Posted in Poetry

if only

her words always beautiful
unlike mine, edgy and raw.
someday i

arrive at the possibility
dangling stars and moonbeams
unafraid to sail on love
not hesitate to risk
vulnerability in words, chances
my heart encased within despair
these sombre moods.
oh, if only, sentiments to despise.

a painful way to survive,
that some day, around the corner.
if only.

Posted in Poetry, Random, short fiction

time found her an answer

get serious!
i once thought a blog
enough to satisfy
endless words emptied
then, an illumination
a bang!
exit an insignificant life
a book to publish
title picked out
theme derived

i am not ready to share details for obvious reasons. i pray i find someone interested in considering, accepting and/or publishing my idea, if only myself. i feel i figured enough to know my book, leave the rest up to the reader. so i am on a quest to hold up my idea and words…a purpose for my readers to consider, whether worthy to purchase or move on without me by their side.


She couldn’t resist the warmth another second. The afternoon sun wooed her eyes closed. His voice disappeared.

She holed up in that room as family waited for dinner. “Just a minute!” would turn to hours. They no longer waited for her. In solitude, she resigned to die in that chair, happy.

A fist on the door woke her. What time was it? A splash of cold water needed, she opened the portal.


i am happy today. an improvement enough to push  forward. happy writing, j

Posted in Memoir, Poetry


I can be reckless
my words emptied on empty paper
no longer white but black
yet, my mind turns green
and blue and peaceful

you, who are you?
return my thoughts, no thank you
i wash my hands of the ink stains
reminders of the holocaust
what remains painted somber

I stand before
a mighty oak refuge
pray, bury me in wisdom
show me a door to escape
where truth is gladly welcomed

you, who are you?
decide my words to digest
and spit out the rest
do not look back or fear
the sword I carry on my back


Posted in Homemade Video, Photography, Poetry, travel

Big Red

Church is poetry. Poetry is life. A life well lived.

Holland Harbor South Pierhead Lighthouse, 1907. The gabled roof is a Dutch influence of the area. The lighthouse is affectionately known as “Big Red” and was rescued from demolition in the 1970’s by the Holland Harbor Lighthouse Historical Commission. 

Posted in Art, Photography, Poetry, travel

Corner of 8th Street

Everything to think of sets off a pondering trail.

finishing touches, 10/21/2016
Admiring talent
corner of 8th and Columbia
street artists vision
almost complete.

Friday found us walking around Holland MI on a campus tour of Hope College and we ventured downtown. Eighth street is lined with quaint shops, craft brewery tap rooms and ample art. Hope College has dutch roots of immigrant children’s educational needs in the late 19th century and the college has blossomed into a 21st century leader in education.

Exciting opportunities for our daughter at Hope, while considering Goshen, Butler, Ball State and IUPUI. Those upcoming campus tours tbd.

The evening was dinner at Boatwerks along Lake Macatawa. We ordered a plate of crab cakes, lake perch dinner and crème brûlée. From our table we watched a barge travel in from Lake Michigan. We look forward to the morning trip to see Big Red Lighthouse at Holland State Park.

Posted in Advice, Poetry


I have been feeling rather brave of late.
I carried my thoughts,
alone and wondering about myself. I carry self-doubt,
travel with baggage,
packed haphazardly and feel it time to organize and weed out the garbage.

Abraham Lincoln was wise and gave a speech, 1839, “The probability that we may fail in the struggle ought not to deter us from the support of a cause we believe to be just; it shall not me.” We know he was talking about slavery but we personally can hold ourselves slave to thoughts. A study of his words determines that struggle is personal. We are to love ourselves as our neighbors. Lincoln encourages all to take the torch of light and burn bright inwardly so those blessings overflow to struggling neighbors. You will know who they are, even if they do not reach out. You who are able must defend and go forth in courage.

Words Lincoln Lived By,
Gene Griessman

Posted in Poetry

He was He

I am the lost one
lost from the fold
the fold afraid to love
shaming and callous hearts
tore me to pieces
then He came, brought “Peace!”
upon His feet the creeping earth
never touched His robe
a ghostly body
hid the wounds, emptied the blood
rising above the crested land we inhabit.

I may never have told my story
had not one night
one prayer, one desperate plea
“God where are thee?”
beneath the distant moon, calculating
I lie, broken and bloody
ravaged by heartless flesh
He was the one between
life and death, death I pleaded
take my life that I may cease
the breaths I take too painful.

He could be a figment
my imagination run wild
a child with no grace
desperate for faces to smile
back towards her,
blessings of pardoning love.
Naysayers, I rebuke their scoff
the miles, the tolls
no dollars in my pockets
He bought my ticket to life.
To life!