Thursday, February 21

Rouge Flower

agony and pain
on seeing the rouge flower
fever burns throughout

written for Carpe Diem


In a fit of fury she scribbled
       then took a step back to admire her work

blurred vision on account of tears
             maybe made her reconsider those words

she ain't good enough for even that
 I heard her mumble under her breath
 Gone was MEANIE
in it's place

    Ugly Whore!
now adorned the bathroom door

Written for Dverse Poets

Tuesday, February 19

Careful What You Wish For

Creative Writing Prompt: I want My Legs Back. Picture it & Write February 17, 2013. |

As quickly as she could she began to erase what she'd drawn. It was a mistake that she'd ever picked up her pencil again. Wretched wish. When the falling star had fallen across the night sky, she'd pleaded that her art  be more realistic. And now she was paying the price. Back and forth, faster, quicker, and with more speed she moved the eraser on her paper. She needed to get rid of the little man before he could jump out and cause a scene.

Written for Picture it and Write it.


Written for Carpe Diem


night sky stretching thin
freckled with fragments of light
canopy of rest

Monday, February 18

Wisdom and the Bee

little honey bee
among the dewy flowers
thinking of a sting

wisdom enters in
do not be rash or foolish
she warns the small bee

stings can be deadly
although you're angered today
think before  you act

little honey bee
paid no mind to Wisdom's voice
stinging in passion

there lies the body
of the little honey bee
who ignored Wisdom

Many meetings and mutterings
over recondite matters
Witches with their withering
weep over spells forgotten

Hidden from the populace
in the clandestine of the country
There flickers a light of darkness
an eternal flame of hell

Written for The Mag

Every Saturday
Serving iceberg wedge salads
For a petty tip

Written for Carpe Diem

The Second-Hand Shop

Walk in and see
sunlight silhouetting snow
that drifts up into your nostrils
clinging, begging, wanting
to be taken home
along with the books and Barbies
of years past
the one about Russians taking over
the one with the hair singed off
finger the tie-dyed dress
the moths have had their lunch
sit on the flowered sofa
buttocks almost touch the floor
across the room
there is a white and black toothed creature
silent now
decades ago though
decades ago though
stomping feet moved about it
people swung
as a woman sang
and they all got drunk with that moonshine.

Allie's aspirations could be summed in one word: marriage
George's dream, however was multi-tiered:
Girls first, lot's of girls
Then make a niche at the office
Climb, climb, climb with the gentlemen
Then settle, settle, settle, with the drollest little virgin

And Andy? What became of him, that little chap caught between a young mom and a retired casanova?
No one knows exactly. 
But rumor has it
He went to Harvard
And drives a souped up sports car

Written for Sepia Saturday

Saturday, February 16

never thought I'd like having friends
enjoy them
come to depend on them
like an addict to drugs
the company of females
sacred and secret
shared laughter and advice
at the mediocrity of life
give me a Saturday afternoon
with a latte
and a few girlfriends
I'll arrive home a new woman
entering through the door
like a wilted flower
revived by the rain

Must buy chicken for our dinner.


Thursday, February 14