Thought Bubble

Okay, so I’m not really sure that this qualifies as a poem.  The prompt I was replying to was: “What’s in your thought bubble right now?”  …and, yeah, I edited it after the fact, so it really doesn’t count as “right now,” does it?  So… I guess the prompt should be edited to read, “What’s in your thought bubble after you’ve edited it; please don’t change it again after you’ve posted it, ’cause what’s the point, right?”

A warm puppy.
A dream left unanswered.
Life’s misadventures make for great comedy.
Shakespeare was a show-off.
Politics make for low comedy.
Mondays are better when faced with the promise of Port.
Joseph Heller underestimated corporate stupidity.

About a Bout of Vertigo

“Like a wheel within a wheel….”

— Alan and Marilyn Bergman,
Windmills of Your Mind

Vertigo unraveled
me from bed this morning
like a dust devil
like a depression
that refuses to become
a storm.

I wish
it to spin less.

It is all about
attitude; a tilt
of my head… and…

I am tilting
with windmills
in my mind.

August Moon

The sturgeon eye stares
down wide open, unblinking
tonight – too light to allow
sleep without shades.

As the eye blinks
its slow steady winking
the sands sink
under its heavy sway.

At the Easel


long stroking
knife scrap

ever slowly
it begins to take shape.

now changes
stark contrast
blend in
swirl and mix

Ah, shadow!

Burnt umber

step back

“Yes, I see…. You’ve painted me!”




No Slytherin, I



In darkened turmoil
a child who dreaming
sleep’s chaos to roil
and darkness uncoil

At the foot unreal
climbed abed flicking
a forked tongue soft feel
touched my tender heel

A black serpent here
upright voiceless scream
unreasoning fear
a nightmare quite clear

Reality now
our dog calls alarm
snake with angry brow
Chase the fear but how?

Snakes should flee, instead
‘though I’m armed he comes
viper he brings dread
strike, sever his head

A Cottonmouth he
will charge and strike out
the he may be a she
baby snakes may be

Brave, I’m no great shakes
fear with action me
I’ll do what it takes
“Why’d it have to be…?”

dVerse – Poets Pub
Poetics: What Are You Afraid Of?
Mish is our barkeep tonight and she’s challenging us to open up and share our fear(s) in a poem.  Come join us; but don’t say I didn’t warn you!  Muahahaha!

Don’t Call Me By My Middle Name Anymore; I Won’t Answer!


Charley Laney, Original Mickey Mouseketeer, 1956. Not me.

“I read in a book once that a rose by any other name would smell as sweet, but I’ve never been able to believe it. I don’t believe a rose WOULD be as nice if it was called a thistle or a skunk cabbage.” ― L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables

“It ain’t what they call you, it’s what you answer to.” ― W.C. Fields


I start
my part
my frame
that name

Ten years
fed fears
felt caged
thoughts raged

New home, new school, new friends…

New name!

Mom wars
heart sores
life split
(think o’it!)

Long fight
spell right
that’s me

Last name still trips many….



dVerse – Poets Pub
I am who I am, but tomorrow, who knows?

Lillian, our barkeep tonight, posted, “For today’s Quadrille (a poem of 44 words: no more, no less – not including the title), create a self-portrait.  Perhaps it will be a snapshot of you in some moment of time. Or a taste of your tastes. Or a glimpse into the conglomeration of you — are we perhaps the ultimate nesting doll? Many of us post photos or images with our poems so in this instance, it could be a recent photo; a photo taken in your sepia days; a picture of something you cherish that in essence tells us who you are; an abstract drawing or a flower or animal or color that you ascribe to yourself. Try to make the image complementary to your words.

So, think about it for a while. Who are you? No one word to include in this prompt….just asking you to create some type of self-portrait that you’re comfortable sharing. Let your words be your palette and make broad or fine brush strokes as you wish. You’re the artist here!”