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This post will be for my daughter–a few of the many poems I’ve written for or about her.
She’s coming to visit me this week, along with her youngest child who will be one in August, and is cruising the furniture at their home.  Maybe he will take his first steps here.

Talk about procrastination! This was to be posted before she arrived, and she’s been here several days

I thought about starting when she was small, but there were too many poems I wanted to post no matter how ruthless I tried to be.  So I decided to start with her graduation.

Tomorrow she graduates from high school.

In two months she’ll be eighteen.

She says it’s scary;

she doesn’t know
what will become of her.

I remember waiting for her to be born.

She kicked so hard I was certain

she was a boy, thought

no girl child would

mistreat her mother so.

She wasn’t anxious to push her way

out of the womb into that transition, either;

kept me waiting

almost two weeks

before she arrived.

That summer, I was full of my own nightmares

waking into prayers where the ending was woven as

a happy beginning

ten fingers, ten toes

a beautiful and luminous

welcome into her first morning.

Grown up, yet not and that led to the next two poems


I am both; two minds,

two sets of feelings

split down the middle.

Her plans are set:

she’s moving out;

on her own;

all grown up.

I bite my tongue

my lips, my cheek:

so many words

better left unsaid.

One mother is glad
she’s almost there;

ready for a test run

I’m really proud.

She’s leaving soon

as soon as she can:

next year, next month,

next week, tomorrow.

The other mother is hurt:

what’s her rush?

She has it good here,

doesn’t she?

And she’s not ready:

a list for worry

long as my arm

keeps me awake nights.

This mother argues

with the first mother

who says each time:

let her go with joy!

But how can I let her leave

when I am so unsure?

But how can I make her stay

and believe in herself?


that used to open

and shut with a bounce

now hang ajar to

listless empty rooms

blank walls stare

repeat echoes

the memory of voices

whisper down

hallways missing

her footsteps

brother is very


too good

no one to fight

with anymore

the dog pricks

its ears


for her car

in the drive

hears only 

a roar of silence

the cats walk

across her vacant bed

try to knead her

out of the mattress

but she’s gone

She wasn’t gone yet, but before long she was off on her own and married.  Next…

How is it you find yourself

preparing to bloom

burgeoning with buds beginning to swell

turning into a cabbage

lovely shades of green

becoming large, round,

hard with tightly packed leaves–

I will have to check the sky for bird sign

keep a record of the temperatures

see which way the wind is blowing.

I don’t know how this can be

happening so soon!

We are not some seedy little annual

and it doesn’t seem

the world has gone twirling around

all that long

since I plucked you, myself,

from under the rose petal

where you grew

to be the daughter

woven into the song of my heart.

…which naturally led to the birth of her first child.  (The idea of the mermaid came from her love of the movie The Little Mermaid.)

MERMAID DREAMS                                               
When I dreamed you,
you were a mermaid
dancing on your green tail;
hair the color
of sunken treasure spilled
from pirate chests
fanned the waves
every undulation
strewing decorations of shellfish
filigreed with fanciful stories
in opalescent shades.
What was that siren song
you used to call me?
I only remember you
appeared one night in my arms;
you were so tiny–everyone
inhabiting this world became
a sudden giant.
What was the spell you cast
so you became my center
and I was deaf
but for the soft surf of your breath,
the underwater tugging
of your heart beneath my fingers?
Now you dream
a new fragment of possibility
for yourself,
bring this beautiful figment
to fill your arms.


Words to start


I’ve heard that nobody reads poetry anymore.  Who has time? Who can understand the stuff that’s written today?  And besides, it doesn’t rhyme.  Yet there are a lot of people writing it, and I’m one of them.

Most of my poems are short.  Most of them are pretty obvious, and tend to be visual.  Alas, most of them don’t rhyme.  I’ve been fortunate to have a number of them published. However sending them out takes a good deal of time. I’d rather spend the time writing and revising. SO

I decided to do something to make more of my poems available to friends & family, (& ?).  A blog! My daughter can read it (and share it with her friends); my husband’s family can read about their big brother (uncle). Friends who have enjoyed my poetry in the past can catch up with what I’m writing now.

I chose this poem as a good one for giving a name to this blog where I intend to post several poems weekly.  This poem was written in 1993.


dribble down
the page
in a stream
of meaning
rock walls
will they
Where will
they sink
ferns abound

Here is the first poem I’ve written about the situation I’m going through now.


After late rains, the weather is beautiful;
so green in the golden sunlight
of a long Humboldt evening.

Later, you will reflect,
the bad news might have been worse.
Your husband is next to you.
All your children are safe
and accounted for.
Your grandchildren are driving
their mother crazy in Arizona
while she mutters:
Payback’s a bitch!

But when the phone rings,
you know the news is something
you don’t want to hear.
Even though you tried
to believe there was nothing
really wrong all those
weeks they spent looking,
testing for something else,
your heart squeezes tightly;

the sinking sensation
in your stomach says it’s the doctor
who tells you:
“I’m so sorry, there is a tumor.
it’s cancer.
At least you’re not surprised.


Whenever I’ve been part of a poetry reading, I always end with one I’ve written for my husband. So, finally, this one’s for Steve.


Through the day
your light muted
curls within skin

at night
it begins to leak
with the covers

pulled close over us
we slide
skin to skin

my eyes shut
I see the bright
of your being

dreams chase
me into another

while your light
sinks into my body
holding me
so tenderly

my path



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