurricane season
                         And humidity
                                       Happy trees
                                              But wistful Me

Thanks to the inspiration from Think Tank Thursday #103 at Poets United
And unfortunately, true.  Used to live where we had a fabulous Autumn, and I love every little bit of it, from the brisk breeze, scent of rotting leaves, frosty edged hedges, colorful trees, even the skeletal remains after every leaf dropped--all beautiful and fond memories.  Sigh--cheers to everyone who is entering this magical time. :-)

Tuesday, September 4, 2012

Shades of Summer

Sunlight slipped
Oak trees
Weaving beam and branch
To paint gray
Picnic table planks
With shadow leaves
While the breeze
Tickled my neck
Only I could hear

Sharing with Openlink Night at; this poem was also recently published at the amazingly cool online poetry mag  A.J. Huffman, editor and phenomenal poet.  Check it out!  Submissions are open :-)