Known, Yet Unknown

Known, Yet Unknown

A friend you’ve never met
and you are the better for it.

Vision, with an eye for detail,
provides inspiration.

Vision, broad in perspective,
raises questions, brings understanding.

Vision regarding history
offer an interconnectedness.

Vision of the earliest moments
becomes a portal to the future.

And though still obscure,
as the final moment approaches,
a friend you’ll never meet
is willing to share it.

for Sue Vincent

Photo courtesy of Helen Jones

Branches Weary ~ nonet

Branches Weary

Broken shadows across the cracked ground
Season’s burden, branches weary
Tired shade already turning
As each day grows shorter
September arrives
A life well-lived

This nonet is my response to Poetics: 9 across for a count down,
the prompt from Laura at dVerse ~ Poets Pub, which is to write
a nonet starting with one of four given lines from poems about September.
The line I have chosen, “Broken shadows across the cracked ground,”
is from To the Light of September, by W. S. Merwin.

This Is the Life ~ limerick

This Is the Life

Locks shorn in my late twenties,
worn that way till I retired,
I thought about letting them grow,
knowing I wanted a ponytail
but not wanting to wash the dust
of loading docks and freight yards
out of it every night. Then came the day.

No work and all play, and my hair
was here to stay. But I wasn’t.
Behind the wheel of one more truck,
filled with what was left of my life,
I drove cross-country to be with she
who would, one day, be my wife.
Her fingers run through my hair,
and I know I have found happiness.

This is my response to Come and take a selfie! – the prompt from Sarah at dVerse ~ Poets Pub, which is to write a poem about ourselves. For a bonus, here’s a limerick:

There once was a scuba diver
Who worked hard as a truck driver
But then he retired
And now he’s inspired
His poetry is to die for *

* poetic license 😉

Photos: “”The Move” ~ 2012

Muddling Along ~ quadrille

Muddling Along

This course I follow, this path
that would have one ultimate destination,
one kept from me till my final day,
has had no direct route. It has gone
in circles, from here to there and sometimes
back, as I bumble my way through life.

This is my response to Quadrille #110: Shall we bum around a bit?, the prompt from De Jackson at dVerse Poets Pub, which is to use a form of the word bum in a 44-word poem, with no required meter or rhyme.

Image source:

Long Time Coming ~ prosery

Long Time Coming

When it is over, said, and done, it was a time and there was never enough of it. It’s a wonder that it lasted as long as it had when we were never able to truly communicate. Even when we started out, our needs were never the same, but neither of us understood there was never any way either of us would change the other.

We would never get any more from it than we had. Opposites may attract, but the simple truth is that time catches up, and we had to accept that the prospect of reward was long gone from our relationship. The one long-lasting reward, of course is our children. That can never be taken from us. But comfort and satisfaction from each other will never be ours, and it was time to recognize that.

It was time to move on.

This bit of flash fiction is my response to Prosery Monday: A Time, presented by Merril at dVerse ~ Poets Pub. With Prosery, the challenge is to write a piece of flash fiction with a 144-word limit. Included in the bit of prose is to be a complete line from a poem. My flash fiction also meets the additional challenge of hitting the 144-word mark, exactly.
.For this prompt, the line to be included is from “A Time,” by Allison Adelle Hedge Coke. (the complete poem can be found here)

“when it is over said and done
it was a time
               and there was never enough of it.”

                              – Allison Adell Hedge Coke

Image source: Anne & Saturnino Miranda from Pixabay (edited here)



Where is the sense in all this?
Nothing but circles, this particular circle,
and it’s growing old, fast.
It’s pretty hard to get into specifics
when there are so many specifics.
We all have problems, but it’s time
your problems were yours,
and not mine. Speaking of mine,
I ask myself, where is my head at?
When I wish my thoughts were elsewhere.


This is my response to MTB: Stream of Consciousness Writing, the prompt from Grace at dVerse ~ Poets Pub,which asks us to write a poem by emulating “the passage of thought through your mind without any inhibitions. For that reason, sentences become longer, less organized and more sporadic in style.” Sorry, but once I started it just flowed. Unfortunately, these is where my head was at. I wrote for five minutes, and this is what came out. Wonder what it looked like? See below. I suppose it could have been a prose poem, or simply a rant.

Image source:

Tangled with the Bramble ~ quadrille

Tangled with the Bramble

A parting gift
those final two years

Mother to son, time
together at the end

Devoted care,
a humble gift in return

Tangled with the bramble
of divorce slowly playing out

No sweeter gift to be found
in such a time of the bittersweet

This is my response to Quadrille #108: Among the Brambles
the prompt from Linda at dVersePoets Pub, which is to use the word bramble
in a 44-word poem, with no required meter or rhyme.