tale of two airlines

they look at you with disdain
another one to complain
as you stand there in line
glancing up at the time

will you make it this flight
or must you stay overnight
will they make your trip memorable
or you wish it was forgettable

with grace and a smile
it might be a while
but a scowl and a frown
they’ve already let you down

dr jekyl and mr hyde
there are always two sides
we have a bed for you tonight
sorry…you’ll have to miss your flight.

Teachers (November Poem-A-Day: Day 3)

Write a poem that scares you. It could be a scary movie or ghost story poem. It could be a poem about a secret in your past. It could be a poem about your worst fear. It just needs to bring up a scary/fearful/uncomfortable emotion as you write.


That one would waste time

with issues so trivial

such as straps on a top

baffles my mind


That one would see

a child’s innocent hug

as something so wrong

gives no comfort to me


That one would be trusted

to guide my child’s future

when her own is in doubt

makes me a bit disgusted


Some are good I agree

they nurture and cherish

they’re loving and warm


Some are scary

so cold and distant

removed from emotions


Guide them

love them

teach them

that is your job.

Dissonance (November Poem-A-Day: Day 1)

Write a matches poem. The matches could be sticks that make fire. Or it could be matches from a game. Or the verb of “to match.” Or as in the phrase “He’s not a good match for you.” Or whatever other match you can make.



Should I draw you a picture

or would words suffice

seeing how they get twisted

when you stop being nice


When laughter turns to silence

when eyes simply turn away

thirteen months ended up

being one hell of a price to pay


Should I leave you a snapshot

or an album of fading memories

seeing how our past would be erased

and replaced with falsified stories


The firm grip of vexation

I now leave behind

the haunting of your stern look

forever embedded in my mind.


BREAKFAST DREAMS (April Poem-A-Day Challenge - Day 7...A scene of interacting without words)


without prompting or guidance

without further insistence

he fills the briki with water

takes the plates to the garden


she turns on the stove

adds sugar to the water

grabs bread, butter, and jam

which he takes from her hands


the children are gathered

around the outside table

and watch squirrels and birds

on top of the birdhouse gable


the water now boils

the briki’s removed

coffee’s stirred in

he hands her the cups


the five gather now

faces light up

smiles all around…

the alarm now sounds.

DARKNESS OBSCURES (April Poem-A-Day Challenge - Day 6...Hiding)


darkness conceals

all that is real

that which light

so strongly reveals


memories flood back

in this night’s black

of a time long gone

one fondly looked upon


beneath the years

laughter and tears

one so innocent and vulnerable

replaced with one less gullible


a time of youth

long since passed

years gone by

with wisdom amassed


light interrupts

what darkness obscures

revealing a truth

of which we’re unsure.



Once I was someone

with bright red hair

a nose ring or two

big black tall boots

and A-line skirts


Once I was someone

with black painted nails

stark black hair

the day you met me

with streaks of white


Once I was someone

who expressed herself

by what she wore

a mere shadow now

of someone no more


Once I was someone

I recognized as me

made my own decisions

free to be as I am

a person no longer I know.

I NEVER DID (April Poem-A-Day Challenge - Day 3...Apology)


My apologies to you if you misunderstood

those two little words meant “I would”

to have you and hold you ‘til death us do part

to cherish and love you with all of my heart


My apologies to you if you mistook my smile

to mean I would stay longer than awhile

for better, for worse, in good, and in bad

in sickness, in health, and times when you’re sad


You should have questioned those calls each night

instead of attempting to avoid a fight

you should have seen that “meeting” meant “date”

and wondered why I always came home late


Your ignorance and bliss were your blunder

as you never once stopped to wonder

when always as you had something to say

I would tell you to save it for another day


That day has come as you stand at the door

and hear me tell you I love you no more

your blue eyes grow wild in disbelief

as you take off for an hour to confront your grief


The day before we were planning our future

now you’re left with an open suture

a promise of truth, love and admiration

now shattered and torn, a disintegration


My apologies to you if you misunderstood

those two little words of “I do”

as promises were broken and secrets I hid

I no longer love you…and I never did.

A MOMENT SO BRIEF (April Poem-A-Day Challenge - Day 2...Visitor)


I did not expect

to hear from you today

I did not wish to listen

to what you had to say


For a moment so brief

you knocked at my door

pushed so hard

I ended up on the floor


Unexpected as your visit

had been this noon

I was not ready

to leave so soon


The car in my rear mirror

coming ever so nearer

the one before me

its motion slowing


To my left

another approaches

in an instant

death encroaches


With all my might

I turn aside

though you had hoped

that I had died


I managed to shut

the door in your face

claim my own life

put you in your place


I wish not to see you

especially today

with my three kids

I would rather play


I yearn to cook dinner

and clean dirty dishes

a new morning to see

as one of my first wishes.



