NaPoWriMo #12

I am no physicist
but I know about time
I know how it changes
how it bends
and folds
I know it’s not a constant
but races, then
stops and
pools at one’s feet
then scampers ahead
I know how it can deceive

What I don’t know
about time is
how to spend
it wisely

NaPoWriMo #5


is three gems
each one more precious
than the last
Spilled out of
a jeweler’s envelope
to be examined
Past Bertie is bright with surface sparkle
one might even call her gaudy
in an uncharitable moment.
Future Bertie is honed
concentrated to
a single, pure
Present Bertie
has been chiseled
polished and worn
to a clear bright
fire, yet
with substance
comfortable resting
in the palm of one’s hand

This comes from a dream I had last night. My Aunt Kathryn was talking about Bertie, and I wondered if she was a friend or distant relative or even a care-giver. (Aunt Kathryn is 88.) Then she pulled out a small envelope and shook out three largish diamonds, which were somehow the “Bertie” she was talking about.

Is the period on a line by itself too gimmicky? What do you think?

Autumnal Equinox – FF55


Light and shadows dance
through the ages
flashing, winking, spinning

And now the time begins
when shadows enfold the light
when we turn
to darker thoughts
with shorter days
and colder nights
when blossoms are spent
and fruits have ripened

The growing season is over
prepare your garden
prepare your soul
winter is on the way

This is for Joy, who has resurrected FF55 at Verse Escape.  Go there and see what it’s all about.  (Photo is by me.)


There is a time
closer to night than morning
when parties fall
into ruin
and the moon wearies

There is a time
when dreams are forgotten
and shades
lose their way 

There is a time
when the clock
gives up its hands
and the hours pool
on the ground
running to regret

This is my time

This is for my friend Joy’s FF55 revival at Verse Escape, even though it’s not Friday, and if you’re counting, there aren’t 55 words.


Photo by Mary Bach: Merchant Seafarers’ War Memorial (back side), Cardiff


Where are we?
Blinded and betrayed by time
Endless skies press down
with the weight of water
Sanded and salted
preserved, we thought
Like a pearl of great price
I am lamented but unfound
scattered, until my ribs
no longer know each other