Category Archives: Poetry

My Impressions of Doug Jones’ Win In Alabama


Doug Jones got the seat;

Roy was the one he beat.

Voters wanted none of Moore;

He didn’t make the coveted score.

The GOP has a machine;

They don’t cry and scream,

They accept voters’ decision;

Won with great precision.

But Moore, the cry baby,

No concede, not a maybe.

Accept your defeat, poor Roy;

You should be a good boy.

A win for our democracy,

Keep strong, guys; we’ll see.

We will look to the sky

And reach goals so high.

We’ll shout and scream with victory,

Due to the strength of you and me.


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Simile: Life’s Clock


I was going through some drawers today, trying to consolidate and get rid of whatever I really didn’t need.  I gain a certain satisfaction in doing this.  I don’t like clutter – even the clutter that is hidden from view.

Much to my surprise, I found an old poem of mine that I wrote when only 19.  While reading it, it made me realize how thoughtful and serious about life I was at that young age.  Second surprise.





One of the most worrisome

Questions of them all

Is:  Who dares to take from

That imperious clock on the wall,

Flagrantly, the right or the might,

If I may with permission add,

To capture the Seasons or Day’s light;

And finding none about this glad?

Now, as it comes to my bother,

I find that each and every

One of us, in one way or another,

For no reason or for every,

Is attempting the utilization

Of this time force

To find only sheer futilization

And, the agony of loss

In the repression of active mind:

Of full hopes; brave dreams; and pure souls.

So we sit:  we turn and wind;

Trying to perceive far-away goals.

Why does one to no avail

Conceive and plan without some cares

For we servants, who shall fail

Our future mark; cursed by he who dares?

Time is neither girl nor man:

At dawn, it’s naive and new;

At dusk, it’s a wizened broad hand,

Sweeping out remnants of a life we knew.

Life is to fate as fate is to life:

We are all of us destined to an end.

There is goodness and yes there is strife;

Whatever, the hands of the clock an eternity lend.

~ Carol Carlson

[image from bingdotcom]



The Liberals Are Coming! The Liberals Are Coming!

No apologies necessary for this poem, Josephurban. Good stuff!

The Old Liberal

A Poem. With apologies to…well…everyone.

The Liberals Are Coming

Listen My children and who shall hear

The whining and crying of those who fear

Who dread the idea of rights for gays

And dream of a past of more bigoted days.

“The liberals are coming” is what they say

“The liberals are coming to take rights away”

“Gay liberals are coming to marry our sons”

“The liberals are coming to confiscate guns”

They ride through the internet,  fearful and mad

And watch Fox and Friends (which really is sad)

They worry that folks colored black, brown and red

Might all vote for Dems, a day they all dread.

Lockstep behind pundits their minds go a sail-in

Listening to Rush, Ann Coulter and Palin

Worshiping at the great temple of Cruz

Fearful of Muslims, agnostics and Jews

They see immigrants taking all jobs that are fun

Like picking tomatoes in the…

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When I Must Leave You

Many years ago, when I lost my first husband, Danny, someone gave me a poem, thinking it would help, in some measure, to ease his passing.  It was a very thoughtful gesture; however, at the time, I couldn’t fully appreciate its power.

I do now.  Danny, it was twenty-two years ago today, when you passed into another dimension.  It is today, and every day hereafter, that I can appreciate the power of this poem.  It is as if you were speaking to me:

When I must leave you

For a little while–

Please do not grieve

And shed wild tears;

And hug your sorrow to you

Through the years.

But start out bravely

With a gallant smile;

And for my sake

And in my name

Live on and do

All things the same.

Feed not your loneliness

On empty days;

But fill each waking hour

In useful ways.

Reach out your hand

In comfort and in cheer

And I in turn will comfort you

And hold you near;

And never, never

Be afraid to die,

For I am waiting for you in the sky!



Robin Williams – “Seize the Day”

I was always a great fan of Robin Williams’; still am. This musical tribute is outstanding. And I am sharing it at a particular remembrance day for me personally. My Bob’s anniversary of his departure from the physical world is today; he was also a devoted fan of Robin Williams. This is for you, Bob, as it is also for me.

Thanks to “A Curious Mind” for making me aware of this beautiful video.

[Will You] Walk With Me?

A very special person, named Clarissa Shepherd, posts many knowledgeable, inspirational and supportive articles on social media about M.E.  She has M.E.  Myalgic Encephalomyelitis.  M.E. patients look to her for encouragement and for information about their shared chronic illness.  Clarissa is truly an inspiration to all; not only to sufferers of M.E.  I am honored to share her poetry with my followers:

holding hands

[Will you] walk with me?
First take my hand. We’ll talk as we go.

