Saturday, June 4, 2022

Full Moon In A Hungry Sky


Image Source ~here~

"She wasn't doing a thing that I could see,
 except standing there leaning on the balcony rail,
 holding the universe together."
  ~ J. D. Saliner

We cradle the precious things

and place them carefully upon our lap

the miracle of newness is like a sacred prayer

it is hands raised high and heads bowed low

yet always in that moment eyes opened wider

we marvel and bask in the wonder of it all

it is a full moon in a hungry sky

hope’s whisper of a million questions

before the answers will ever reach our lips

a blooming garden at our feet

a child’s hand clutching ours

yet still we walk too fast

as time brushes by.


 Linking with the Sunday Muse for Muse #213

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Tuesday, May 31, 2022

Some Shelters

 There are some things you learn best in calm, and some in storm. ~Willa Sibert Cather


My first nightmares were always storms;

lightening, wind, and darkened skies.

The storms that blew from your eyes

and reigned on everyone!

Some shelters are just too weak

to hold up to all that blows.

A girl can end up broken

unless she gets the courage to get up and go.

Now I dream of soft places much like a mother’s arms.

Knowing that some shelters cannot protect you from the storm.

Linking with the Sunday Muse for Muse #212

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Saturday, April 2, 2022

The Smell of Bacon Never Lies



"The Whitehouse Diner" Photo by Aaron Segreaves

I always dream in color but this time there was the smell of bacon in the air.  They say you dream about what matters to you most.  I shared this with my therapist, and he said this explains a lot!  We mostly discussed my forlorn love life, my ex, and why apple pie is not my friend. You see, one of the last times I saw my ex was at the diner downtown.  He said he was hungry for more than dating with no strings attached.  I was certain he was full of it! I ordered coffee no cream no sugar, he laughed and said “that figures!”

Sure enough, 20 stale dates and 2 months later, I caught him with the waitress from the Tangerine Tango.  I know a bad egg when I see one and some rump roasts are always going to be tough!

Excuse me while I go make a BLT on rye.

Linking with the Sunday Muse for Muse #205

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Saturday, February 5, 2022

There is Warmth in the Congregation,


I tell you what I see — the landscape of the spirit requires a lung, but no tongue. 

~Emily Dickinson


Sisters I speak to you of loss

the cuts that tear down and leave us broken

they hit just as sure as a lumberjack

and we are never quite the same

but despair and love are a two-winged bird

even in the struggle to move on

there is a promise that lingers

and it has the power to lift us

remember that in your winter journeys

for birds soar the sky together

and there is comfort and warmth in the congregation


Daughters I speak to you of hope

even in the heavy burden of doubt

it has the power to change the landscape

if we give it light like an open curtain in morning

for life is both a forest and a mountain of cut logs

the path is hard and lovely

but even in the struggle to endure

there is a warming fire in our truest home


Mothers I speak to you of life

beyond the cries and breath of being

and before the prayers that yearned for something more

there are seeds planted long before the blossom’s greenery

soul’s song carried long before the throat a voice

for every mother carries and birth’s eternity.


For Susie 💖


Linking with the Sunday Muse for Muse #197.  The image here is different than the one at the prompt for my poem became a tribute to brilliant lighted souls and love but the words hold resemblance to the Muse image.  


Tuesday, January 18, 2022

Watching for Spring's Starlings


Linking with Shay's Word Garden Word List #9 (Joan Colby)

Come join the fun!

Every mile is two in winter. ~ George Herbert


The clocks of December move slow like a man with bad knees

Edging forward with scorn upon deaf ears

I try to ignore the feral breeze

And the rise of snow and it’s bitter sermon upon my face

If I had been newly kissed

The pressing feel would be gone like a gypsy in the night

Cold can be like fire’s touch when it is from the skull of a deep frost

Stealing the feeling from our extremities

And leaving the deepest of aches in our bones

One that no anesthetic can remove.


Sunday, January 16, 2022

A Wide Open Gate


It is quite simple you see
we see what we want to see
from the ocean waves to the forest trees

Each day becomes what we choose to believe

For perspective is a wide open and closed up gate
It is magic and miracles or cynical and fake
for some know doubt and others know faith

So today I choose to see great things!

