Confession may be good for the soul
but there are things I cannot tell you
secrets that might shatter your heart
atrocities that occurred a lifetime ago
opinions that are mine alone
things that today matter not in the least.
And besides: whose soul are we talking about here?
Yours
or mine?
Yours doesn’t need the pain
and mine needs only my own absolution.
And that, my love, I’m working on in my own sweet time.
Daily Prompt: Confess
the beat goes on
brass bands annihilating
her last nerve
spanking
spangling
glimmers of speech
raving encounters
ravenous beings
seeking light
and warmth
sticky honey
gooey oats
candy giraffes.
is it time to go yet?
stardust and pixies
Dark Shadows and Salem witch trials,
ethereal creatures on my mind.
strung-out childhood memories of
fireflies & Purple Passion
Life Saver books
(butterscotch, my favorite).
six girls in the back of Dad’s pickup truck
take me home country roads
sunlight stretching long and bright
unending summer days,
winter’s blast providing other joys:
snow forts, sledding, skating (always) on thin ice.
oh, to be the young girl I once was
with the opportunity to seek
the potential that hid itself from me
but knowable had I only thought to look for it
and to believe that I was enough.
When you step outside your comfort zone
that’s when you realize the world is calling you.
Take the call or no ~
the choice is yours to make.
Daily Prompt: Calling
rain and a northwesterly wind of near monsoon proportions rattling the windows
yet another addictive Netflix series to (happily) consume our evening hours
two heaping bowls of air-popped popcorn, with just enough salt & butter
colorful throws pulled up tight to ward off winter’s chill
the only source of light emanating from the big screen: The Crown, Narcos or Peaky Blinders.
i steal a peek across the room at my handsome husband, munching popcorn, his eyes intent on Pablo Escabar,
his beautiful profile nearly taking my breath away.
you ask me what is bliss? it is just this.
Daily Prompt: Bliss
you’ve been the shark
to my boundless optimism.
you’ve devoured and eviscerated
my trusting naivete.
a word of caution
toxic sister:
like lovely Candace
I am, at last, on to you.
The still nothingness
of sound and movement.
A quieting of the soul,
the peace of one’s heart,
the mind and body at rest.
As time races forward
our thoughts find pause
so we release them
onto blank pages
or empty canvas.
Silence, the conduit
releases our creativity
to unexplored worlds
that delight
inform
and shape us.
Ravenous footsteps
quick and light
dodging, weaving,
fakes to the left and right.
Cleats finding purchase
the shipment on track.
Chains a-rattlin’
closing the gap.
Six is within his grasp.
It’s hard work
being the person
I should be,
the better version
of myself.
Someone who is liked, admired,
perhaps even loved.
Because who would ever want
the person I really am?
popcorn and crunchy Cheetos
lay’s potato chips
milky way and Hershey bars
tootsie rolls
black licorice
hot tamales, too
have junk, will travel
A Sawyer's Daughter 
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