Greeting the day

with a heart

filled with gratitude.

Love inspires me.

Sharing this view

is the world.

Inspired by the hospitality shown by my brother and his beloved family.


For The World To See

For Polly

At the crossroads, I strain for a better view

on this cloudy hilltop, as if time

were linear and we could simply progress

toward some gourmand meal, the magical

result of every unknowing step revealed

— all the piecemeal duties of the sous chef

actually meaningful and necessary–ta-da!

in the big reveal.  Under the guise

of wise grandmother, here I am

with all my fragmented parts and this

torturous winter still pulling me down

into wretched isolation and bone-deep

cold.  Yesterday my friend, tired from a

trying week, sat down with me to ask

all the important questions true love

requires a heart to ponder.

Then through the terror and tears,

the neon-bright beckoning to denial,

the slow and painful

opening to a new perspective,

she simply held my hand.

My base shifted to include

more aspects of reality,

dropping the false narratives

that simply had no place

in this practical space she held.

And I wish for everyone such a

friend, unstinting generosity,

putting aside her own torments

to show me a brand new possibility

when I can step with love

through the false boundaries of time.


(A stream of consciousness Saturday post meaning no editing (typos can be fixed), and minimal planning on what you’re going to write.  Only “strain” is part of that prompt, the other words just jumped on the bandwagon!)

Written for Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt: strain, guise, base, gourmand and cloudy.

Under The Tundra

I strain toward the present

moment, tiptoeing across

frozen river

memories instrumental in

splintering me

thousands of sharp pieces

held together in a purely

illusionary woman

you see before you.

Be gentle with your grandmother,

I urge this boisterous

little boy, who knows my heart-

child is always

eager to play

out the stuck places.

We wriggle and jump.

Down dog to find missing pieces.

He nestles into my safe

lap for stories

and we learn

we only reach now

together, holding space

that includes prior pains

we can rewrite

when we go back

to the beginning

with strong new love.


Inspired by:  Memories, Instrumental, River and Splinter.

Tortured by Love

Love the great teacher
sweeps me into the river
and I must let go.

I sit in spacious
meditation poetry
silent finger count

Poor man imprisoned
Rich man suffers headline shame
Poverty’s the crime

Soul light illumines
darkest shadows cast off for
childhood survival.

He says, Bibi, sit
so I drop my to-do list
to learn about love.

Today’s OctPoWriMo prompt – Day 11 – is to write a senryu about tortured in love.   But the sweet torture that love offers me calls for five senryu to celebrate: the necessary surrender, the difficulty of sitting in meditation, social injustice, shadow work, and the teachings of my toddler grandson.