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An existential exploration into the indeterminate nature of every romance; acknowledging Lust versus Reality will usually play out before, during and after love has its day.

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unsettling

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Discovering inner peace continues to elude the best of intentions.

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Another simple poem that says a lot. Wrote it long ago and thought I'd share it.

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Yesterday was one of those days that nature blended elements. I was simply sitting outside on the porch and observing.. perhaps hoping for some inspiration? This is what I witnessed and hope I captured in a respectful way. It is Haiku formatting as felt it lent itself well to it. Also lets me off the hook a bit? :D Ain't the poet in town when it comes to technicalities.. Any and all comments welcome .. I take them to heart.. I ponder on them as here to learn.

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– Screaming is not pleasant, yet we all have screeching inner voices never quieted, only managed…by the fortunate ones. We can only imagine the screams to come in China as their 250 million-transfer of rural peasants into town and cities to be built in the next dozen years takes form. (See-- www.nytimes.com/2013/06/16/world/asia/chinas-great-uprooting-moving-250-million-into-cities.) And we were upset with Foxconn. Not even the tip of the iceberg in what’s coming in human rights violations.

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Okay, so I'm in a rant mood. (Whatta you s'posed to do with Santana wailin') For those with mixed feeling for this day, there’re two kinds of Father’s Day: the one that tries to celebrate, well, Fatherdom. Then there’s the other: please no more phone calls and emails. You really haven’t got a clue who I am. (This goes for so many Mothers too, on their day)

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Oh, I know this title will get some looks. But I'm talking about a different type of intercourse here - one that's even more fulfilling than what may first comes to mind.

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. . . whatever his name...

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As fathers, it’s difficult to not “father” our children. And then there are the exceptions, another breed of parent, providing discovery rather than command. I was fortunate to the have the latter.

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Communing with nature Take a seat and observe.

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This poem deals with my current life and how I feel when I look back on my childhood, which while far from perfect, was far more beautiful and happy than my life is now. Even though I'm more stable than I was two or three years ago I still look back longingly on the old world of childhood.

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Haiku ... little lesson for those who don't understand the form. English form. !st line 5 syllables 2nd line seven 3rd line five Can be more than one verse. About nature or human nature. Wonderful form of poetry as the discipline can be so helpful for writing other poetry forms. I live in Western Washington State and we have many 'cloudy' days. The sun also visits and often. But the last three days? Mornings have been so overcast and weather has such an impact on me. I use it to write. Any and all comments suggestions etc always appreciated. New to writing poetry or struggling with it? Try this form?

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This is a brief poem about doing away with the constraints that keep us from truly living free. Sure, some of the road may hurt beneath one's feet, but it sure is worth it, don't you think?

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A mother's view of bygone days lost forever since her child has grown up and moved away, yet his essence is ever present in every corner of the room.

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No one person can speak for all fathers, or all children, but there is something universally shared by this value we attempt to define as trust. Regardless of gender (or object as vessel, abstractly expressed in my Window Teacher) willingness to allow trust to flourish is becoming a more and more hesitant position, given our growing dysfunctional society today.

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IF you have read/reviewed this.. pass it up.. :D It is one I repost on Father's day.. I have no new piece to post for Father's day and it is not a day I celebrate. BUT.. I know fathers who do deserve appreciation and recognition for all they do. It is sometimes in the 'trying' that truly counts. This is about my son Erik who over the past two years has struggled through almost dying from a climbing accident, gone through divorce/ job loss etc and is on a path of renewal. It is a simple piece about a father who cannot give his son very much. Out of work etc.. But he realizes he can give his son the knowledge he is loved.

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All comments welcome. Honest opinion appreciated.

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For Erika. Comments/critique appreciated.

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Although this work is based only my memories observing the plight of a ‘60s’ inner-city education, those unfortunate people had their lives riddled with obstacles, some of which continue today, especially with the number of frustrated undocumented immigrants flooding our urban areas. Even with immigration reform, most of what is bleak in this piece will remain so. That is just how history seems to repeat itself in the cities.

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Another magical, fanciful one, I know. Must mean something, subconsciously, don't you think? A little escapism? Sure. I cannot lie.

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Not to be mistaken for some 'feel sorry' piece but as someone who can write down feelings far better than she can share them and believes this is true of many. I am still struggling to find my 'own voice' in writing. As far as formatting, what I hold dear, etc etc while still enjoying my love for nature. Any and all feedback. I am here to learn. To refine what I have written.. pick a few and take the plunge of submitting a few. Anyone who feels I have a poem here or there that is truly worthwhile? Please let me know which ones?

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In the spirit of some current postings, I've decided to chime in.

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It is arguable, no matter how many friends, family et al we have, the ultimate solace will be provided by ourselves.

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Here's a very short and simple poem about my Memere (grandmother). Growing up, I felt safe and secure whenever I was with her--my safe haven.

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Any feedback desired.

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We take for granted so many privileges. Here’s some attempted levity on one easy to overlook.

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dealing with the ever changing body here. Curious if it holds your interest. any other comments are also appreciated. thanks in advance

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... so many questions

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I believe selfishness can follow us beyond the grave.

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– It is easy to forget sometimes how synergistic everything is at one time or another. Personification helps.

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This poem was also written years ago. I wasn't going to post it at first because I thought the short lines were a no-no. (I did it this way so it would be read slow.) Then, this weekend, I read a poem with similar short lines - WHAT TO REMEMBER WHEN WAKING by David Whyte, so I thought what the heck--why not post it? Any help or suggestions would be appreciated, though. Thx. Cathy

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They come in all shapes and packages...

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This poem is (as usual) a work in progress. I never had any children and I think for me that this was the right choice for me. But this poem explores the mothers I may have been.

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Wrote this after my mother died when I was packing all of her stuff away. Could use some help with the punctuation on this. Thanks!

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A little of Rachel Portman’s “Benny and Joon” goes a long way in waking up this often jaundiced and wacky mind. Indulge me in a little spoonerism.

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The mirror should not be viewed for anything beyond what it is designed to convey.

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Some of us are forever caught up in the why of our being.

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Do they really want to deal with the past...?

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I am home.

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I've been away for quite some time. Thought my muse had died. Maybe I was wrong.

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Past meets Present . . .

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As Plato’s “Allegory of the Cave” purports, it is hard at times to hold people accountable when in actuality they choose to not know any better.

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Here's another poem I wrote years ago. The poem kind of shares what I want to say here. Wondering if you've also looked at houses this way.

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Word exercise. Does the theme remain consistent? Possibility of more inspired images?

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Needing to give myself a lighter moment, I perused my parent's scrapbooks, finding bittersweet reminders of stories once told that longed to be reminisced.

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Chaiku

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