***Inspired by a near collision today on the freeway driving home.

NO REPOSE (April Poem-A-Day Challenge - Day 1...Communication)


in silence I sit

in silence I ponder

my mind drifts endlessly

my thoughts now wander


escape is my goal

the pen is my friend

do you hear me now?

will the reticence end?


silence is needed

in order to compose

to hear my own thoughts

to write my own prose


I yearn to share

do you dare to hear?

do wish to know

what I deem dear?


confined within walls

behind the screen

no one to hear

the deafening screams.

Do You Like to Cook?


those food people

those bloggers

how I do not like

those Internet cloggers


Look here

no, look over here

wait, what about me

come see, come see


would you like

to learn to cook

would you like

to write a book?


would you like

to snap your meal

with this pricey camera

it’s a steal!


I do not like

 to cook, I say

not at night

not in the day


would you like

to learn to cook

from a book

a blog or

3x5 note card?


not with a book

not from a blog

not from a simple

grocery store card


would you like to cook

with kids and me

or a Food Network

tv celebrity?


not with the kids

not with a “pro”

get out of my kitchen

just get out and go!


would you like

to write a book

like Cook 1

and Cook 2?


do you want

that certain style

that’s been out

for a while?


or have you

something new to share

tell me, tell me

do you dare?


I will not

write a book

I do not

like that look


I will not buy

a cup, a dish

a useless plate

for some poached fish


would you like to go

to anthropologie,

sur la table,

and Z gallerie?


I do not

need to shop

get out, get out

and make it stop!


would you like

to shoot your meal

in a pretty bowl

on boards of pine

a splash of color

on the side?


not in a bowl

not on white boards

not with bright fabrics

just get out and go!


Do it, do it

and you’ll see

follow my blog

and you will need…


that cup,

a dish,

a bowl,

a towel,

a mandoline,


and layer cake dowel

the fabric

the burlap

white paint

and boards

and let’s not forget

the books

oh, lord!


fine, fine

if you say

I will try it

this fine day


I will try it

if you may

then please, oh please

just go away



that bowl’s divine

the food sublime

I might just need

that plate or two


the lens you use

I need as well

perhaps that table

you could sell


I will learn to cook

from a book, a blog,

and even from 

a 3x5 card


I will buy a camera

with lenses galore

now tell me…

do I need more?


I will buy the bowls

the cups and plates

the books and boards

and off-white paint


I will write a book

as Cook 1 and Cook 2

I will buy Photoshop

and Lightroom too


I will post large photos

of food that I make

I will make it look real

and not so fake


I will post recipes

found in abundance online

change three ingredients

now they’re all mine


So, do I like to cook?

why yes

Will I write a book?

Oh, sure!


do I like to write?

certainly, I say

I will gladly write

all night and all day


So, I will write

 on my site

I will cook

what I want

I will share

recipes and photos,

and use really cool fonts


Yes, I do like to cook

I will write my own book

I will cook with my kids

I will have my own look.

a glimpse

The sweet sounds of music classified by iTunes as “Rap Metal” play in the background as endless rounds of stitches on hats from a bottomless basket of unfinished knitted items, that will eventually make it to the shop, are meticulously straightened. Round after round, the knitting needle picks at the yarn leaving behind a neat little line of v’s.  Perfection is a curse at times. The empty bottle of Chateau d’Arcins’ Haut- Medoc from last night stares back, only a glassful left tonight…only a puddle of reddish-purple liquid remains as a tease.

Surrounded by thousands of yards of yarn, four unique and vastly different coffee mugs holding every size needle imaginable, journals of original designs piled in one corner of the table, the now broken knitting counter lying at “00” waiting for the next project. Fans from the desktop suck in the fibers floating around in the studio. Yarn ends and half-inch yarn pieces from pom pom making litter the Persian rug behind the deep cherry hardwood dining chair borrowed from the formal dining room. Unwashed silk sari ribbons form a large pile in a corner and wait for their bath while freshwater pearls, garnets, amethyst stones, and various glass beads sit in a glass serving bowl amidst silk thread and a needle. Ideas abound, motivation lacking at times, pulled in several directions at once, and staring into the abyss.

Thoughts wander away from the task at hand. Music gets louder. The image appears…an old lady sitting in a wooden rocking chair, knitting needles clacking second after rhythmic second, a basket of cheap acrylic yarn at her feet, a fat tabby cat playfully attacking a ball of yellow yarn as her master sits rocking back and forth in front of the fire. Oh, how that image has changed in only a few short years as young women flock to well-known online shops to gather up the various thick and thin handspun yarns, wooden Surina knitting needles, to sit in front of their computers, to see what’s going on in the virtual world of Facebook, to see how they can berate their competitors. Harsh words are spoken, ties are broken, leaving behind nothing but hate and contempt. Unnecessary waste of time that could better be used to create something of beauty.

The sweet tunes of Linkin Park's various albums continue to inspire and play in the background as determination and ideas proliferate.