There’s Not Enough Words…


Today is the last day of a wondrous year. A time of growing as a writer and an independent woman who despite my age, experienced many “firsts”. I know there are more of those to come and I hope to embrace them as best I can and seek help when needed.

This post is being written as a way of expressing my continued thanks to my dedicated followers. The year 2013 saw an explosion of followers to my little blog. Since March, I have added 164 lovely people from all over the world to this space. I am glad my words and thoughts resonate with you. It is because of you that I continue to write and be inspired.  I have never considered myself to be a writer, really. Do I possess the gift of spoken word? Yes. Speaking and talking- absolutely! But writing? That is for those lofty souls who can delve deep into the human condition and make us laugh, cry, or simply breathe.

But encouraged I was by my eldest son and my now fiance’ back in the summer of 2012. I wrote and wrote and published weekly. Then came the fateful March Friday when WordPress interviewed Kellie Elmore  It was and is through her Free Write Friday prompts that my writing took and continues to take a different path. Without her, I would not have met, shared and read other talented writers who follow her and participate in these creative endeavors.

April came and WordPress offered its 30 poems in 30 days challenge (NAPOWRIMO). I had never written poetry in my life but another writer who follows me through email said: “There’s poetry in your words. You should give it a try.” Many thanks to Megan for the push!  Again, I gained new followers and discovered once more the power behind just a few words.

The spring gave birth to a bountiful season of summer writing (thanks once again to Kellie’s FWF) and my first ever series of creative fiction, one of which turned into a full-fledged short story. Never thought I had it in me!

Writers are vulnerable people. With each sentence we reveal more and more of ourselves and our life experiences. It is a risky business. We look less for pity (if at all) and more for affirmation and acceptance as artists. We want our words to touch and inspire others. Give them strength. Help them to know that they are not alone. Well, that is at least what I hope.

So once again, thank you to everyone who reads this blog. I hope you will continue to be with me in the coming year and encourage others to join in on the fun. I wish all of you a happy new year and one that is full of new discoveries about yourself and the world around you!

Language Love Affair

(Photo courtesy of


   I go to bed with words

Swimming, dancing and floating in my head

              They permeate my dreams

Flowing in and out of my consciousness

And sparking my imagination as I sleep

        They hold me in a tight embrace

              Like a red-hot lover

            I give in to the feelings

Opening up, yielding and surrendering

             Discovering and Uncovering

           Parts of me that were unknown

             Hidden deep inside my soul

Each turn of phrase is like a soft kiss on my lips

           Words whispering in my ear

                An audible sigh

               A loud cry

       Replete, Present, Fully-formed

Naked in the Bathroom*

Standing in the steam talkin’ to my ex

A forceful voice over the wireless

           I hear it now:

         My son taking sides

Being fed information based in lies

     The conversation drags on

      The steam disappears

      We start conversing

about what happened over the years

     The voice becomes softer

     The heat lamp goes on

I am trapped in my nakedness

As he turns the DENIAL button on

      It’s the same old song

Of course I’m the one that’s done wrong

      I listen to his “reality”

and the problems with my personality

     I choose my words carefully

I am getting colder, my clean hair lies flat

I want to put a stop to this endless chat

I hear his “love” or is it manipulation?

I need to get out of this sticky situation

I vacillate between trust, guilt and fear

Yet, through it all my decision is clear

The steam is gone, the heat lamp turned off

There is no hope for us now

He has not faced his “stuff”

It is time for my own life

    Enough is Enough

*(AUTHOR”S NOTE:  This a poem that I found in a journal from 2008- a year of tremendous personal upheaval. It is an actual scenario that occurred. I remember sending it to my now late mom who loved the truth and strength in it. I am sure that she would be proud that I am sharing it with a wider audience.)

