Pup . . . . . .

his birthday
is not important
to me

it is the day
he died
the day he
me behind
the day
I watched
the tide
carry him
take his spirit
out to sea
still I see him
along the beach
my big wooly
my dark dog
my big
black Pup
I miss your bark
I miss your breath
I miss your play
I miss my
soul mate

so I say
to my Pup
never set
me free

I endure
my pain
one that
is so
for it is all
that I
have left of

we meet again
I will pretend
that I hold
you close
watch you run
the beach
as we used
to do
we still
snuggle close
as I
nuzzle you

I guess that this is an “unbirthday poem.” It is what came to me for Poet’s United “Birthday Poem.” I know just how much Sherry misses Pup. He was/is the love of her life. I grew up with horses, cats and dogs. I love my animals. I have never been without a cat. Before David came into my life, Max was my great love. He was Siamese and devilish. But what a love – we were inseparable. Sherry writes about Pup today. Her poem is haunting and painful and can be found .

This poem is linked to Poetry United’s Mid Week Motif’s Birthday Poems.


I have neither blogged nor written poetry for good bit now. And I cannot tell you why. I hope that everyone has a splendid 2014. Remi came into my life a couple of weeks ago. This was a choice, I asked Remi to join me. For some reason when my father died in 2003 I found and purchased several, beautiful, handmade Teddy Bears. Why did I capitalize those two words? Perhaps it is a sign of their importance to me. This past December I purchased two more, I simply love what they represent to me, all of which can be found in the tags.

The holidays have come and gone
Our visitors have left
Loneliness has settled in

I knew that loneliness was unfounded
And sorrow just wasn’t real
But I longed for someone

Then I saw his face online
He was beautiful
It love at first sight

Now he has come to live with me
Filling my heart with joy
We play together having teddy bear teas

He arrived from Holland
His mother is an artist
Remi is my sweetness

Rasa his mother has asked me to write
Write about her teddys
Give them a voice

I am excited about that
Remi has many stories of his mother
I think that is where we shall start


Remi – sitting upon my desk.

Published at Imaginary Garden With Real Toads Open Link Monday, yes, I am a day late!

Published at dVerse Open Link Night! Yeah, they are open!

Bear Shop Artist’s Credit: Rasa’s Cozy Corner


It will be here before you know it. The Christmas season means so many very different things to so very many people. I will add that much of it is not good. How could it be that the remembrance of the coming of the Christ Child could evoke in so many such bad feelings. I find that reality such a terribly sad thing. There is nothing sad about the Christ, nor about his remembrance, his birthday … the day we humans have decided is his birthday.

Maybe if we were to celebrate Christmas daily, yes, every day of the year then there would be no sadness about it. The whole concept would not hurt so many people. Oh, I know that it does. Yes, it does indeed. It is exclusionary, leaves many out, something often done with distain. Probably meant to hurt others. And yet everything about the “Good News” is just that … good. So why does the birth of Christ bring pain to so many? Oh, right! It is the human element. Yes, it is we humans who make Jesus a sad and miserable entity for so many. But how? How could that be? Are we Christians so incredibly stupid as to believe it is “our way” or the highway? I have seen in my day, seen so many Christians who actually wish to “pummel” Christ into people. My understanding of religions is that they were initially designed by God (before being bastardized by man) as languages given to the different cultures by God so that God and the culture could communicate. So what is there to fight about? Nothing! So if you celebrate this season with Christ … Merry Christmas! And if you celebrate this season as a Wiccan, as many do, blessed be! Let us all celebrate together, sharing the goodness and joy of the season.

there are times

there are times
in the dwindling
of the day
when I no longer
think of you
what your warmth
could be
don’t need
for I feel you
in my heart
shaped bones
for all times
feel you in
the curve of
my hand like
sending fire
down my spine
the light gone
bled out into
night softness
curls me now
how felt it is
a bit like leaves
on the move
without the wind
the single leaves
fondling air
one day I will
touch you
we will melt
and just
not be there

Placed at dVerse Poetry Pub OpenMikeNite.

Not A Poem

Memoir Through Verse and Prose

I realize today that not all memoir can be written though verse. I did so after reading two posts this morning that made me think about the importance of love. One post was not even that, it was simply an invitation to write. But it was unique because it was filled with love. I believe love to be the most important place upon earth, yes place. I say place for it is and can be a place to dwell. When love comes though us to another it can change lives. I read a second post today that moved me. This post was filled with wisdom written through metaphor about becoming the best that we can be. It was beautifully written and the comments were marvelous.

I realized that when we are at a point in our lives when we are becoming “the best that we can be,” we are often still young, striving and less fully formed than those who are further along on the path. We may not yet know the power of love, a love called Agape. Once we have become the best that we can be, once we are done, formed, that love will just come out of us. I had an extraordinary experience once that demonstrates this love. Please do not make the mistake of thinking that this story is about Liz. It has almost nothing to do with me – I was a conduit.

When we bought our home thirty years ago, where we lived was more important than the home we selected. Due to this thinking I chose a building that I for many years termed the second ugliest house in St Louis. In fact it was (in my opinion). However, we were living in the neighborhood that we wished to be in. This is a three story building built in 1898, a four square. In the 1960s someone tore it up and made nasty little apartments out of it. When we moved in we had a tenant. She was with us for twenty years. She was the very best tenant anyone could ever of had. She was an African American woman who was my age and single. Like myself she worked in healthcare. She had a very loving and caring nature.

