November 27, 2016


Hindsight and insight - go further and say, blindside
Tears shed as if we’d known, we reap what we have sown
Where will it get you storing hate, senseless fighting to hell’s gate
Turn around and look ahead, don’t look back to view the dead
Your past will grieve you, and your present will seal you
Look forward at life’s lessons, the future will fuel you

November 23, 2016


Photograph by Julie Shattuck

Amongst the windy blue, clouds float through shadowed sky
If you're there to catch the breeze, I'll wave hello, goodbye

Hear the music of the song birds, the buzzing of the bees
The lilting laughter, the twitter, in the rustle of the leaves

I love the rainbows up above, the heather on the hill
I love the song, the dance, the flowers by the rill  

Thank you all of nature, thank you one and all
I will walk, I will wait, I will listen for your call

November 20, 2016

Equal time?

Equal time...? For what, more denying and lying?
Trump is the master, with crocodile crying

He runs his mouth like tires on the street
Thread bear tread with every tweet
Crushing people with his mouth
Who’s he kidding, except himself
You pick your candidates and blow hot air
Kicking and screaming, life’s unfair
You live in slime, you can't sell to a preacher
Time is up, you swamp rat creature

November 17, 2016

Torn Fabric

Hallowed hills and windswept dunes, gone are the days of sunlit moons

Gone away and into the night, traded for darkness, eager to fight

The windswept dunes and hills of green, dry and dusty never to be seen

Gone are the seekers longing for peace, gone are the smiles, now angry and creased

Where do I find you with a sigh not a shout, where is the trust to be gathered about

Where can I find you through cries and a groan, just torn fabric waiting to be sewn

November 15, 2016

A Sign of The Times

A sigh exhaled
A sign of the times

Mist carries away
Mist...a maze of disoriented figures…

Gone are the days...into blue mist
Where will it lead, where will it carry, the times

Documents signed, sealed, filed...ending...
Signs of times, signs of change…

November 11, 2016

The World is a Muddle

Escaping the world in a muddle, in a puddle
I fell in
I stepped over and fell in, I walked around and tripped
And fell in
I jumped, staggered and started up again
And fell in
The muddle, the puddle, is slippery and dark
The puddle is a mudde, and it’s cold and stark

November 8, 2016

Rhythm of Dreams

March to the band
Step to the beat
Sway to the rhythm

Unclutch the stranglehold of midnight dreams
strike every chord of disenchantment
relentless, restless, reckless couplets

forbid counting sheep
hammer words deep
remove them to sleep

November 3, 2016

Marshmallow Fun!

Marshmallows, white, soft and mushy, pillows of sweetness
Marshmallows melting with heat to a sugary syrup, all to a gooey goodness
Marshmallows, drizzled over rice krispies, crunchy and malleable
Marshmallows formed, round, firm and delectable
Marshmallow balls are what drives a sugary crazed Halloween fright
Marshmallow sticks to your fingers on a fun frenzy night!

Tremors From the Deep

Photograph by Kathleen Sara Shattuck

Saltwater rushing ashore in depths beyond imagination
Traction takes and gathers speed, removing temptation
Jagged rocks splashed with power from the deep
Hell raises an arm, grinding sand in mounds, in heeps

Make haste, ocean rises in angry need to devour all around
Floods and crumbling structures, houses falling to the ground

A roar, a tremor, a lurch pulls the pounding surf
rushing, rumbling, foaming without mirth
Wave upon wave takes and swallows what lurks in its path
Don’t hesitate, don’t look back, run away from the aftermath

October 10, 2016


A lilting voice is heard,  lulled by a fragrant veil

sleep is feigned, over the eyes you cast your spell

Truth relinquished, replaced with self serving pride

Your words dulled, the once sparkle put aside

Misleading rhetoric, slips away into dusk

Night falls, leaving darkness without trust

Heaven on Earth

There you are, and here am I
shades of tawny reds flood the sky

From night to day, from early dusk
the air turns crimson then to rust

I’ll plead your good byes, and ask you to stay
don’t look back, and never fade away