Training Fatigue

training fatigue

Saturday morning she awakens with a sudden jolt

 It is 4 a.m.  Her calves lock with charlie horses

Her hips feel frozen, her back is in spasm

She has trouble rolling over

She lets out a groan

She needs to get to hot yoga without a doubt

Another ten-miler is in store for tomorrow

Arriving, she embraces the heat

Each inversion and twist is met at first with pain

Then release and relief

The poses feel good

But she forgoes wheel and frog

Saturday supper: pasta, water and wine

She slumbers at an early hour

Sunday morning 6 a.m.

Arising stiff but not too sore

Shall she go?

She needs the long run without a doubt

Pain simmers beneath the skin

A natural feeling for the distanced runner

Each mile is ticked off without notice

Until the last

Her legs announce themselves

in all their glorious grief

She finishes and bends over with welcome relief

A Way of Waiting

lovers waiting

When you were last here a snowstorm stranded us

We were hot with cabin fever

This morning I rise alone 

Chilled by the longing for you

I know that I need to wait

Spring is beginning its slow unfolding

The grass is getting greener by the day

The bare trees are just beginning to bud

The forsythias are in full bloom

I watch the sun rise from my bedroom window

I know that I need to wait

I go out to greet the day

Morning is stirring here, just a bit

The air has a hint of warmth

I listen for the early sounds of the day

I know that I need to wait

I hear the tearful coos of the mourning dove

The rat-ta–tat- tat of the woodpecker

The singsong serenade of the cardinal

Work keeps an ocean between us

I know that I need to wait

I hear the low hum of the traffic

and the long low  whistle of the train

Runners emerge for their daily exertion

I return home to face another day

And know that I need to wait

waiting quote

Sibilance II


The Victim Soars a s Survivor:

              She is:

Self-assured & Self-sufficient

     Satisfied & Serene

               She feels:

        Sensual & Sexy

She Shimmers, Sparkles & Shines

                She is:

  Oh So Sizzling & Sassy!


The Perpetrator: Sadly Remains the Same

                He is:

   Shameless & Shallow

    Shiftless & Shady

Scorned, Isolated & Separated

So as to stay safe from

his insinuating, insidious, insulting mistreatment

                He has:

Descended, Dissipated & Disappeared



The Yearning

lovers yearning

Tonight I wash away the stains of the day

Unravel the cloth that has wrapped me

Stretch out the aches and pains

Robe myself in silk

Clamber to the comfort of my bed


My thoughts are of you on this clear spring night

Sleeping beneath the pink moon

I long for your touch

Your sweet words

And you

Just you

Only you

Always you

What’s in Your Wallet?

messy purse




One long brown mini-purse that holds

$40 cash and various plastic cards

13 crumpled receipts that should be tossed

1 broken bracelet with the word “Passion” written on it

4 pens

1 journal

1 lime green sticky note pad

2 packs of gum

3 business cards

1 thumbnail drive-contents forgotten

4 tubes of lipstick

1 panty shield

2 tampons

A daily planner that I never use

3 shriveled napkins

An article about the Great Pacific Garbage Patch

2 pairs of sunglasses: 1 broken and 1 too big for my face

1 pair (of 3) reading glasses

1 tube of tarocco orange hand lotion-:it smells so clean!

2 used art museum tickets:an Easter memory

2 travel sized dental floss containers

A paper clip

An old grocery shopping list

A bandaid


Two Good Men


Eyes once full of innocence and mischief

Smiles that lit up like the noon day sun:

               Momma’s boys

Kicking and screaming their way through

the rocky years of teenage sullenness and rebellion:

                Nobody’s boys

Growing, changing, emerging and becoming

 solid, well-grounded, caring, respectful and focused:

                Momma’s men



VICTIM                                                                            PERPETRATOR

Stifled                                                                                   Stealthy

Scorned                                                                               Scurrilous

Stunted                                                                                Smarmy

Suppressed                                                                         Slick

Sequestered                                                                       Sleazy

Sundered                                                                             Sly

Secluded                                                                              Snide

Silenced                                                                                Secretive