say no to clowns

ebullient decay…

Album of the Week – Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds – Skeleton Tree and a Response Poem – “When the Bough Breaks” — May 24, 2017

Album of the Week – Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds – Skeleton Tree and a Response Poem – “When the Bough Breaks”

I just can’t not share this. For obvious reasons.


This will be difficult to write. I deliberately choose to stay away from politics and the personal in my writing for reasons that are important to me. Today, I want dip my toe into both. Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds has accompanied me on my travels, and Nick took me back to a time of great sorrow when my fourth child and second daughter was lost mid-pregnancy to Fifth Disease and was stillborn. A story I recently told my son about my dad uncovered that grief never completes. My parents lost a son, I am the fifth, not the fourth in my family, as most think. Many years before I surprised the world, my parents buried a son. When Dad came down to Maryland to comfort me, he walked through the front door and over to me, looked into my eyes through his own tears and wrapped me in…

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Insecurities and other such fun things… — May 22, 2017

Insecurities and other such fun things…

So I was merrily going my way along WordPress today, and then I saw a quote, (egads I hear you say)…but it reminded me of something that had been on my mind, but wasn’t sure I should divulge, (and how many buts could I have in one sentence, but anyway…)

I live, mostly, in a general state of bewilderment, and it has been such a wonderful surprise to discover the amount of other people on WP in such a state. I feel like we should be stretching out a big picnic blanket and then oohing and aahing over all of the somewhat disgustingly interesting food we would bring out of our baskets. (Just a forewarning…my food will be a perfect candidate for those “Nailed It” comparison posts on social media I never get sick of.) Plus, you will have to be patient with me as I fight urges to hug everyone, which I do constantly when I read your gut wrenching, devastatingly glorious writing.
But I think I am digressing, I’m not sure.

So, darn, I can’t remember what this post was going to be about…
Hopefully this very motivating link will remind me:
Poetic Motivations at Davy D’s blog. (Thanks again Davy.)

Oh yes, whenever I read interesting things about different writers and they start listing their favourite writers and influences, my eyes glaze over. Don’t get me wrong, I love to read. It’s just that I have so much trouble focussing, that I honestly haven’t done it very much in recent years. (Plus, any reading I have done has been theological by some rather brilliant friends.) So, I have been rather embarrassed about my neglect, but this quote reminded me of why I have more recently decided that I won’t be. Plus, it was never my goal to sound or read like anyone else.

Ugh, where am I going with this?

(My husband just came up to me, kissed my cheek in a lovingly sympathetic way and said, “are you writing to Mr Aloysius Snuffleupagus?”
Could the timing be more perfect? Need I say more about the breadth and depth of my influences? I admit, it’s been a few years…)

But I think I have actually found a point…I am more than profoundly moved and inspired by the talent on WordPress. What a wonderfully therapeutic experience it has been. I am so grateful. Plus, you have reminded me of things that were buried, very deeply.

And to my remarkable parents, who are well educated and just plain intelligent.

And I am grateful to an old friend who planted the seed for me to start blogging in the first place. He doesn’t think I should give him any credit. But I am grateful to him more than I can ever say. In fact, through all of the years I have known him, he has busted out a few insightful things that have really helped me. He most likely doesn’t even remember. It doesn’t matter.

So I raise my glass of homemade rum and coke to these people I love and the million colours of WordPress.  I know I have said this before, but thank you, from the bottom of my heart. ❤

Songbirds —
— May 21, 2017


he didn’t look up


he was afraid

the tenacious unspoken

in a thousand fragments

would crash down on him.

he was amazed the trees

were not bowed from the weight

of that thing they couldn’t say

and he remembered that song…

he looked up at the changing of the colours to paradox –

now weightless


it would be the paper cuts

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it was her —

it was her

Every way she listened, there were endings.
This weight of pretense had to be shifted.
It was time to chord change them out of the cliché, and even though his music always made her dance, his shadows were not hers.

So she did what he didn’t expect. She brought the pig’s heart.
And they drank the wine…

A non ode to recalcitrant poem particles — May 19, 2017
inversely stack shaped (take two) — May 17, 2017
what are the words (for mothers’ day) — May 15, 2017
So… — May 10, 2017


here’s the thing…

I have some health issues that need tending to, and like a lot of people, it has been easy to neglect taking care of myself for a while now.
But I really have to.
So I am not going to be stalking all of you beloved WP talents as much as I normally would. And that’s A LOT. And I have done it unapologetically, because, quite frankly, you are amazing. And inspiring. And I cannot put into words how you have enhanced my life. So, thank you. From the deepest, and sometimes, weirdest, recesses of my heart 😛

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anamnesis — May 9, 2017
16 words — May 7, 2017
she left —
Assiduous Respiratory Therapy — May 6, 2017
“adam and eve” (take two) — May 5, 2017
lagged at jet speed (take two) —
O…Here Flies Her — May 3, 2017

O…Here Flies Her

Oh my goodness, how I love this…

Poet Girl Em

Very carefully

he stepped on the ladder in a display of unbridled uncertainty

in reach of the divine dangling overhead like a jeweled crown

twinkling truth in morse code (he never did learn)

remaining a mystery that he would never solve

like her

the earthbound fearless lover deathly afraid of heights

who can dream bigger than the sky

but never dares

to fly

…there is always some boulder in the path

he won’t climb

some barrier blocking access

he won’t destroy

despite his strength (that he never has used)

wilting chances eroded by time

fruit of opportunity spoiled on the vine

o…here flies her

within grasp but for one step

one more step

how it must feel to see her so close away

so very away

so near

and her

the one that stands out by trying to blend in

because she can’t 


when all the other stars shine, she…

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you’ll never be home —
sometimes two darks make a light — May 2, 2017
it’s January second afterall… —

it’s January second afterall…

(Today, while inspired by the wonderfully creative and philosophical mind of Aurora, once again, Threadbare, that’s me myself and me all over again I was reminded of this. And check out her blog, too, if you haven’t.)


Confused by the vapid voices of renewal

because it surely wasn’t her heart

that languided out of the new year cake

they did used to jump she recalled

she thought it was time to do something.

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