Linking with the Sunday Muse for Muse #194
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Saturday, January 8, 2022

The Evidence of Eternity


“James Dean playing the bongos, NYC, 1955. Photographed by Dennis Stock ”

Ephemeral, eternal heart! ~Emily Dickinson


We are moved by the wings of longing

So we dance

We reach

We love

It is how we know we are truly alive

By more than a pulse of a beating heart

For there is a certain movement in everything

The soaring of unseen wings and visible hands bracing the fall

we bleed

we bruise

we learn

and rise to love again

it is the evidence of eternity

proof our heart beats for more than the blood within our veins.

Linking with the Sunday Muse for Muse #193

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Tuesday, December 14, 2021

I Buried Them Like a Coffin


Linking with Shay's Word Garden Word List #4 (Laura Nyro)

Come join us and read the post about her amazing life.

Thank you Shay my friend for another amazing prompt!

I saw poems in your eyes

but I buried them like a coffin

for they were piercing like winter

leaving me frozen in mourning

they stoned sinners and religion alike

fearless like firecrackers

that went where they would

but they are words I shall never write

your lip’s silent confession

will remain

holy in the cradle of an empty embrace

captain to a ship that shall never sail

they are as gone as the train that passed at midnight.

Saturday, December 4, 2021

When You Cannot Decide Write 3 Poems


Linking with the Sunday Muse for Muse #189 hosted by the utterly amazing poet Shay who has graciously filled in for me.  Thank you my friend!

I somehow ended up writing 3 different poems.  Nothing magnificent, just what the image spoke to me.

What We Learn to Carry,


When you are troubled with worry at a young age

Your faith either becomes a mighty force

Or it grows small like the mind of a cynical old man

Always speculating what could go wrong

But somehow you survive

The storm passes

If you are lucky

The near crash never happens

The fog clears

Your heart finds love anyway

You learn that the wolf on your back

Can be a friend even as a foe

One that gives us strength to carry on with him

Or the might to hold freedom in letting him go.


Don’t Attempt This at Home,


Somethings in life are foolish and others downright dangerous

Like giving birth at home,

chain saws and beer

 motor cycles on icy roads

Falling in love with your therapist

 Announcing at your father’s retirement party you are marrying an artist

Giving your brother old tuna sandwiches and hoping for the best

Walking in the woods alone when you are directionally challenged

Wearing a fur coat to a Sierra Club Convention

Smoking in bed

Living beyond your means

Driving with no insurance

Not reading the directions

Shall I go on?




We hunt for things we cannot see

The warmth we never knew

The shade of something greater

A love that is true

Sometimes in the searching

The wandering that lost hearts know

We find meaning in the journey

And show others where to go.

Saturday, October 23, 2021

Bad Hair Day Solution # 19


Linking with the Sunday Muse for Muse #183
Come join us!


I am pleased that lying on the sofa being a slob is finally considered the responsible thing to do.

 ~Matt Haig


If I could I would

Let my mask be more like a shroud

Suit up like an astronaut

Every time I walked in a crowd

Who cares if I seem out of place

I could glare at annoying people

And no one could see my face

Bad hair days would no longer exist

Hell it could be dirty and no one would know shit

Cause if I could I would

 let my mask be more like a shroud

Suit up like an astronaut

Every time I walked in a crowd!


Note:  Well my silly side got the better of me this week.  The last few weeks have been stressful with a death in the family, car trouble, and business of the everyday. So, I guess I needed to head in a funny direction for a change.  Wishing you all a safe & wonderful weekend.

💙 Carrie

Saturday, October 9, 2021

What Hands & Hearts Hold

Linking today with the Sunday Muse for Muse #181  come join us!


Speech is a prank of Parliament,
Tears a trick of the nerve, –
But the heart with the heaviest freight on
Doesn't always swerve.
~Emily Dickinson


When my hands were small

I could not hold the heaviness of many truths

although my heart could carry every loss like a fire fighter

leaving a burning building with lives to save

 still I wanted to know what lied ahead

I wanted answers to every question

to know why God was everywhere

and my mother could not be found

uncertainty leaves a certain ache

not knowing the next move

nor what will happen next

has a way of moving us all

one way or another

 like pain can lead a man to drink

and yet love can do the same

I have come to know that there is movement in all things

in the gift of joy and the loss of grief

a bird swiftly flies to a higher branch

 yet his feathers slowly fall

each moving somewhere different than where they began

my hands have grown with time and callus

and I have held the heaviness of knowing many things

and still there are many questions

even though my heart has learned to hold too much

 like a bishop holds the sacrament

and a knight his mighty longsword

bravery only moves forward

and love is always brave.