The Scent of Pages

The scent of pages takes me back
To story time when, as a child,
I reveled in the sound of tales
Of lands far off and friends nearby.

The pages turn and years, they pass,
But even still my nose can tell
The difference in the newspaper
Or magazine, and books loved well.

The scent of pages takes me back
To brighter days and better times.
I catch it now and breathe a smile;
The pages sent an open mind!

Grace is hosting Tuesday Poetics at
where the challenge is to write about “scent”. Though I can’t read printed books, I’ve always been drawn to pages–stinky newspaper, slick magazines, old, well-worn books with cracked covers… I knew them all, both by touch and by scent. I still love paging through a book, not to read, but to take it in and remember there really is a world of possibilities right here!


Ouch! How the thorns of life impress their mark;
Impacting like a traitor in the dark!
A bleeding wound that never seems to heal;
With all the replays, blood cannot congeal.
Too overwhelmed, forgetful in the pain..;
Take heart! The roses always bloom again!

I’ve come to enjoy this, the Quadrille at
where Bj√∂rn is hosting, and today’s word is “rose”!

Earth Blessing

A blessing song for our Mother Earth and her many inhabitants. May we live in harmony here, and with all beings everywhere!

Instrument: Brio – Red Cedar Concert Ukulele

Earth we know
Earth we love
As below
So above.
Earth we take
Earth we give
We awake
As one to live!

1. May compassion be our guide,
Seeing all that you provide.
May our knowledge come to show
Wisdom as we change and grow.

2. May we give to you our best,
Loving kindness, peace, and rest.
Harmony is One in All,
Shaping land and waterfall.

3. God above and on the earth
Lives through every death and birth.
Planet of the Spirit, too,
May we handle you with Truth!

Summer Colonnade

A colonnade, oasis, place to rest
From Summer heat, a visitor obsessed.

It hasn’t been here long but plans to stay
Until the Autumn sighs with cooler days.

Awating temperature’s more temperate fall,
I make this colonnade my port of call!

This one follows Walter’s prompt at
inspired by this line from T.S. Eliot’s “The Waste Land”:
“With a shower of rain; we stopped in the colonnade (…)”

But a Summer Colonnade sounds like a dance to me! Or a refreshing drink!

Rain – Haibun

Happy Solstice and a brilliant full moon here in the Northern hemisphere tonight!

This poem does not fit the prompt. We’re supposed to pick a Japanese word for “rain”. But these words are very specific, and I don’t speak Japanese. I’ve always been warned not to use words I don’t truly understand. So, I cannot choose a Japanese word for “rain” as a title. No, I have enough trouble raining on me when I write haiku or haibun, not English forms of poetry, although Heaven knows we commandeer everything as our own sooner or later! All I can say, in my native tongue of not-the-Queen’s-English, is let the rains fall where they may, and here is the haiku that is unfit, unprompted, but not unappreciated!

Pouring, cursed, bless-ed
Four seasons, with more in life
Stirring rains of change

Written in a nonconformist way for

Father in this World

In my Father’s house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you.

Believest thou not that I am in the Father, and the Father in me? the words that I speak unto you I speak not of myself: but the Father that dwelleth in me, he doeth the works.
–John 14:2,10 (KJV)

Being a human father is never easy! As a woman I can’t pretend to understand a father’s feelings, trials, circumstances, responsibilities – just to name a few. But I know we have a Father, the one who created us and did not just drop us here to fend for ourselves, but who makes his home within each of us. My prayer is that every father on earth will turn to the Heavenly Father within for strength, wisdom, understanding, peace, and above all, love.

Happy Father’s Day!

Instrument: Brio – Red Cedar Concert Ukulele

There are many, many, many, many
Bodies in this world.
And each one is the image of
The Father’s love unfurled.
We may not realize it
Through the mind’s unending swirl.
But the Father makes His home
In everybody in this world.

1. If it were not so,
How could we live?
Without love to show,
What would we give?

2. If it were not so,
Christ couldn’t be.
Without love to show,
There’d be no you or me.

3. If it were not so,
He’d have no house.
Without love to show,
No mansions to give out.

So remember you’re a home
For the Father in this world.


Father of the Blues

Father Made Flesh

Your Father Knows

The Parenthood of God


There is power in ev-e-ry word,
Or at least, that is what I have heard.
But believe it or not,
Those who told me forgot!
And the speeches they preach are absurd!

Written for
though I’m not sure it qualifies. The meter is fun, like all
and a nice break from my usual, more serious meter and subjects!

Still Life

I am the sculpture;
I’ll come right out and tell you that.
Which one?
I can’t say, because you don’t really care.

I was stone before I became this statue.
I am still stone.
And I will be stone even thereafter,
If (Merciful heavens!) I am chiseled to bits.

I told you I am the sculpture,
But I lied.
Yes, I, too, can create a ruse!
How do you like that?
The same way you like it when people point at you
Or put you in their neatly labeled box
And say, “THIS is who you are!”

You are not THAT,
And I am not the statue alone.
Heck! I am not even stone!
I Am Life!

You don’t think so;
You don’t believe what I say.
But did you believe me then,
When I said I am the sculpture?

No matter.
You can have your opinions,
And beliefs!
These are problems I do not have-

But I am still Life!
I was before the stone was.
I was before the sculpture was.
I am now,
In the stone and the rendered statue.
And I will be
Long after the sculpture is no more,
Long after the stone has eroded.
I am there.

But lest you leave this conversation all freaked out on me,
Let me come right out and tell you that
You are Life, too!
Stoned or not,
Oops did I say stoned?
Ha ha even the stones have a sense of humor!

Anyway, no matter the state
In which you find yourself, Grasshopper,
You are Life!
So live on,
For you are sculpture and stone,
Artist and observer,
Creator and creation!

Now step lively,
Rock the boat,
And live Life with the Spirit that You Are!

Oh, before you go?
Tell that painting over there
That it is still life, too.


dVerse | Poetics – Chisel Me a Conversation.
I had fun writing this!


Smiles spilling all around,
Saturating driest ground,
Calming down with softest light
Every fiery word that bites;
Laying in a bed of peace
Where Hope blooms with gentle ease.
And in the morning glow of Dawn,
We look and find new smiles have grown!

Another for
with thanks to Grace for her inspiration!


Abundance does our soul enfold,
But we’re forgetful in this world.

Such hardened hearts and trials tough
Show Everything is not enough.

The countless Enemies to blame
Perpetuate a losing game.

If love spilled out like human greed,
The currency would not be “need!”

A Quadrille for
where 44 is the magic (i.e. required) number of words, and one word must be a form of “spill”!