Category Archives: The Pen

Being Invisible

Three Word Wednesday CCI: Joke, Leverage, Remedy

you think that it’s a joke
but I don’t laugh I don’t
think any of it’s funny honey
you can give the reasons
every season ticking off the fingers one
by one you think it’s comedy and
I don’t have a remedy for you
the problem is too big and
you can’t see beyond your nose
I’m here I’m real
I feel that age is just a number
tied to outside
but inside leverage brains
and feelings eyes
that see the peeling
ceiling of your heart
it’s shallow you are missing
out and I won’t pout
I’ll close my eyes so I don’t see
you not seeing me

A View of Stars

Sunday Scribbling Prompt: View

you were small my all
pajamas yellow
soapy powder smell
blue quilt fence row
pattern you know
I stitched round
tiny mound
the middle of
your bed I said
wake up I want to show
it’s cold so wrap up in the
blanket in my arms come here
it’s late but wait the sky
is clear and bright the stars
tonight you see come out
and we will lie our
bodies down on our back
porch and wonder wish
we’ll make and take
for granted that it will
come true and you will
not remember but the view
I can’t forget I tucked it
in my heart the quilt
a part of sky and you
the stars your eyes
I wished you and
you came to be

Which Half Shows

Sunday Scribbling: Halfway

I’ve been on vacation and hoping to get back into the swing.  I missed you all!

in my heart of hearts
my inner parts my softer belly
under wonder
scrapes the rocks and
locks me out or
locks me in and sin and pain
and fear like rain
falls over me and
I can’t see but others can and
peel the layers leaving
raw and judge me so
I am left wanting
just cliche all tan
and gray and nothing special
nothing much a touch
can hurt the wounds have healed
and some have calloused
half still raw and all your
malice makes them bleed
and plants a seed
of doubt that creeps
up in the dark and stark
and bleak the colors run
and I am left to
pick up stitch up
fill up empty places
shadowed spaces
that’s the child the
grownup learns to hide
the marks but still I shake
and doubt and take the hits
the pits can be as sweet
as fruit I tell myself and pile them up
and hope that in the end
a tree will grow and you
will know that I
was here.

August 14

Writer’s Book of Days prompt: Write about the careless days

I recently purchased a book called “A Writers Book of Days” by Judy Reeves.  I have been following the book and posting the prompts here.  If you are looking for inspiration you are welcome to wander through and pick something out.  There is a prompt for each day of the year and in the book you find articles of encouragement and inspiration.  I highly recommend it.

August 8 Stealing Time

Writer’s Book of Days prompt: Write about something that was stolen

memories often link it
and shrink it
anticipation stretches it
catches it stopping it
waiting and hating the waiting
are hobbies you don’t want to choose
we lose it infuse it
with waste and haste
but a taste of sweet nothing
to do but be in the world
curled with a book or
just look at the sky
think on why we misuse
and abuse it once past
it is gone and you
can’t get it back get on track
like a thief we should sneak
away hide away
run away say that you will
I will too and we’ll steal
all that we need that
we want pay no heed
to the clock tick tick tock
it keeps running we’re
sunning ourselves on the rocks
and we won’t pay a price
or think twice though
the everyday world waits
and skates along fine
with no worry about where we
would hurry back
scurry back it’s still there
and our cares though
we dared we’re not scared
we confess no regrets
do the time take the time
make the time
hold it in hearts take in
filling and swelling
made bigger more room
for the rest now the
test flying colors
of blue, green and gold
flying by through the window
the glass keeps me in
but the air lets me out
throw it wide run outside
breath it in sigh it out
it’s our time we can shout
if we want or be quiet
and dream star filled nights
starlight ridge
builds a bridge between
friends
never ends


August 5 Meteor Shower

Writer’s Book of Days prompt: Write about a summer night….

mamas in the kitchen
with the radio low
the kids are in the bed
and the stars are on show

mama pops the top
on a cold one tonight
and dances in the kitchen
by the little stove light

now I’m in the bed
but the stars are out high
though I can’t see them
dancing in the sky

like insane fireflies
a million miles from here
a meteor shower
bringing heaven near

universe pulsing a
rock and roll beat
I’m a child sleeping
in the summer night heat

somewhere on the timeline
Mama dancin like a star
a light year in my memory
doesn’t seem that far