Poetry ~ Impulsive

a minor slight
fueled her

when her
emotions flared,
she wrote

a word …
maybe two

a monologue
detailing the
ridiculous nature
of  the human condition

she  was guilty
of impulsive behavior,

she reckoned,
as most reasonable
people do,
that was different

she saw the
in her own words

she had

was key,
she preached


no amount
of enlightenment
or self-awareness
was remedy
for her condition:

she was
after all,


Poetry ~ Life in the Clouds (Friday Funnies)

Suddenly, my life is cloudy –
literally floating in the clouds.
I’ve lost count of how many
clouds there are in my virtual sky.
And now I’m at the mercy of virtual A.I.

Me: “Alexa, what happens when it rains?”

Alexa: “It pours” (unprompted laughter)

I fear a storm is coming.

Postscript: Alexa has been banished to the garage for unprompted laugher and commentary!

Poetry ~ Lost? Find Me …

Years after her
they reminisced …

it never took much
to change her
but heaven and earth
change her ways

her emotions
blew with the wind

a cold front
brought icy stares
folded arms

a heat wave
provoked intense glares
and a rebellious smirk

her thoughts,
on the other hand,
switched frequencies
as easily as a radio dial

if she was dialed 
into you
the electricity
was palatable

when her thoughts
she was lost
to another world,
another dimension

the day she
they found a note

her last words,

“I may be in this world,
but I am not of this world
and neither are you.
Find me and be free.”

Poetry ~ Blurred

I am unable to focus.

It surrounds me,
chasing me from behind.
I plot its path forward.

Over analyzing,
I change direction,
but I’m unable
to elude it.


It is everywhere
and nowhere.
Constant yet elusive.

I obsess over it.
It ignores me.

We have
an intimate

It is with
blurred vision
that I seek
and remain
the mysteries
of time.

“We blur the world to focus on it and blind ourselves to see.”
~ Carlo Rovelli, Physicist, on the nature of time

Poetry ~ Ordinary Things

I found myself reminiscing
of ordinary things

Huge puffballs
scattered among  wildflowers
memories of childhood wishes
such an ordinary thing
once upon a time

A thank you note
arrived by post
written  in cursive
such an ordinary thing
once upon a time

An old red farm truck
rumbled up the dirt road
the farmer shifting gears
raised his hand in recognition
such an ordinary thing
once upon a time

Hikes in the Cascade mountains
stunning views of Mt. Rainier
such an ordinary thing
once upon a time

The old haybarn
now in disrepair
echoes of the first harvest
such an ordinary thing,
once upon a time

I find joy
in those ordinary things

Upon reflection,
the most ordinary things
become extraordinary things

A Serious Case of “blah, blah, blah”

See that smile? That’s my “Goldilocks” smile, somewhere between, oh really? and whatever! I’m having a moment.

I have 57 poems in my  WordPress draft folder. Not one of them is fit for publication! And no amount of tweaking or sprinkling them with fairy dust seems to help!

If you know me, you know I suffer from “SOS” (shiny object syndrome). My mind is rarely at rest and although I find inspiration everywhere – literally in everything – it’s exhausting! Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful, but I need a mindfulness intervention.

Deep sigh.

Or maybe a bourbon on the rocks!

I think I’m gonna take some time off from my blog and focus on other shiny objects, like spending some time outside in the sun. Everything seems to glitter in the summer sun (see that right there? That would be a good opening line for a poem!)

I’ll be back after a bit. I’m gonna go sit out in the summer sun and see what glitters.
Hugs ~ Sue

Poetry ~ The Plucky Poet (Friday Funnies)

She jumped right in with ink and pen

plucking her words off the winds!

But then,

in a moment of doubt,

she tore her words

and began to pout.


she asked the universe for advice

about weaving words, to amuse and entice.

A thunderous response came from above.

“Don’t change a thing, darling.

Repeat that out loud!

Create what you love

and find your crowd!

Stay curious, be courageous,

and play with the words.

You’re not a sheep,

don’t follow the herd!”

Poetry ~ Disturbed Things (true story)

She couldn’t quite shake it
that sense
that things were
out of place …


another dead bird
on the deck

strange depressions
in the meadow grass

shadows crossing the
field of a moonlit night

unfamiliar animal tracks
on the road near the house

the growl of her dog
when there was nothing in sight

anxious days
led to sleepless nights

allowing irrational fears
to creep inside her mind

perplexed, she packed her bags
leaving the
disturbed things