Sunday, August 30, 2020

Growing Pains

There is treasure all around
but you blacken and turn inward.

You are an ink blot
on an illuminated manuscript

a burning nettle
in a field of wildflowers

a sliver
in the pink pad of a finger

Let me help you pack
your blanket and suitcase.
You no longer belong
or want 
to be here. 


55 Words for Hedgewitch at Verse Escape.       

Everything Old is New Again

About 100 years ago (give or take a few decades; well, quite a few decades; well, in my defense I was told there would be no math) I started a blog on Blogger called Writing in the Bachs.  And in time I migrated over to Wordpress, where I wrote and took pictures at In Other Words. And I was relatively content there.  But they changed something that bothered me just enough that I decided to come back here and start over.  So here I am.

Sometimes Life is Like That

  My hair flaps in the wind like a fist-full of grey ribbons, as I stand on the ridge top pouring curses into the sky.   No one ...