the writing of poetry

I've been thinking about poetry again. Writing it, that is.

It's been a few months since I have had even a thought of a poem floating about. I guess haiku are real poems, so if we count those, I've written a very small few on Instagram. Yet I haven't had the heart to let my feelings flow enough to find paper and pen, so to speak, in quite some time. I want to write; however, I have led myself to believe it will hurt more somehow to allow poetry to speak of these things that wound me to the core. These things that are anything but poetic. Or maybe they are, only they aren't the happy sorts that tide you over in life.

I don't want to cause more harm to myself or others. I don't want to cry anymore.

These specific wants will never be fulfilled, of that I am certain, yet my hope is earnest, and I no longer wish to write of things that stab and sting and pinch at me like an allergic reaction choking me to death. I wonder how I will find my way to the place I want to be. Maybe this poetic silence is choking me. Maybe I need to write to witness the journey, the bridge that spans the gap, getting me where I belong.

I am not sure how or when, possibly tomorrow or next week or next month, but I want to write poetry again. I want to find words for my dreams—even if it hurts to hold onto them. 

snowman boosts morale!


I built a snowman in front of my house yesterday. It doesn't sound like such a big deal, but I have been sick for a long while, and I really didn't feel like going outside. You know what got me out there? Fahrenheit 451. 

That sounds nuts since snow and books have hardly anything in common except for snow making you want to stay INDOORS to read books. Am I right? So anyway. 

I had been thinking about Mildred and her walls and how similar that book is to today's society, so when my little guy asked if I would go outside with him to play in the snow, I felt almost compelled to go outside despite my tiredness. Human interaction with my family whom I love. Building snow bricks and snowmen and memories that are real. 

My son was going to build an igloo using my bread pans for snow brick makers. I think he made about ten bricks. My younger daughter helped some but had homework to finish. And then my oldest with autism helped pat extra snow onto the snowman to make sure he was well rounded. We had a great time and went to get a treat for family night with all of us, and ended the night with a lesson about building unity.

Getting well is the top priority, but that bit of play and time out just for us gave us all the boost that we needed. 




nothing could be something

The whole word of the year/one little word thing is escaping me this year. I spent time pondering what word might do, and you know what word came to mind? Nothing. Like, literally the word nothing

What am I supposed to do with that? Seriously. I do have some ideas floating around, but it is just so bizarre that no other words or goals have been nagging at me. I'd like to know what some of your ideas are about this whole nothing business. It might help me in my quest for the best word (or realizing nothing is the best).

So anyway. It is interesting that's for certain. I'll keep my mind open to other words while continuing to consider what nothing might accomplish for me this year. 

what's in a name?

I'll tell you what's in a name. Every hope that a young mother and father have for their tiny baby. The heritage of all the ancestors gone before. Identity. Opportunity. Labels. Shackles. Freedom. 

Names mean things. There are expectations and identity wrapped up in a name. 

And this week, I got back my Texan roots. I no longer will be mistaken for a different lineage or heritage than where I came from. I will be empowered to be myself entirely. 

I do not regret taking a married name, and I will do it again if I remarry, but I very much resent the way I couldn't get my name back when I should have been able to. 

Self-advocacy made it happen, and I am thankful that I have enough courage and education to know how to help myself on this. 

I have always been the same rose, but now it will be easier for others to identify where and with whom I belong, and I am thankful—even overjoyed. 

Poetry Top Ten 2016


Another year, another set of your favorite poems. It's a pleasure to keep writing for you and to see what everyone enjoys the most.

Over this past year, more of you have been reaching out to express your appreciation and thoughts about my poetry and writing in general, so I'd like to thank you for that. Your encouragement makes such a difference!

All my gratitude goes out to each person reading this…

The 2016 Poetry Top Ten:

1. More Than a Story

2. What I Need Today

3. Come

4. Inside

5. Always Golden

6. Knots

7. Pain

8. Without a Doubt

9. No Angel

10. Essential


Honorable Mention: Just Barely

my best

I'm doing the best I can. This is something that is true at any given moment.

There are factors that limit my ability to actually do well. Fatigue, emotional stress and distress, physical setbacks, so many things all affecting what my best looks like at any given moment. But no matter what, I am doing all I can.

And I still feel like I'm sinking. Or maybe it is just my heart sinking as I let all the rejection I have faced over the past while get under my skin.

I don't know. Everything has got to work out somehow. I strive with all I've got. That has to count for something. Somehow my best will be enough.