Look to the sky, where clouds are in bloom
lost in the heavens, pink fills this room

Bright are the colors,  a glad soul pristine
always there, waiting to be seen

July 28, 2016

You Are The Wind

You are the Wind - I am the Wind - a Wind that picks you up by chance, a gust, to blow you around and settle you like dust…you twist, you skid,  you’re tossed on a ledge, a matter of degrees
then into the air you fly through the trees...calming, all but forgotten, you move and bend, to scuttle off, in hopes you hold true to the end…

Into the mist you fall
Teetering, you balance no more…
Lifting, a storm, a flash of light streaks through the rain, giving your all
Leaping, you wash the sky with a reverberating roar

An errant jet stream picks you up, clean and washed you settle to the ground
You move away, away...into the night and into the’re all around  

I am the daunting wind you feel but cannot see
abandoned, a tiny memory that takes you up and up
overhanging the center of gravity

A heavenly note only you can hear
your very being will sway, a beat only you can feel
until the end of time comes near

July 20, 2016

Color's Birth

Skies of blue, red, yellow
Primary colors mix

The tree leaf sprouts
God touches the surface

Changing through the seasons
Rainbows and sunsets

Light illuminates the air
Awakening tomorrows

July 12, 2016

I Hold a Candle

My voice of tribute to Black Lives Matter

I hold a candle in my hands, my rough, cracked and bleeding hands
A candle to light my way in the night, a candle to reflect hardships and tumbles
A candle to blind out all of the sorrows of twisting, turning, rock filled serpentine roads

Cold wax, hot flame, meet with violence to ward off the devil's most evil eyes
To see beyond the haunting, tempting, trusting; let musical notes come forth to sing
Scare away the dreams of night, the chill of darkness, the wet rain and frozen terrain

Young voices hear the tunes, hear and feel the heartbeat within your breasts
Stay vigilant, stay strong, stay united in song, let the rhythm strike up the band
Holding hands, shoulders and waist, keep the momentum pushing ever forward

A Willow Whispers

boughs hang low across the horizon
a whisper from a willow
the breath of a tree
a moment is free
not for show
don't let go
the bough bends
two hearts mend

June 25, 2016


Solitude of night
cloaks shroud living time of light
Standing in stillness

Shouting words, a thousand days held to my head like a loaded gun - what cost?
No minutes left and suddenly you’re into my fabric of time
Tears wash the hours into loss

Black is the color
Midnight black shield of armor
Vanishes to night

June 20, 2016

For you ~ My Flower

Walking along the edge of the stream leads to a special place of wild flowers, the most beautiful, the most fragrant flowering luster in lavender colors.

To behold a flower so special, belongs to anyone willing to hold them in their hands and take in the atmosphere of love.

Flowers and love feel like the perfect essence; the fragrance always emitting a specialness only love can behold.

The naked eye sees a stream flowing at a random pace, and a flower blooming in a haphazard way, but the eyes of love see the calm, the tranquil, the ever nurturing hand of God sheltering lovingly from the torrential rains, the cold snows, the winds and shadows of the clouds.

My flower was meant for you, someone who can see what love can do.

June 16, 2016

The Last Dance

For everyone...listen, learn, and most of all love.

