I was once
a saturated sponge
sitting and souring
in a stagnant pool.
You became
my healing grip
wringing and rinsing
out my rot.
The sun was
my cleansing cure
entreating and igniting
my flame.
I was once
a saturated sponge
sitting and souring
in a stagnant pool.
You became
my healing grip
wringing and rinsing
out my rot.
The sun was
my cleansing cure
entreating and igniting
my flame.
Am I enough?Is my torch(small, flickering, dim)enough to fightcongregating clouds?Will it lightmy unplanned path,fading hopeless,from deferred dreamsand freedom?Am I enough? Am I enough?Do I have strengthto stand against the tide,to replenish this arrid land,and allow all people be. Freedom callsfor our aid.Will I answer?Am I enough? Am I enough?Can I keep my spiritbright against encroaching…
Shortly after college,disillusioned,down,distraughtover the cold-hearteddisregardupper managementshowed for myeconomic and emotionalwell-being,I attemptedto take controlof my life.I starteda weblog.I researched,wrote,and publisheda websiteabout swimming.I publishedweeklyon Geocities,workinghour after hour,intentto builda communityof passionateswimmers.I failedspectacularly.A decadelater,I tried again—this time,we blogas an Examiner.Unfortunately,I was cluelessand couldn’tdrive trafficto my work.I failed.Again.ButIpersisted.Againandagain,I wroteabout communityand kindness,but the clicksnever clicked.And hereI ama few yearsin,as the otherKLM,penning…
The Drifter Chasing horizons across endless skies,I follow spirits flying high above twisting roads.Every sunset disguises misstepsAnd whispered sighs of slow surrender. The Seeker Probing mysteries hidden in oceans depths, I cast my futures with the fishers’ nets.My secrets hold tight in yesterday’s shadows,Obscuring light once sought, but lost. The Wanderer Traversing lands where mountains…
I have been envious of the idea of a she shed for a while. I’m a hermit, so I don’t need to get away from others, but I could use an out building in the back corner of my property for various reasons. I need a Me Shed.
I serve my dish, deboned, sliced, soaked in blends of citrusy sours and bitter herbs.
One poet’s journey writing about the ketogenic diet. Less about sticking to it. Fat Bomb My ketogenic trekbegan last week.I must cutcarbohydrates,calorie-packedprocessed sugars.Swap sweetsfor nuts,string cheesewhen belly complains.One week in,I’ve survived.Yet nowI stare at this bowl,creamy cold,smothered in caramel,hot fudgeand whipped topping.Dark chocolateis a heart-healthy cheatallowed in a ketogenic diet.Right?The sticky-sweet snack,a welcome breakfrom the…