Thursday March 28, 2012 Prompt from Naming Constillations

Naming Constellations  The prompt was to write a poem about ephemera and write it on paper and leave it somewhere public.  Take a picture and post the poem.

The first ‘Remember Me’ I left at the car wash in the rack that holds the ‘what to do in Taos.’

I left this one at the grocery store.

Remember Me

My Grandparents

Strong, loving, laughing

I thought they would always be here

My Parents

The same

And you…

Solid… touchstone


I am slowly fading

Tomorrow I will be gone


Will you remember

Monday March 26, 2012 Magpie Tales


Magpie Tales


The Time We Are Apart

It’s been awhile

Since I came to call

Held your image before me

Looked into the mirror

To see myself reflected


What happens to thoes moments

When we are apart

Do they ride an escalator to the next floor

Is time suspened into

Long naps

Shaded in the afternoon sun


Are they waiting for the reunion

I hold your image before me

Look into the mirror and see myself

Sunday March 25, 2012 Sunday Whirl #49 and Sunday Scribbling #312

Image from internet – Pams clip art

The Joy of Sweeping

A very small girl

Loved to sweep

Could create a

Playhouse anywhere

A world of her own



One favorite place

Was under a large tree

Which gave shade from

The hot Texas sun



It was just outside her

Mother’s kitchen door

A child’s joy

Transform space

With dolls and toys



She was a tiny alchemist

A craftsman

She could gauge

The exact space needed



Still today the juices flow

When considering space

Tender considerations

Like the child of long ago

What is needed



Acumen is projected

Sprinkled with whimsy

Oiled with love

She picks up

Her broom

And sweeps away

The acid of her life

Until all is supple once more


Sunday Scribblings #312  Prompt:  “The Rest of the Story”

The Rest of the Story

You open green almond eyes

Hold me in your gaze

Ask for the rest of the story

But until death the story is not complete

We will have to wait and see

It’s been no disappointment so far

You tell me what you think is needed

It didn’t occur to me

The story would end so soon

Or would end that way…

Friday March 23, 2012 The life of an artist

As an artist, I go to work each day, and if asked, I would gladly tuck the work under the bed, out of sight, but long ago in art school I was told it is important that the artist share her work, for we might give other inspiration.  But like everyone else, I find rejection a bit hard.

Art Competition
Turn on computer
Read the email
Like a slap
Or a door slammed
In the face

Don’t like it
Don’t want it
Not chosen
Not good enough
Doesn’t please
And yet…

I have done my part
Over years
Created the work
Entred on time
Paid my fee

My ears sting
Still waiting
For your smile
Take a breath
Sun shines
Wind chimes tinkle
In the breeze

Scrape myself
Off the floor
Begin again

Tuesday 20, 2012 dVerse

The art is created

The visual statement is clear

Time to show the work

What to say

What will the viewer see

What will he think

Perhaps it is best

To just let the work

Speak for itself

Note:  The wind has blown hard all day.  It whistles to me in the studio.  I had an appointment this afternoon to meet with a director of a museum… always hard for the artist.  The meeting went well, and I am prepared for the next step, which will be to sent a packet to be seen and judged by the committee for a spot in the schedule.  Wish me well!

March 18, 2012 Sunday Whirl

Wordle #48

Note:  It  seems right now, at the is very moment, I am in a state of “quiet?”  The words seems to be hiding, I must search for them and upon finding them… they make no sense?  I am wondering… should I be making lists?  I will make a list.  Each word a visual picture.














March 10, 2012 Sunday Whirl Wordle #47

Monarch Butterflies migrating to Mexico

Sunday Whirl Wordle #47

A Day Like Any Other Day

Or so it seemed

No accident

All was deliberate

The day was intently charged

Even the pouring of the libation

There was to be a sacrifice

We gathered to settle

Still there was confusion

In a clear voice 

The question asked

There would be no trouble between us

toll was charged

We each would pay

Handle our grief alone

Our sorrow could be felt on Mars

Each was intent on the needs of my Mother

When the last breath was taken

We became as robots

We were ready

Each task was completed as planned

Then we parted

We took our grief home

In the days that followed

There would be plenty of time to sort the loss

Note: It was November 14th, 2011, in Texas, the day I arrived.  I took the picture of the butterflies on the loquot tree in my Mother’s front yard.  My Mother was dying, I saw the butterflies getting the last of the necture before their journey, they still had a long way to go, and so did we.  My family gathered, and long we had spoken of the way we only used polite conversation, the difficulty we seemed to have with the “truth.”  That was all gone, at last we could be honest with each other.  It seemed each one there, was blessed and more beautiful that ever before.

March 6, 2012

Spring Time in Taos

Happy Birthday Spring

Some came reciting their verses
Learned in Sunday school
Others came in search
Of silent, secret, invisible words
To tell a new story
A new life
In a new world

Sir Robin Redbreast
Flew to the window
Wants to come in
Feathers glistened in the
Waning afternoon sunlight

Shadows lengthened
Tops of dark green pine trees
Still loaded with rich red cones
Snow in ragged patterns
Snuggle at the base of chimisa
Sounds of music muffled low
Announces season’s change
New beginning, birth, renewal
We give life another go

Saturday March 3, 2011 Wordle


Early Morning Encounter

Still coatless I pull on woolly socks

As the early mornng shadow chills my spine

The white snow transforms the landscape

From my kitchen window

I see you rise up from

Your bed of twigs

To meet this cold morn

Your daughter is with you

The fullness of your coat

Keeps you unaware

Of the icy flakes

That settle on your back

You have returned

After many days

I will not admonish you

But prefer your presence

Between my teeth

And along my tongue

I taste the metal of your absence