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With india-ink stains on my fingers...

The woosh of tires on wet pavement

trill of classical in the background

and rumble of trash bins wheeled from streetside

accompany my pen & ink… 26 more words


Not too late for Sorry, I hope.

New Year, new chances, right? 

A chance to right wrongs, make new starts, be better.

Well, I am trying.

Case in point:  after checking the weather on my phone this morning, I perused a dating app and lo and behold there was the pic of a guy whom I’d met when I was first divorced. 1,103 more words


Sometimes you feel like a poem . . .

and . . . sometimes you don’t.

So, I am now taking the liberty, here at my own little site where I can, to write prose and random unpoetic thoughts when I so feel like it. 247 more words


On (our) nature.

When you get down to it,

though mutable the sunlight

sky and ocean are always there

no matter how our appreciation waxes and wanes; 37 more words


Small beings.

Did you ever feel

not quite normal

as if usual dismissed then passed you by,

you with your head in the clouds

and dreams like wisps in the sky? 135 more words


Walking in the New Year.

What dampness greets me

in translucence

chill and fog –

starting anew one step ahead

yet paused by such grey weather instead I… 46 more words



What will you leave,

What will you take

as this new year


Glimmers of past and

slivers of hope,

tears and tears and… 35 more words