Let’s take the path less traveled. They’ll be few that we know.

Let’s try to remember, where we first began.
What were you doing? Where were you in your life?
What kind of person were you? I can see you as you go.

It started so innocent. Seemed only a short jaunt.
This new path that we’re on, seems as some kind of a taunt.

Look behind us. Friends are lagging as we travel.
They don’t seem to want to go with us.
We must stop working, end a career, halt our life as we go.

Do you feel afraid, unsure, confused?
We’re going down a winding road now. Hold my hand tightly.
Do you miss who you were? The road is a slippery slope for us now.
We must cling together as we go.

See over there. The doctors, tests, medications?
We’ll get to know this stop well. Do you need to rest?
We can stop and take it all in. Seems so unreal.
This can’t be where we should be.

There’s hardly anyone on this part of the trail.
We must move forward, somehow.
Together we can go on.

We’re learning, as we’re on this new journey.
We barely recognize who we were
and have forgotten where the path began.

I feel your grip stronger.
You’re learning to twist and turn with the path we’re on.
Finding your way through the weeds which have grown.
There are not many people we know with us now.
They stepped off the beaten path.

You seem to be growing, into your own, as we walk.
You understand more, feel more, care more, appreciate more.

What we’re leaving behind, doesn’t seem to be as important,
as what we see ahead of us.
How creative you’re becoming, in the way you’re learning to walk.
How courageous and compassionate you’ve become.
Who is this new you?

You’ve found so many things inside you,
that you never knew were there before.
Our road is still difficult, yet more passable now.
Can you see the clearing ahead?

I feel your grip lessen, as you learn to maneuver the winding trail.
Pain, sorrow, fear, anger, they’re falling away a bit now.
There’s a bench at the end of the path. Let’s sit a bit.

You’re not the same as you were. A bit worn, yet brave as well.
I feel a rebuilding of your spirit. It can be seen in your smile.

There are new faces looking at us. New people who understand.
I feel they’ll be important, for our future, as we find our way.

Although our journey is rocky, we’re following through.
This path less traveled by me and you.


A lovely poem about weeds in the garden.

Let it Go, Dr. Koh: The Truth Never Bothered You Anyway

Jeannette’s pure satire is poking a little fun at the government’s expense.  You certainly are a many-talented woman, Jeannette!  I like the idea of trying to get an M.E. patient or singing advocate to sing this song with your words.  Perfect!

Read the original post, in order to view and listen to the video.  Follow the words of Jeannette’s blog as the song is sung.

Thoughts About M.E.

After watching “Frozen” for the umpteenth time with our daughter, this line would not leave my head:

Let it Go, Dr. Koh: The Truth Never Bothered You Anyway

Of course, this is pure satire having a little fun at the government’s expense. So, here we go:

The cover-up’s on your desk tonight

No patient care to be seen

A kingdom of obfuscation

And it looks like you’re the king

IOM is howling like this swirling storm inside

Couldn’t keep it in, heaven knows you tried

Don’t let them in, don’t let them see

Hide the truth with your buddy Nancy Lee

Conceal, don’t feel, don’t let them know

Well, now we know

Let it go, Dr. Koh

Don’t hold it back anymore

Let it go, Dr. Koh

Turn away and slam the door

You don’t care

What the experts say

Let IOM rage on

The truth never bothered you anyway

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April is National Poetry Writing Month

I didn’t know about this until there was a News blog listed in my email inbox.  The longer I keep blogging and reading, the more I’m learning about all different “months,” holidays, and general goings-on in our nation and in the world.

If I keep learning at least one new thing each day of my life, when I finally die, it will be the passing of one of the smartest people in the world!!!  Ha.

“April is National Poetry Month. Established in 1996 by the Academy of American Poets, its purpose is to increase the attention paid to the art of poetry, to our poetic heritage, and to poetry books and magazines.” ~  Shel Silverstein

April is National Poetry Month

April is National Poetry Month  started blogging last year, and blogs for only the months of April and May, according to its schedule from last year.  It is a hugely encouraging blog, with great links, and I recommend taking a look if you are a poet or are thinking of starting; it offers great help with writing poetry.

Sheri Lucas Rowlands, in her blog, gives great hints as to how to make your poem more interesting, by placement of spaces, by indenting and outdenting (I never heard of that one, but it is so basic in the form used!), and other ideas.

I expect that more poetry might be used in blogging this month!  Guapo, your limericks and those of your commentors, gave this month of National Poetry Writing a great start!

Learn how to write your own limericks.

Learn how to write your own limericks.