Archive | May 2016


Three orange poppies

above our purple vinca

Memorial blooms



A plane falls into the Mediterranean Sea.

Sharks circle the newsroom thousands of miles distant.

“We have no news yet! Stay tuned for breaking news!”

Sharks circle  the wreckage,

about which we have yet to receive news;

around the luggage and the seats

and the stewards’ bright jackets,

the pilots’ electronics –

no longer humming, nor warning of imminent doom.

Sharks circle the debris for body parts,

which, of course, they will not show,

but which they will, of course, intimate, with appropriately soft voices,

“You cannot believe the heartbreaking photos!”

Here are the names and photos of the pilots, the crew,

the manifest, the grieving families,

turning anguished faces from the lenses.

Presidents speak of courage.

Parliaments call for  investigation.

Bits and pieces of lives, full or otherwise,  float into view,

then sink again into the waves with the plankton.

Still sharks circle.

“Don’t turn that station!  We are here for you

with all the breaking news on this international tragedy!

but for now, here is the  latest from the Cannes Film Festival,

and George Clooney’s wife’s fabulous rainbow dress!”



’tis a chilly day in the month of May

with clouds hung low and dreary…

the lack of sun, and long, grey days

make people down and weary.


on reading the Sunday paper

am reading the Sunday Denver Post editorial section… I have no idea what to think about the things I’m reading…”Universal basic income may be the next big thing” by Paula Dwyer, Bloomberg View, stating base income for all may be a solid solution. “Obama should be bold in Hiroshima” calling for the elimination of all US nuclear armament.

I remember no time when I didn’t believe that “if you don’t work, you don’t eat,” literally and figuratively.  I believe it to the depths of my soul. I believe if someone comes on hard times, hard work will get them out of it. If they become incapacitated, their previous hard work will come into consideration. I can’t imagine receiving money for doing nothing. It’s too foreign to me to even know how to think about it.

I grew up with a father who flew B-52s, carrying nuclear ordnance. Families gathered at the “Alert Shack” on base on Sundays to see our dads who lived there two weeks out of every month, always on alert for possible nuclear attack. I cannot imagine a country, a world not prepared for combating nuclear attacks. It is just too foreign to me…I cannot even fathom a serious discussion about it.

I recently took a college US history class covering 1865-present, with a text book presenting as fact revised versions of events that utterly astounded me. I was angry, then panicked because my fellow students, all younger with little to no experience with the events we were studying, accepted these revisions as fact. They accept that we are a nation of immigrants who remain victims of oppression, rather than seeing the strength, determination and success of our ancestors in overcoming oppression through hard work, community effort and financial success. How do you discuss overcoming oppression with people who, knowing their ancestors were oppressed, believe that they themselves are victims, too; who spend their days protesting, and hating, rather than continuing the climb out their victim holes, like their ancestors did; who expect wealthy and/or working people to pay enough taxes to the government to cover their needs.

Success is the best revenge! Hard work leads to success! Own your life, don’t bargain your freedom for a government handout! And don’t eliminate our defenses against evil and destruction by those who do not believe in personal freedoms.


“Bidden or not bidden, God is present” Carl Jung
“God helps those who help themselves” Benjamin Franklin
“Get up, take a shower, and do something” Mom

50 Word Story


Iggy, so called because of the spiked tuft of feathers shooting up between his eyes, twitched, tenuously stretching his wings wide from his sides. He blinked his bright eyes right, left; crouched above the down that lined the bottom of the nest, squeaked a salute to his mother, then leapt.


My sweet Lord!  that hill

awash with heavenly blue

soothes a heavy heart





When we were small our father read
The Brownies, Their Book,
just before we went to bed.
Tiny imps making great big trouble,
sneaking into rooms at night,
then leaving on the double
after swarming over tennis courts and houses quite grand,
knocking over pots of ink,
digging in the sand
…to be continued…
…to be continued…]
Palmer Cox wrote the brownie books in couplets with eight beats… so I have to start again with that cadence…