(the cat)

Remembering Angel:

the cat --
my second
alarm clock

Between Catnaps

In memory of Angel:

Her silky, black paw
claimed a red circle
on the pillow
as if to begin
a silent, solo
game of Twister.

(cute:)

In remembrance of Angel:

cute:
a chirp from
my happy cat

My Girl

NOTE: My cat of 14 years, Angel, passed away on Friday.  The following poem is the first in a series I will run this week in her memory.

She knows how to be
cute.
She knows just the
right pose or look
to give me that will
send me into a
state of acute
appreciation --
the kind that seizes
me until I pet her velvet
coat.
She knows the cutest
ways to meow and
purr and stir her paws.

And she knows it.

She knows she's
cute.
And there's no way
I can help myself
from loving and
stroking and cooing
and thinking how
lucky I am to have
found her.

(After the funeral)

After the funeral
I searched my inbox
for any messages I still had from her.

(Live well and love well.)

Live well and love well.
For today is all we have,
so far as we can tell.

1 conversation at work = 2 haiku pieces

$50 bill

floating in the toilet bowl.

Who will free Billy?

~~~~~(These are waves.)~~~~~

$50 bill

in the loo.  Rear admiral

to the rescue!  Phew!

Which one floats your boat?

Haiku for a rainy day:

morning tea after
the morning rain
drop after drop

This week's holiday haiku:

the cardinal
sounding off
like the Fourth of July

with gratitude to Rebecca J. Davenport for a spectacular ending

Summertime Sandals

On this, the first day of summer, I give you:

Seasonal Criminals

There's something about
summertime sandals --

they're too much

to handle

when it comes to

the stench that

sweaty feet and

leather create.

My nostrils don't

celebrate or salivate about

the smell that emanates

from the partnership

that perpetrates

heinous crimes
against olfactory.

Soul Food

My latest piece for The Space Between, "Soul Food," was posted today, featuring my poem "If Melody Is Nourishment, Harmony Is Healing."  Eat up, y'all!

(Just like clockwork, her)

Just like clockwork, her
post-lunch sewage dump fills the
ladies' room with stench.

Thank You

Thanks to all of you who attended Women's Work this afternoon. Special thanks to Jessica, Joan, Liz, Melissa, Randy and Rebecca for your support!

You are invited!

I will be presenting some of my poetry this Mother's Day at Nashville's seventh annual Women's Work festival. Come and enjoy an afternoon of original poetry and spoken word presented by wonderful women wordsmiths!

Sunday, May 12th, at 2:30 p.m.
Z. Alexander Looby Theater
Looby Branch Library
2301 Rosa L. Parks Blvd.
Nashville, TN
$5

For more information or to purchase tickets in advance, please visit the Tennessee Women's Theater Project online.

(Business casual)

Business casual:
Yikes...that dude must have a thong
beneath his khakis.

Happy National Poetry Month: Exhibit D

My fourth and final Sunday poetry post during this year's National Poetry Month:

Why Bother With Poetry

Why bother
with poetry?
Because you're
human.  And,
from time to time,
we humans need
to be reminded of
what's important
in life,
an invitation
to laugh at ourselves,
a spotlight on
injustice in the world,
and permission
to pause, reflect and wonder.

Happy National Poetry Month: Exhibit C

The Reason I Write Poetry

I notice things --
everything.

Then I get

lost in thought

about them --

why they're done,

how often

and by whom --

sometimes

at the most

inopportune times --

during a meeting

with a co-worker,

my tax advisor

or the dentist.

And then I feel

the need to

capture my thoughts

on paper --

so I won't forget them.

And, on most days,

I have just enough

arrogance

to share what I've

put into writing

with someone else,

perhaps to validate

that I'm, in fact, alive.

Happy National Poetry Month: Exhibit B

This post is a bit belated, but no less delicious than it would have been on Sunday.  Enjoy, as we continue to celebrate National Poetry Month!

Matters of Intake

I have a friend who devours
poems like she devours
sumptuous chocolate cake --
with a feminine fortissimo,
speedily savoring each serving.

I, on the other hand,
experience poems like I
experience creme brulee or flan --
slowly, deliberately,
careful not to overdue it,
knowing that too much
of a good thing will ruin
the power of the moment.

I do not think either way
is superior -- only that one
approach is better for
that particular partaker.

Even now I am closing
a book of poetry,
instinctively knowing
when to say "when."

Women's Work 2013

I've been invited to present my poetry at the seventh annual Women's Work festival on May 12th. Stay tuned for more details!

Happy National Poetry Month: Exhibit A

During the month of April, I will be posting a poetry-related poem every Sunday, in celebration of National Poetry Month.  I hope you enjoy one (or all) of them!    

When I Read a Good Poem

When I read a good poem,
I hold
each
word
for a
moment
in my mouth
before
---- moving
on to the next one, like
one
bite
of creme brulee
after
another.