September 23, 2012 Mary’s Mixed Bag Prompt Neighborhood

Taos Mountain


My neighborhood is at the foot
Of Taos Mountain
Over time it has become
My home
The only home I know

A handful of
Spanish influence
Music and dance
Rice and beans
Spanish spoken
Knives flash

A handful of
Native influence
Chanting and drums
Ponys and sacred celebrations
Dark skin, hair and flashing eyes

A pinch of the Gringos
Loud, fat, disrespectful

A fine pot of stew
All mixed together
It’s not always easy
Is it any wonder

July 22, 2012 Sunday Whirl #66 and the Mag #127

Image from the internet.

Sunday Whirl #66

The Melancholy Painter

Swinging the loaded brush with abandon

Mixing the powdered colors

Rosy red

The blood on which she stands

Pale gold the accumulation of years

The pigment covers the plane

Stray drops spray

As she flings the paint

Erotically touching

The tips of green grass

The picture in her mind’s eye


Image from the internet.


The Mag #127

The Letter

The shadow of your dark image

Crosses before me

The message you have brought




You speak to me as only you can

I reach into the dark

Touch your extended fingers

Know you are there

Without fear

I continue the journey

Without map

Strain to see the “way”

Yet you have told me

You are with me

I am not alone

July 8, 2012 Sunday Whirl #64 and the Mag #125

Forgotten Moments
I fall to my knees
Examine the ground before me
Try to remember
The language written there
Breathe the air
Count the clouds

I am ignorant
I have forgotten
The meaning of traces
The earth rotates
Days, months, years
Pass without notice
I question the moment
Past, present
Or simply eternity

A drawer opens
A housewife’s collection revealed
Forgotten moments
Notes on crumpled paper – a phone number
Coins – a nickel, a dime, some pennies
A pencil with broken point
A recipe for pecan pie
Three Rubber bands
Bits of string
Tiny red ball
Some jacks

Odds and ends
Hurriedly put away
Over time forgotten
Days, months, years
Past, present
Or simply eternity

Subtracting all
The hopes and fears
A lemon rind of time
Past or present
Spurn responsibility
Add – subtract
Days, months, years
This moment is all there is

What is forgotten no longer stings


The Mag #125

A Memory Incomplete

All the way back in time

To the beginning of my story

We lived there on that small farm

It belonged to My Aunt Maggie

Strong, jolly, lovely crown of white hair

And My Uncle Fred

Small, wiry, couldn’t drink a coke “straight”

Together they harvested life

Lived it fully

One day they left the farm

I remember the last time

I saw them

Sitting on the sofa

What happened next

I do not know

They were such a big part

Of my young life

Then they were gone

Someone else lived on their farm

And we moved to town

Mother is gone now

I cannot ask her

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