Words of the Wise,
Scribblings of the Tormented

• The House.There is a house in New Orleans/Before the rising sun . . . sorry. Got carried away. That house has nothing to do with this one. But what does? Comments and interpretations welcome.
• Justice. Here's a short, disturbing stab at a revised Justice. An older version is also at Sunshine Street Sketches (although there's nothing sunny about it . . .). Be forewarned—it's not graphic, but it's not a happy romp in the park. I've sent this to some magazines and journals for consideration. Wish me well and feel free to comment.
• The Ghosts in the Closet. I started this in 2004 and just keep adding. Updated 25 June 2006. Plain text.
• Where do you want to go today? Unfinished—yet. Should I?

• Alive. The essence.
• Alone. Based on the words "fire," "dark," and "shudder."
• Among. The child of night and darkness.
• Around. In another fit of angst, Around came forth.
• Beneath. Another of my finer moments with nature.
• Between. Do you know what "it" is?
• Days. Time is on my side. Or something.
• A dream. Dr Freud?
• Feeling. Not to be confused with sappy pop songs (no plurals here).
• Goodbye. Short and sweet.
• In a greenwood. The greenwood is a merry place. Or is it?
• Like the river. Based on the words "old," "river," and "photograph."
• Lonescape.
• Revelation. I wrote this in 1981 (it's probably my first attempt at poetry) and have been unable to find it for years. It's amazing what a little basic housekeeping and cleaning now and again turns up. I'll have to do it more often.
• The River. But not Styx or Babylon.
• She. Dedicated to the Roman/Greek goddess of the hunt.
• Tell-Tail Sign. Mrrreow.
• The heart.
• To. After spending an hour on a train being hit on by a perfectly good guy who tried very hard but who didn't strike any of my emotional chords (see "The Train," part 2), I wrote To, perhaps to express that, IMO, love goes beyond what can be said. Do you have an opinion?.
• Twilight. Written during the height of day.
• Where? One of the questions of journalism—which has nothing to do with this poem.
• Wonder.
• You. I'm not a poet (and never will be). One day, however, I attempted a poem (blank verse, because I'm lazy). The result is You. Tell me what you think. It appeared in Spring Fantasy 1997, published by Women in the Arts. As my mother used to say, "Will wonders never cease?"

• The Train
  Part 1—Territorial Woman.
  Part 2—Hair Man.
  This is a personal essay about my experience with a couple of people I met during a trip. The names have not been changed because, frankly, I never knew them. I never wanted to know them.
• Incident at Albion. One day's train journey—to life and death.
• La Cucaracha. Everything you ever wanted or needed to know. Why ask why? Just do it. You know you want to.
• The Name Game. No prizes here; just some interesting tidbits about the common names of birds.
• Avian Chilling Out. Doesn't that title whet your curiosity?
• Encyclopedia articles
  • Mauritius kestrel
  • Plovers
• My dad. A plain text version of my memories of my father. An effort in progress.
• My dream place.

Comment if you like or go home.
Thursday, January 31, 2008.