To the Nth degree

I’ll tell you a tale

(I promise it will be brief)

about the degree of  othingess

that plagues my etity.

ightly it visits  i  various stregths

holdig me captive to its predictable restraits

ad should I have ay reservatios,

it would succumb me to self preservatio.

But, alas, here am I

a dugeoess, tedig my shackles like sheep

coutig dow the alphabet for lack of restful sleep.

The fathoms of dreams, escapig my gills,

my blak mid like a sieve that spills air

o the pages of isipid depravity

suspeded i vagrat gravity.

Gratig vacatio of thought,

stagatio of cogitio,

ihibitio, deluxe, how it sucks

at the teat of this futile icarceratio.

Ad should I get through this ihil state

with wits itact,

I might have a poem to redact

with the kik of the Nth degree

Published in: on February 14, 2010 at 11:51 pm  Leave a Comment  
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In everything I am or do
I am monochromatic.
In things I think and simple tasks
There is a need to make a theme
In single color,
I nightly dream
a single voice in the cacophony
of screams
single digit mathematics
As a mother I should have
the knack
to decorate my hectic life
in plaid
and coordinate the many tasks
with ease
but exclusively I focus most
on the distinct hue
that needs a host
the holistic completeness
captivates me.
Published in: on February 6, 2010 at 3:47 am  Comments (7)  
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libation, vivation, celebration, consummation

 13 Years of Grand Bliss!

I guess we’re a little dab of quirky quaint as a couple.

Lucky 13 was a monumental day for us. I had lost the diamond from my ring earlier this year. Because we’re both sentimental softies, it was quite a blow. I went without my ring for several months waiting for the time, money and gumption to get it fixed. My grandma came through with the lonely diamond earring, saying I should have it since the other was lost. It was the exact right size. The setting belonged to my husband’s mother. Now that is has been set and repaired, I have a wonderful blended family heirloom to prove my fidelity. I did not tell him she had given me the diamond, or that I took it to get fixed. We went to about the swankiest restaurant in our area, ordered whatever we wanted, lobster, wine, dessert wine, you name it. We really maxed it out! I gave him the ring and had him put it back on for me. Finally, I feel complete again! We danced, laughed, played bocce… It was like falling in love again for the first time! I love that man, and if God has any mercy, he will allow us a lifetime together.


Published in: on August 23, 2009 at 12:43 pm  Comments (3)  
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Pencil Fanged


There is something about clenching a writing tool in my mouth that makes me a more pensive and hurriedly productive writer. There is something about perching a writing tool atop my ear that makes me feel like a sloppy, stressed-out journalist. There is something about putting a writing tool in my hair that makes me all business and no play, but that pencil is well within reach and able to be removed in a hurry. There is something about lacking a writing tool that makes me feel vulnerable.

Published in: on March 13, 2009 at 5:34 pm  Comments (11)  
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Bad news day



When I close my eyes, the curtains start to rise, and Mr. Skeleton comes dancin’ to my dreams. And when I wake at dawn, the dream lingers on, and vainly for better days I pray.

Published in: on January 10, 2009 at 9:39 pm  Comments (4)  
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He was a good man… until she came along.

There is a song about a man who wanted to wed a beautiful woman, and keep his purity intact until their wedding night. She convinced him otherwise, and it tormented his now hell-bound soul. To rectify what she took from him, he offed her.

There's this song about a man who wanted to wed this beautiful girl while still in his purity. She convinced him otherwise and it tormented his now damned soul. So he offed her.

Published in: on October 29, 2008 at 8:39 am  Leave a Comment  
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