The warrior

Dedicated to Sgt. William Stacey, a 23-year-old Marine who died in Afghanistan a few weeks ago. And to all the warriors we have lost and love.


William was a warrior.
So off to war he went,
as warriors often do.

He kissed his girl
and faced his fate,
in a far off place

full of warriors who
had kissed thier own
wives and mothers

faced their own fates,
fighting to protect
an idea that burned

as deep as their love
for the women who
would stare at some

far-off place as they
thought of the men
they loved, off at war,

hoping they would
come home to love
them once  more.

William was a warrior.
He died for this love.
As warriors often do.


Poetic Bloomings #42 - moral of the story

A long hold

His days were long.
Hers was too.

His was filled with
factory work, which
stuck to his face.

Hers was filled with
five children who
stuck to her legs.

Worried sighs drew
across his brow
as he sat at the dinner

table and whispered
to my mother about
bills and layoffs.

Worried eyes met
his as she held his
hands across the dinner

table and whispered
that everything would
be just fine.

Their talks were long.
But their kisses were too.



Poetic Bloomings - Prompt #38  (Hey, that's my line!)

Semper Fidelis

~For my Marine

To say goodbye will be so hard.
I'm not the type to disregard
a love that we've been moving toward
the span of both our lives.
So, I'll stand in the Navy yard
and wave with all the wives.


Poetic Bloomings -- In-Form Poet -- Rime Couée

Come fly with me

You came to me and stood by my side.
With the wind on our faces
we spread our arms wide like wings
and soared to the places we'd dreamed of.



Carry on Tuesday #139 - Come Fly with Me


I love this prompt. The words were famously sung by Frank Sinatra, but my take took me to a more Rumi-inspired place.

On the surface

this pristine prison of glass
is nothing more
than your imagination running scared


Poetic Bloomings #37

Bubbling up

This welling up within me
is ready to
spill forth from the depths

a bubbling, bumbling, ungraceful love
that simply can't
be held down any longer


Poetic Bloomings #37

Dig in

If you look hard enough
you can often
find things that aren't there.


November PAD #19 - suspicious minds

Whenever we walk

through San Francisco streets
or bump and bumble
down Chinatown allies,

my inability
to walk a straight line
becomes ever so clear.

I trip over my own
feet or zig-zag down
the sidewalk pushing you

into parking meters
and piles of poop.
Thanks for standing by me.


November PAD #21 - whenever (blank)

Your mom's an Asian fruit

We giggle in grocery aisles
bantering back and forth like
14-year-old boys.

Durian, dates and double entendres
are our weapons of choice --
lobbed at each other

like melons, clumsy and graceless
and exploding awkwardly on impact
. . . that's what she said.


November PAD #22 - fruit

Kerouac Alley

On the road
through San Francisco
I think of
Jack and Neal
and the adventures
we choose for
our own lives
and those we
share them with.


November PAD #23 - travel