Poetic Reflections: imperfect
Let me state unequivocally that if you were hoping to read something perfect, sorry, not gonna happen. I write to my own beat, an irregular rhythm that doesn’t follow rules . . .
Poetic Reflections: reverie
Have you ever dreamed while standing up? How about while standing down? And how do you know that you aren’t dreaming this very instant? You could just think you’re reading this.
Poetic Reflections: Nothing!
That is the answer. So what is the question? What’s on my mind? I think not. There is generally some absurd notion or other ping-ponging in my head . . .
Poetic Reflections: thoughtlessness
Have you ever had to walk around without a thought in your skull? How about an absent mind? It occurs to me. I can be a very thoughtless person.
Poetic Reflections: happy endings
Reality check: Life is not a fairytale in case you weren’t aware, and it isn’t always fair. Sometimes it ends badly. Sometimes it begins badly. Sometimes the middle goes from bad to worse.
Poetic Reflections: intricacies
Shivering at my desk from cold that cannot be warmed by four sweaters, one of which is pretty thick, I must compose a series of words that say a great deal . . .
Poetic Reflections: the years
Being an optimist (except when my paranoid paradoxic pessimistic side kicks in), I am starting this year determined to accomplish great things. That is generally how I start any year . . .
Poetic Reflections: yuleogy
What, it’s December already? Wasn’t it just Halloween? Oh yes, every day is Halloween in my head. I think I do recall something about Thanksgiving whizzing by, now that I mention it.
Poetic Reflections: tanks
I meant to write about “thanks”. And the opposite. How ungrateful we humans have been to Mother Earth. How uncivilized civilizations have been toward other civilizations. How backwards . . .
Poetic Reflections: gothic
Oh yes, I am treading there. Creeping down the woebegone highways and byways of gothic-style horror this Halloween. What could be more appropriate, methinks, than to honor that dark . . .
Poetic Reflections: the root of all fear
Fear is a dreadful topic. Even for an author who occasionally dips her pen in the inky genre pool of Horror and Suspense. And yet it seems almost kismet that I should delve headfirst . . .
Poetic Reflections: hatitude
Finally, a discussion on one of my favoritest topics: Hats! There are all types, as many as there are varieties of birds. But don’t quote me on that because I haven’t counted either.
Poetic Reflections: scrambled
I’m sure you must be wondering what I mean by the title up there. That’s what I’m trying to figure out. I’ll let you know once I do.
Poetic Reflections: unstructured
i waited all month for this column to zap me with a bolt of inspiration as they’re apt to do until i had nearly despaired with three days left in june . . .
Poetic Reflections: thirteen
So here I am, having been struck over the head by Inspiration (as well as encouraged by a fellow author and friend named Lynn Tolson), which suddenly compelled me to . . .
Poetic Reflections: treedom
This is my twelfth and final poetry column. I shall miss these monthly maunderings. But will my voice be missed? It seems I have developed such a small and furtive following . . .
Poetic Reflections: bewary very
So what is there to be very wary of? I’ll tell you. Come closer so I can whisper it: “Everything.” That’s right, you heard me. Everything! Not that I’m paranoid.
Poetic Reflections: m’friend
I’m writing this poem on the birthday of a friend. She knows who she is so I don’t have to pretend. It’s one of those things that you can’t say enough . . .
Poetic Reflections: trust
There are lighter topics I could choose, yet I find myself able only to speak from the heart. A heart that beats too loud, too strong, too fast at times.
Poetic Reflections: bon-mottery
I have managed to avoid most addictions along my journey, yet I must confess here and now that I am hopelessly — helplessly — haplessly (take your pick) passionate about words.
Poetic Reflections: preposterosities
The mood strikes to write in a peculiar manner. To speak of that which cannot be described except by the bizarrest-meaning terms. To stretch vernaculars like putty, craft the craftiest . . .
Poetic Reflections: hallowing
Did I spell it wrong, as in "Halloween"? Or "Hollowing", as to carve a pumpkin's snaggled grin? Let me rub my chin and contemplate. Nay, I think the word should be this way.
Poetic Reflections: the silent resonance of regret
Another month, another poem. When all is said and done, as I look back on my achievements — and lacks thereof; the list of unfinished goals — this column is one thing I will not regret.
Poetic Reflections: existentialism
Well, what about it? you might ask. I'm getting to that; hang onto your berets! Oh yes, I’m the poet. Hang onto your chins then . . . Philosophically, "Existentialism" relates to free will.
Poetic Reflections: punderances
Like the question about a tree falling in the forest, I wanted to see if I failed to post this monthly column whether it would be missed.