My heart breaks in a million pieces at this theft; souls ripped away, the night of happiness stilled, no breath is left.
     A night of joy, of music and friendships all around; a night of dance and laughter, a beautiful sound. The onenote, a single note stopped us still; the sound of gunfire, the music stopped, the riotous terror, innocence, swallowing a bitter pill.
     My voice, his voice, her voice, the voices rang out in cries, shouts, the sobs of terror throughout. Seconds, minutes, hours pass, where is the help to come, to take us away; the help to stop the flow of blood, the horror, the cries? A terrifying darkness covers these eyes.
     Break away these guns from the hands of sickness, take them to their graveyards and destroy the iron grip they have on the insane. Break the bullets once, twice, a zillion times; destroy the ammunition which destroys lives.
     Listen to the voices of reason, listen to the voices of the living and now the dead. Don't stand still, don’t waste another minute, time runs out; don’t ignore the past, the present or the future; our lives and the lives of our children are precious, more precious than the hardened blue steel that represents selfishness, and ignorance to the truths of trust, caring, kindness and love.

May 29, 2016

Kim Michele Richardson's memoir, "The Unbreakable Child"

In reading Kim Michele Richardson's memoir, "The Unbreakable Child".

There are times when a story touches me at one, two, or three in the morning, darkness takes on a silence that echoes white noise in my ears, full of thoughts of the people, the characters and their stories, they make me write what I hear...  

Life, Love, and Forgiveness

Life is but a testing ground, a bleached quadrant of earth where souls gather and spew a heritage of worth and pain  
Love intervenes where hate dominates

Life lingers, life goes on, life, the hearth where fire mounts the hills before gravity can pull the warmth away from the soul  

Love carries the flame to the highest peak, and forgiveness takes the burden of truth and radiates

…..To Chapter #3 and already I’m touched beyond measure. My own memories are surfacing. I want to say I can't imagine Kim's struggles in telling her harrowing story, but I can, minutely, I can.

I sat in that deposition, I knew the cold sweat that permeates, the nausea...I felt the frustration, no words...the anger...the indignation...the disorientation, not knowing the way home...   

I see Kimmi, a little girl...A defenseless child. I was also that defenseless child….As I read on last night, my heart broke in a thousand pieces, a thousand years ago...rendering me to tears. I wept for that child of three, of four, of five, six, seven, eight, nine and ten….when will it come to an end?

I heard that voice, don’t cry...if you do, I’ll give you something to cry about...I heard those words, I felt the pain.  I stopped crying.  As an adult, I had to be taught, to learn all over again how to cry.  Six years in pills.  Depression was my nightmare, the monster that eats away at your soul.

The nun that beat Kim, Sister Charlie, I can anyone call themselves by name a representative of God? Or even the human race! This woman was so filled with hate...she was a psychological mess who belonged in an asylum of another nature! How in the world Kim survived in one piece…

...reading in the world Kim survived her abuse as a child at the hands of these Nuns and a rape by a Priest, physically or psychologically, I don't know.  

On the front of the book it reads, “A story about forgiving the unforgivable.”  

True stories are sometimes hard to write, I’ve tried and failed.  The courage it took Kim to write her story, and to relive each moment over and over in her mind and in front of strangers, takes a courage I don’t posses.

I praise her revelations of what transpired in this Catholic orphanage, one not even a scene from a horror story could depict.  I praise Kim for her loving and kind heart.  Even though I don’t know her on a personal level, I hear her voice, the inner child, the adult with the wisdom to carry on, to laugh, to change the world, to love, and most of all to have the courage to forgive.  I love her for who she is.

May 1, 2016

Homeward Bound

She slid over the gravel path, homeward bound, determined to hold her head high.  She made mistakes, but this time she feared the worse.

Fear. Her skin trembled, goosebumps covered her arms, she rubbed the fine downy hair smooth.  How could she be frightened of the night, it was the same in the light of day, wasn’t it?

She knew what was waiting for her, but a silly notion held her in disbelief, that nothing bad would happen from past mistakes.

The cold wind tore through the trees, a whistling, a vibration, reminiscent of trains coursing over tracks in the distance.

She pictured herself riding that train, escaping a true fate of certain death, yet certain death waited at the end of the line.  Always the end of the line, always waiting.

Homeward bound - no matter her fear, she calmed, she held her head high, mistakes catching the wind, hurtling them back from which they came.