Several years later after she had moved, I knew that she had suffered a stroke and that she was recuperating in a nursing facility. I decided to visit her. I have been in many nursing homes for professional reasons. This home was state owned. Without a doubt I can tell you that it was the most disgusting place that I have ever been. She died there. When I visited, I was greeted by the most outrageous stench of urine and feces. It was grotesquely pervasive.

I sat down we talked for a while. She expressed a need to use the bathroom, for which she needed nursing assistance. I knew that she would wait all afternoon before anyone would bother to answer her bell. She was a larger woman that I. I sensibly could say “goodbye” at this point and inform the staff that she needed attention. But I also knew that she would receive none. She would be made to lie in her own feces and urine until another shift had come to work.

She was a little embarrassed, but I knew that there was nothing like having “to go” and not being able to do so. She was unable to walk and needed a wheel chair. I will never know how we managed, but I got her into the chair, into the bathroom, onto the toilet, up, wiped and back into the wheelchair, then back into bed … all in this wreaking, filthy place. Somehow God just decided to use me that day and I am glad that he/she did. I am not sure that I could do it again. But I will say that allowing love to stream through me was rewarding and good. Again know that this story is not about me.

Posted at Poetry Pantry in Poets United with the hope I don’t get kicked out for no poetry.

Occupy Blogosphere 2013 January Sixteenth

I have been given a job to do this year a New Year’s Resolution. It is a bit lofty. I am meant to love the world this year, quite actively. The hatred level is high right now in the USA. I find it discouraging, but I do not allow it to discourage me. The level is dangerous. But I will forge ahead for it can be done. I have since January 1st, needed to be reminded twice of my new job. And I really am working on it. The picture below was my first reminder. Shakti Ghosal’s article was my second reminder. I give you a link below to his article.


When I link the credit for the photo above, the link won’t show up. I suspect that this because it is a Facebook page. I found the photo without real credit at a group on Facebook called “Stop Workplace Bullies.”

Love is the only real way to make progress in this world … love of self, love of family members, love of society, love of all, if we wish to advance, into 5th Dimensional Energy. So thanks to Soul Dipper for bringing me to that realization before the end of 2012. Then thanks to Shakti Ghosal for bringing me back to my goal with his spectacular article: Connecticut – Delhi – Hooponono

I had wished to “Reblog” the article but I had technical difficulty Shakti has a wonderful spirit that reaches into the heart of others. He is one of great wisdom and love for mankind. I feel greatly honored to have found his blog. Please read the article. It will bless you.

Disgorged Words

What is it that I am putting off?
Surely I have examined the issue for a long enough period of time.

Dear reader are you doing what you are meant to do?
What have you put off doing that you should be doing?

First, I don’t call myself a writer, I don’t really call myself anything.
I have dabbled in numerous arts including poetry.

It never occurred to me to “get published.”
I have really never had the desire and yet that is meant to be the goal, isn’t it.

So, back to the “what have you not done that you ought be doing?”
That is my way of putting it on you, giving myself more time, procrastinating a bit more.

My life has been one of learning lessons.
Not just learning lessons as they come, but purposefully seeking out the lessons to learn.

There was a time when twenty-nine that I wished to pursue further spiritual growth.
But God said: If that is so, you will need to stop smoking.” Bummer.

But I did quit because I was more interested at that point in reaching my goal.
So what am I putting off now, today?

I am old now and still learning so why is it so hard to begin this task?
There are so many excuses, I don’t know how, I don’t have time, I don’t want to.

I have done the healing, done the forgiving, gone back, way back in time.
I have the answers. I know why she was the way she was.

So who am I supposed to write about? My mother is dead. My father is dead.
And I know nothing about memoir.

There you have it. How and where do I begin?
Isn’t it a bit presumptuous of me to wish to put this all down on paper?

OK, the computer?
I really, truly do not know.

Now playing at dVerse OpenLinkNight

Occupy Blogosphere, Thursday September 27th 2012 – Willingness

Political season comes along and any discord within me seems to bubble up to the surface all aimed as hatred at the Republican Party and their candidates.

I have very eloquently and articulately insulted half the United States in the past month or two with snide comments upon Face book. So apparently I have used the heart for purposes of hate rather than love.

I believe it to be sinful to use your heart for hatred. Some of those people, at whom I aimed my political ire are people who have been constant here in my life. Constant. That means that they have been caring, loyal and never wavering. So, I have hurled insults and hatred into the faces of people who have cared about me. I am sorry for having done that. I have had a slight shift in thinking of late. Gratefully that shift in thinking came to me about 10 days ago, so that I could stop my political nonsense and use the heart for what it was meant for, a tool of love.

This is one of those times for me to refocus and move my focus one millionth of an inch to the right or left, up or down in order to see more clearly and to think differently. It is time for me to change or to shape shift as it is known in indigenous cultures. It is time to take control, time to take back my power, time to view the world through a loving lens instead of a hateful one. And believe it or not it is easier than you might think. One simply needs to be willing. Just one millionth of an inch … that is how long willingness is. Being willing to change is half the battle. Being willing is an act of one’s will. The change you desire to make will follow by the grace of spirit.

This post joyfully shared with Soul Dipper’s Occupy Blogosphere Thursday