You are my home.
My comfort
my light
my safe place.
All else
merely a stopping point.
A resting place
on a finite map.
From the day
you and I
became we,
you became my forever.

Photo taken in La Jolla, CA on Wednesday.
You are my home.
My comfort
my light
my safe place.
All else
merely a stopping point.
A resting place
on a finite map.
From the day
you and I
became we,
you became my forever.

Photo taken in La Jolla, CA on Wednesday.
My girl, my girl, don’t lie to me.
Tell me, where did you sleep last night?
Beneath the willow tree?
Its branches so lithe, so low.
Its lance shaped, feather-veined leaves
brushing sensuously across your bloodied mouth?
They warned me:
if she floats then she is not
a witch like we had thought.
But your incandescent eyes beckoned me,
consumed my rationality.
And I learned, you are so much more.
Blackened sky, host to full moon.
I am bereft. Abandoned again.
Shrieking howls from God knows where,
scream the undeniable truth.
How much longer can I endure
these monthly night terrors?
My lust lit afire by your smooth body,
entwined with mine so often at evensong.
But this I fear, left once again.
I am slowly going insane
knowing you have never been,
nor will you ever be, all mine.

Written for Tuesday Poetics at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe.
Melissa is hosting and sharing information about the late singer, song-writer, Kurt Cobain. She asks us to consider several of his songs and use one or more lines from them, within a poem we post today. Image generated on Bing Create.
“My girl, my girl, don’t lie to me.
Tell me, where did you sleep last night?”
From Where Did You Sleep Last Night? / Songwriter: Huddie Ledbetter
“If she floats then she is not
A witch like we had thought.”
From Serve the Servants / Songwriter: Kurt Cobain
For many,
love is not about the you,
or the me.
About individual career goals,
rampant wild desire
or lustful lithe bodies.
Love is about the us.
About comfort, caring,
walking side by side
a bit slower now.
Contemplating treasured memories
with surely more to make.

Dance with me
through these elder years.
New rhythms. Calmer,
slower yet upbeat,
even when adagio.
In sync still,
thankful for every day.
Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today, Mish asks us to write a poem that has something to do with dance. Video taken on our last cruise by a passenger who saw us dancing. About to celebrate 54 years on February 7th with the love of my life – my dancing partner through so many years.
My kaleidoscope memories,
colorful because they feature you and me.
Time before you
sepia toned, indistinct.
Like a deeply embedded sliver
tender to the touch,
fear festers
as you sleep beside me.
I need
longer days
and many many more,
to continue being us.

Written for dVerse where today it’s Quadrille Monday. Kim is hosting and asks us to include the word “sliver” in our poem of exactly 44 words, sans title.
Image by Dmitri Posudin from Pixabay
Wind whipped branches stir my soul
caught in illumined path shed by moon.
Sunken alone, I battle with desire.
A single note of the lime tree sings,
rippled with ripeness, love’s nectar flows.
I shake my head on the crowded quay.
Thou willst convnce this dear virgin
through thine copious tears,
to publicly proclaim our love and joy.

Written for Thursday’s MTB at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe.
Today Bjorn asks us to use AI in the creation of a poem. PLEASE do real below to see how my poem was written, using Artifical Intelligence!
It used to be, teachers worried about students plagiarizing by copying materials from a library; then from materials gathered by Google; and now, enter AI platforms that produce entire papers/essays/poems.
I used this AI site in writing my post today: https://sites.research.google/versebyverse/
How this AI site works or how I think it works and how I used it!
1) You select 1 to 3 poets from a list they provide. They will be your muse. I chose only one: Amy Lowell.
2) You write your original first line to begin your poem, and enter it on the site. I wrote “Wind whipped branches stir my soul.”
3) You click on the blank line provided (called Verse 1) and the site generates about six lines in the style of the poet(s) you chose.
4) You can use one or some of these lines; or click refresh and you get another list of lines. You continue doing this until you’ve chosen enough lines for the length of poem you want and then click Poem Complete.
5) The site then gives you the poem “you’ve written” – your first original line followed by lines the site provided, in the style of the poet(s) you chose.
6) The site provides a lovely image of “your” formatted poem.
7) At the bottom it says “Composed by User. Inspired by Amy Lowell. Composed in Verse by Verse.”
Here is the “poem” with my first line, the AI site Verse by Verse “wrote” for me. (I refreshed a number of times to get these individual lines).
Wind whipped branches stir my soul
Caught from a slide while the moon shed,
Sunken alone her battle with its desire,
A single note of the lime tree sing,
Streak with ripeness, with the fruit
She shook her head, and on the crowded quay
Could force this Dear Virgin through thee tears.
Clotilde had been with love and joy.
Now you can look back at the poem I posted above and see the edits I made from the AI version.
NOTE: Amy Lowel (1874 – 1925) was an early champion of free verse. According to Wikipedia “Lowell was said to be lesbian, and in 1912 she and actress Ada Dwyer Russell were reputed to be lovers. Russell is reputed to be the subject of Lowell’s more erotic works, most notably the love poems contained in ‘Two Speak Together’, a subsection of Pictures of the Floating World.” Image is Amy Lowell.
“How do I love thee?
Let me count the ways.”
Valentine’s Day,
definitely the time
to answer that query.
One, two, three, four . . .
forty-seven, forty-eight,
fifty-three wedded years.
Seven dogs we called our friends,
two children, nurtured and loved,
five wonderful grands.
Strolling Singapore’s orchid gardens,
admiring Japan’s cherry blossoms,
walking atop the Great Wall.
Meandering beside Lake Michigan’s shores,
through London’s fog, Alaska’s snow,
Bryce’s hoodoos, Yosemite’s trails.
From Iowa to Sweden to Australia too.
Easiest answer to that question?
So many ways over so many years.





Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today, on Valentine’s Day, Sanaa is hosting and asks us to write “plainly” about love.
Photos top row, left to right: summer 1974, pregnant with Abbey, our first child; at the Great Wall outside of Beijing; in Japan enjoying the cherry blossoms. Bottom row: in an underground cave in Bermuda about 8 years ago; and finally, us here in San Diego just seven days ago, February 7th, celebrating our 53rd anniversary! Thankful for every day.
“How do I love thee? Let me count the ways” — from Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s Sonnet 43.
Life is candylicious with you.
My Hubba Bubba, my Mr. Goodbar.
My Swedish Fish, my Lifesaver.
My Starburst when darkness falls.
You bring a Bit O Honey
to every single moment we share.
Everyday with you is a Payday,
rich in laughter and love.

Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. Today Mish is hosting Quadrille Monday and asks us to use the word “candy” or a form of the word in our poem of exactly 44 words, sans title. Do you recognize the candy names in my poem? Hubba Bubba, Mr. Goodbar, Swedish Fish, Lifesavers, Starburst, Bit O Honey, and Payday. Had fun with this one! Photo is from this past June: me and my Hubba Bubba!
sipping chardonnay
cold, crisp, oak tinged mysteries
celebrating love
once more round the sun
older, wizened, holding hands
thankful every day
gathering blessings
from days past and those to come
sun still shines at dawn

Image from Pixabay.com
Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets, where today Punam asks us to consider wine or whiskey or any beverage, and somehow incorporate that beverage into our poem. Go here for a better explanation of the prompt.
To my readers: Since October 13th, I’ve been going through the “process” of cataract surgery. In the scheme of things, it is a piece of cake. However, I’ve found it difficult to read and work on the computer – hence my participation in dVerse has been limited and I’ve not responded to other posts as I usually do, or to comments on the poems I’ve sporadically posted. I am happy to say, I am coming out on the other side of this process – and the results of the surgery are, to me, miraculous. I see colors in their brightest hues. I see print on my computer that is clear and straight. I look out the window and the world is no longer blurry. I am without glasses for the first time since I was twelve years old and am now half-way through my septuagenarian years. I only wear inexpensive “cheaters”, otherwise known as readers when I want to read or write. All of this to say, age brings cataracts to almost everyone. It is one malady that can truly be reversed. One type of anti-aging procedure that really works. I don’t mind silver hair (a nicer way of saying gray) or wrinkles or crepey skin or the inability to do some of the physical things I used to do in my forties or sixties. But I did mind seeing a blurry world. And that is over! All this to say, I’m back to my writing and back to dVerse!
When the world is a blur
we reach out.
Grab a hand we trust
to steady ourselves.
In today’s world
the question becomes,
whose hand can we trust?
Must we ride a mad bull,
bucking twenty-four/seven
careening through disasters,
red flags hurled at us?
Deafening roars
blocking out the rational
in a cacophony of noise?
Some days I seek the easy chair,
slump contentedly, eyes closed,
listen to nothing, just breathe.
I know you are in the next room
ready to provide the steady hand.
You are the reminder,
there is good in this world.
