darkness of eyes, darkness of cloudsflowing off the Gulf,lamps will not light this place as cerulean yields to burgundyas night folds us into velvet,when we sleepyou sometimes hold my hand —— from “When You Sleep Without Pain” by Peach Delphine in Feral Poetry
Sharing time with friends and family became a precious commodity during lockdown. I think it’s given us time to think. Is the grudge we hold against old hurts really that important? Does it really matter if Uncle Joe is a jerk when you see him once a year? So much of our reactions and attitude … More Favorite Poetry: 1st Quarter 2021
Pink Moon 5 a.m. & the moon looms large in my pollen-streaked window, tree branches knocking across her surface. It’s been ages since I’ve been awake in this early morning hour, I’ve forgotten how solid the night can be, empty of ghosts in the closet and monsters under the bed – they only seem to … More NaPoWriMo Day 27
I often turn to poetry when I’m feeling restless. There’s something about the rhythm and flow that seems to calm me, even if the subject isn’t calming. In that way, it’s a lot like music. The images of a poem mimic the melody of a musical piece, bits flowing in our heads just when we … More Poetry That Will Drop Your Mouth Open
Sprinkle immune support powder on the cats’ food cheese on the dogs’ food sunflower seeds beneath the squirrel’s perch nutrients on roses water on zinnias pebbles around the succulents wonder in your eyes music in your ears earth beneath your fingers
Wake up each morning with a grateful heart because what else can we do? Our path is short, stones poke and roll under our feet, we stumble. But nine times out of ten, we catch ourselves, look up, bathe our faces in sunlight.
Every single essay on this list is a story that had to be told. Every single one had me nodding my head and thinking, “Yes. I needed to read this right now.” I love fiction and I love poetry but there’s just something about personal essay and memoir that I love more. I think it’s … More Favorite Nonfiction, 3rd Quarter
The southerly breeze in my face smells like the Gulf & Magnolia blossoms, tiny golden faces peer up at me amidst riotous green – weeds to some, beauty to me.
I love the space of time before a storm when the clouds are running across the sky and the wind is screaming through the streets. As a kid, I used to sit on the carport and watch the trees, their branches waving wildly in an Earth Dance, leaves chattering like skeleton teeth. The earth is … More Morning Meditation: Storm’s coming
This quiet sigh of a morning draws me in clamor and clusters now a distant prairie in another world