Three Days In the Woods (heave)

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

Three Days in the Woods (heave), Morgantown IN

The Poetry Society of New York

I contributed a line… immersed are a few favorites. Do have a favorite? I wonder if it is mine.

New people are welcome to join in on Facebook. Like them and then get ready to collaborate with fellow poets. A lot like Mad Libs! 🤗<<<

Poems: A Reading of the game of boxes


A book purchased at Indy Reads. I like her style, voice. Poetic fragments of stories told in concise language, with much left to imagination. The subject matter of relationships, both with lovers and with children, give reason to celebrate our excess and absence of connection.

Chorus (p.19)

The ones we love fall asleep
to our abandon,
we are always abandoning them
and then finding them,
we’d be lost could we not
abandon them, could we not
find and abandon them.

Tell no one where we go at night
in our sleep, how far we walk,
toward what, but accompany us
to the soundings, the quicksands,
and the rocks.

Her average rating on Goodreads is 3.69. One critic gave her zero stars, stating he “was pretty unimpressed by this work…nothing challenges, nothing is unique or traditional.” He goes on to say “it reads like someone who wanted to write what she always thought poetry was but never considered what it could be.”

Another reviewer gave her one star with “reading this collection is the limited range of poetic resources on display…the plainspoken voice can only carry a reader’s interest so far.”

For those who enjoyed her poems, one reviewer was “won over by the plainspoken…playfulness and the repetition.”

Susan said “you need to read if you are of this century but also a little bit lost in the past.”

Other words to describe her were “abstract but not over the edge”, “easy to read with a density to them”, “Surprising. Haunting in a delicious way.” and then “the language of the poems…often felt unfinished or like they were missing something or like I was missing something.”

Poetry, for the consumer, is really about the pull into the story far more than the textbook understanding of what a poem is or could be.  The Game of Boxes is 4/5 stars for me, but then I am not a critic of poetry, but rather a consumer. So really, what do I know about critically assessing others language other than if it moves me, like a man leading in dance, then I confess my love.


Life on Monhegan

just a taste … brought us, me, back to life.

The cold breath

of wintering hearts. Over.

I miss Monhegan Island. If I could fly, sewn feathers -tightly worn…

Instead, I sit

Dream -a


I did not meet Judith Pontura. Her book, stacked on a store shelf. The lady, behind the register, well, I asked her, had Judith signed any books? She had. A signature tucked away, book behind the counter. I bought it. I like to see the handwriting on the wall.

I opened the pages -again this morning. And an address, a P.O. Box with 04852 zip code. A name attached. Judith. Now Weber. Was this her? Had the cash-register lady given me her address? How, days pass. We forget the impact, never notice an island sprawled all over the desk. Mapped out-meticulously.

You remind me. Smell.

Monhegan May 2016


Winter Garden 12/9/2017

Act V: lie torpid

a winter of discontent

laying on of hands

I wonder how many people I’ve looked at all my life and never seen. John Steinbeck “The Winter of our Discontent”

12/9/2017 It is snowing this hour. I rushed outside to take notice. Imagined the designs of power. A white covering made of water that melts with love and embraces the cold-hearted.

With much gratitude

This is truly a heartfelt post. Why? You!!!

I never could have imagined sitting here nine years ago. I could barely talk. Was I saying any thing? Perhaps in my eyes you would have seen the pain. I welcomed death. I contemplated suicide.

After a year of therapy, my confidante encouraged me to reach out. I wrote everything in prose, and poetry to him, and so I thought, why not gather my thoughts and start a blog. It is anonymous after all. (Hahaha. That was not quite his idea of reaching out.)

Hahaha…this! (I may have posted elsewhere, a picture of myself?)

Regardless, I have changed from those once fateful days. I graduate with highest honors, a 3.96 gpa. I walk on December 16 and will be with my husband, two of my children, and countless bloggers who have seen me through. Whether you know it or not, you do now. I will be thinking of you. And my therapist. Forever grateful! 🤗❤️

I hope to continue my blog. I have become fascinated with the arts. I have traveled alone. Taken two poetry workshops with incredible poets. I have become. And when those brief moments appear, and I slip, dancing with death, I fight as all my might will muster. And write a poem. Or paint a picture. Or visit an art museum. Etc. Etc.

May. Math. Motivation.

“Math is not my subject of choice but a subject I am subject to.” –Jeanne

In order to get through the month of May I need to find motivation, motivation to do statistic’s homework.

“The difference between the poet and the mathematician is that the poet tries to get his head into the heavens while the mathematician tries to get the heavens into his head.”
–G.K. Chesterton

True.  I agree.  I understand I will be residing between two worlds.   Perhaps my reward, by the end of May, is the understanding of statistics. Perhaps.  Jeanne

Iron Horse

Read a poem.
It barely leaves infancy
trudging down the track.
Take a pause crusading soul.
Grapple with the moving words.

Churn the wheels round
voluntarily hold it in your heart.
An alleged mossy carpet ceases.

In the distance the horn
bellows, a cloud of smoke appears.
Let it go.

Years later
the meaning won’t be misplaced.
Find it hidden in jean pockets.

The Ring

Have you seen “The Hobbit” movie? Or read the book? I have seen the movie but cannot find the fortitude to make it through the book. I cannot read nor write in such a way as Tolkien. In response to that movie, watching the Lord of the Rings seemed a likely road to take, since reading the trilogy of books, to get an idea of the future of the ring, is not within my possibility.

Lady or Lord?

With this ring
on your finger
I wed
to bring power
and responsibility.

So, evil was
able to persist.
She took not the
advice of her child
who longed to love
her back.
The child watched in horror
as she drove away
wearing The Ring!

Avenge the sins of
the fathers and mothers.

Love your children
and your husband
and your self.
Keep guard
of your heart
lest power corrupt.

Which brings me to the question of why seemingly good people turn away from all that is right and embrace evil? Why did the white wizard, Saruman, turn to the dark side, as did Darth Vader in Star Wars? Is there always a happy ending to every story and will there be a happy ending to your story?

In my quest to understand, if it is possible to understand, man and his nature, which includes woman as well, I feel there are more questions than answers. C.S. Lewis aptly said,

“Good and evil both increase at compound interest. That is why the little decisions you and I make every day are of such infinite importance. The smallest good act today is the capture of a strategic point from which, a few months later, you may be able to go on to victories you never dreamed of. An apparently trivial indulgence in lust or anger today is the loss of a ridge or railway line or bridgehead from which the enemy may launch an attack otherwise impossible.”