445 days of writing this poetry blog today..   Can I just hollar out a big ol’ Yeowza.  For those of you that continue to follow me.  Thank you … There is some stuff that really’s not worthy of the read.   And for me the doing of this is an amazing practice and keeps me honing my skills and gathering for my book.  It will happen.


There’s no whine behind this happening

No, maybe I won’t or struggle to arrive

Here on these pages of morning life

to lay what ever needs saying down


The bubble of words pop random

streams across my sky as I grab

At the chance of how stray they

feel till pulled to sentences


Even then the word play shudders

for existence as feelings rise

hungry for a telling not yet known

a story that has its moment here


Like now in this grab bag of morning

sentences popping, giving themselves

in a tumble and wrestle for existence

hoping their now has at last come


Me, I don’t care.  I don’t care because

there is no worry that my ramble

will not give to thoughtful resonance

In the vast pronouncement of words


Being shared, filling the spaces of space

in the global free for all to speak

to tell a story worthy of telling

Some more thoughtful than others


I’m grabbing at word bubbles 

in random streams of consciousness

Stray words that have something to say

Feelings to share from the vast lonely


Laying them down here cause I can







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