Monthly Archives: May 2012




ashes to ashes
dust to dust
heart to heart
gather stone
cheek to cheek
blood and bone
tie a ribbon
back to back
end to end
touch my heart
feel my soul
make me new
growing old
fall in love
then fall out
make amends
turn about
bend my ear
twist my arm
make Love
do no harm







the train
he sat on the train
moving between cities
that all looked the same
next to him was a man in spectacles 
with a five o’clock shadow 
appearing long in the setting sun 
reading a plotting poison pen letter
as they passed over the miles
of neatly trimmed hedges
and buttoned-down backyards
lined with the well tended rose
and he wondered how long
it would take to reach the farm
and if elizabeth
was a good name for a cow
my poem for may play, at tspoetry




Then the angel showed me the river of the water of life, 
as clear as crystal,flowing from the throne of God and of
the Lamb down the middle of the great street of the city.
On each side of the river stood the tree of life, bearing
twelve crops of fruit, yielding its fruit every month.
And the leaves of the tree are for the healing of the nations. 
No longer will there be any curse. The throne of God and of
the Lamb will be in the city, and his servants will serve him. 
They will see his face, and his name will be on their foreheads. 
There will be no more night. They will not need the light of a
lamp or the light of the sun, for the Lord God will give them light. 
And they will reign for ever and ever.


i have always wanted a body to adorn me
i think that will bring to me love and acceptance
even my own
though i never thought i had beauty
i still desire
i compare my body and labels and trivialities 
my body is in the process of decay
now beyond denial
i detect life within
and perhaps
a Love resides there
some kind of beauty grows there
God is taking away dead layers
allowing new birth within
my soul is His
His garden
i know
the layers will go


i am a woman
past the sell-by date
no glances my way
it’s okay, i guess
i mean
it’s not like
i was ever all that


soft howling 
bloody lonesome
was the wind
around my head
quiet down
quiet down
my heart
will hear you
and i can’t go 
around moaning
like a school girl
in love
with the
notion of
warm breath
and first kisses

new studio


An idea came to me.  How about a studio on wheels?
Watercolour, acrylic, coloured pencils…here we go.
Yesterday, i went around in the traveling studio, and
thought it was pretty cool to be able to work near the
library and the post office for awhile.
Who knows where the studio will be next.
Maybe a park, along a country road, in another state…
The above photo was taken behind coffee cottage in down-town
newberg, looking south. You are looking at a car repair shop
and car lights going by.

the Gift



God has given me Love
through the Son
it is God
God continues
to give me Love
it is gift
it is
no money can buy 
and i 
can not sell
God’s Love, not mine
not what i love
not what i’m in-love with
not what i can make
not even what i can give
God fills me with this thing
that is
what God is
this force that is God
not what
the world thinks of
as love
i go to God and
fills my heart
and out of my heart
He flows
He is like the wind
that i can not see
i can only see
what He, 
His Love, 


We are born and immediately we communicate.
All throughout time people continue to think of new ways to do this.
Most people learn to speak sounds that their parents use, and then
learn to write characters that have been made to represent the sounds.
ways of
creating thought 
making a connection
At some point we made poetry…
I notice that small children love story that has rhythm.
Some of the earliest poetry is believed to have been orally recited or sung.
You probably wonder why i’m bothering to write about being born
and living and communication and poetry.  Well, it’s just this.  I am going
to tell you a story.  This story was told to me by my sister.
Now, my sister is sixty-one years old. And, no, she does not write poetry.
See, her husband left her, and her three sons married and moved away, 
and my parents, who lived near-by, on the same land, died within two
months of each other.  All this happing in a fairly short amount of time.
My sister was in her fifties at the time.
She still lives on the farm, which is in a very rural area of Wyoming.  She
found employment in three places.  One job is cleaning offices two times
a week in a town to the north.  And two other jobs; one job is overnight care
for those that reside at a 24-bed care center for the elderly, and the other job is
an assistant cook position at a head start center, both of these jobs are in a
town to the east of the farm.
That is part of her story.  Which brings us to another story.  There is a 
woman that lives in the care center who was born in November of 1920. 
That makes her 91 years old.  And she has recently taken to writing
poetry for the first time in her life.  Her name is Helen.
Recently a fire alarm went off in the middle of the night at the care
center.  Meaning that my sister had to get everyone up and out of
the building.  It wasn’t a fire drill, but, she also could not see any evidence
of fire.  But she did what she was supposed to do, and got them all out.
As she went to get Helen, she found that Helen was actually in her bathroom.  
My sister, in the process of getting Helen up and out, told Helen that this
experience would be good for a poem.
And so, for my sister, Helen wrote one…and here it is.
A Fire Drill
A fire alarm I didn’t hear
As I was sitting on the pot
A staff member rushed in
And ordered me to stop.
A difficult thing to do
My job I hadn’t finished.
I wish I had been through
My discomfort would have been diminished.
Caught with my pants down
Oh, what a trial
I could only frown
As she turned away to smile.
Luckily i wasn’t in the shower
Completely in the nude
That would have become
A very strange interlude!
She hurried me along
Quickly I was outside
With a deep breath I took
My embarrassment I did hide.
The fire drill was a success
Practices we must heed
In case of a fire
Prepared we will be!


Growing up in the world means getting closer to the world.  Taking on a shell.  Understanding how dangerous the world is.  
Replacing innocence and trust in people with something else.  Fitting-in becomes an intense desire, because we are born with
a need to be Loved to be accepted.
God wants us to grow up and grow close to Him.  Like a flower growing toward the sun.  Having faith is like the turing of
the earth to allow the sun’s rays to reach petals and leaves. The transformation is growth, in the way it was made to grow.