Pastiche Poetry

Do you ever revisit things you’ve written in the past and turn them into something new? Snippets and thoughts that started life as something else, only to be repurposed. I do. Especially with my poetry. In fact, most of my poems are curious little Frankenstein’s Monsters of lines and ideas I’ve pasted together — stealing

Sunflowers

I keep a vase of sunflowers on my windowsill, Reminders in dark days the sun is always with me still. Each blossom; sown and nurtured, tended by my hands alone. Blessed am I, to bring their love and light into my home. Outside, they follow with adoring gaze, as their God spins sideways through the

Purpose

There will be times when the world seems too much for you. Too loud. Too angry. Too demanding. You will lose all your words in the chaos, Rediscover them in all the wrong places. Those moments may spur you to recede, to withdraw from the uproar and disruption. You may seek your peace in solitude,

Glass Ghosts, Unbroken

Everywhere I go now I carry small pieces of green glass with me, Worn smooth by the ceaseless sea, And made pale by the powerful sun. Broken and discarded yet also a small token of delight. Each time I find some lying on the beach, I pick it up. I pocket it. And always it

Lost

Shoe, Who do you belong to? How is it that there is only one of you, And not two? Forgetting both, that seems like a thing I’d do. But to lose one only, half of a pair, seems almost too odd to be true. I wonder if your owner will miss you, Return to collect

Terpsichore

As my dearest Nana once used to say, “It’s blowing a hoolie outside!” And we’re locked in a merry dance today, The rhythmical wind and I. With a whispering, fluttering, swooping and skittering. A floating and soaring, surging and roaring. We’re coupled in an amorous masquerade, As I’m thrown and I’m spun by this wild

Do That Thing!

Do That Thing! That thing that scares you Pushes you Drives you to your very limit And encourages you to dig deep Within yourself? Do that thing! That thing that excites you Inspires you Unlocks many new doors which You’ve never even thought about Opening? Do that thing! That thing that nourishes you Feeds you

Bend the Weave

How do my children see so much with gentle eyes that absorb those things that I, older and yet still so inexperienced, know of so little. How can they still smile when all those raw images, projected into them without consent, still race, pulsate toy with their private thoughts. How do they hear the vulnerable