Thursday, December 3, 2009


"Yes" she answered him.
" I don't ever hang around too long.
I am a stream of meteors flashing
through the skies. If you are observant
you'll spy me as I pass by. But only
the early riser will catch my glow
and you will know it's me as I rain down
on you a storm packed with fifteen hundred
meteors that light up your desert sky.
Then and only then, when everyone else
is sound asleep, deep within their dreams,
I will captured your heart and take you in flight
across the constellation Andromeda.
It is then you will discover where I go and why.
So rest assure when I close a door, I open a galaxy."

Tuesday, December 1, 2009

Full Moon

The current moon is
one hundred percent full.

The current status of my brain
is one hundred percent empty!


Thursday, November 12, 2009

A challenge...

I challenge one and all to write a poem or short essay with the word "cuddle" in it.

Don't ask
: )

Sunday, October 25, 2009

sotto voce

soft sounds of love
cradle beneath
a pale orange moon,

lifts eyes

whose desire curiously
opens soft pink
folds of love.

mouth searches…
an assuring touch
in the dark.

sepia shadows dance across
the dew-kissed September lawn,
hot plum wine breath inhales deeply

and then release a sudden whisper...

a confessional moment.

Tuesday, September 22, 2009

Closer to God

The closer you get with God,
the harder the devil knocks
on your door!

Never leave home
without the armor
of God on.

Sunday, August 30, 2009

Choking on fear

I braved the waters today
and dove in head first
with no fear of drowning.

I have drowned before
many times,
choking on my fears
till they bled out.

No one ever noticed
I hid it well, still do,
as strong currents
wrap around my ankles
and drag me under.

I hold my breath
till I have no more breath
left in my lungs to hold...
I can't breath.
I gasp for air,
water fills my lungs
suffocating me...

But then I surface--
I always surface

leaving footprints
. . . at the water's edge.

Saturday, August 1, 2009


Today I pulled memories
out of the back of a closet.

Memories neatly preserved
on 45 RPM vinyl.

The psychedelic, mod design box
took me back to a time of innocence.
A time of a war that was ending.
A war I knew very little about.
But still I wore a POW bracelet
and prayed everyday for that soldier.

In a far away land,
the brave risked or lost their life.
In a small corner of America,
I was a girl, becoming a woman.
Trying to figure it all out.

Sheltered from the harshness
of the world,
by two loving parents.

Hell!...I didn't even know
about Woodstock till 1970,
when the album hit the stores.
And Crosby, Stills and Nash
sang of Woodstock.

The memory filled box
sings to me of a
"becoming of age" time.

Like it was yesterday,
when I was young.
The tender age of thirteen
and in love for the first time.
"Puppy Love" so they say.

Those were the days
that held me tight.
At times, chewed me up
and spit me out.

There was the Hurdy Gurdy Man
and Mrs. Robinson.
Hey Jude made a sad song better.
I walked through crimson and clover.
Had an Indian Giver for a best friend.
This magic moment made me dizzy.
I weaved a gum chain from
cinnamon gum stick wrappers.
Picked buttercups in
a field of lie that let me down.
No big surprise.

Hanky Panky was frowned upon.
But the river is wide, as
I raced off on a spinning wheel.
Someday I may get back to you
if you don't let me down.
I could have been your Heather Honey.

In the Ghetto, they don't
understand the Israelites.
Maybe in the year 2525,
persuasion will be crystal blue.
You can't always get what you want.
But just look into these eyes
to see that I adore you,
more today than yesterday.

Let me grow my hair
shoulder length or longer.
Swing through the trees
like Guitarzan.
In this world, only the strong survive.
So rock me, cause Eli's coming
and he seeks an Evil woman.

Holly Holy!

Baby, take me in your arms,
cause we're so good together.

Peace man! Groovy.
Flower Power.
Make Love, not War.

I still wonder...
How many people
can fit inside a bug?

Sunday, July 26, 2009

un-red valentine

your love is like
wild winds whipping my heart
staining me blue

Friday, July 10, 2009

Somewhere, tea for two

Out of the shadows a romantic story emerges

of two souls destined to find love.

It's true, so many stories of romance have been written

that one could make a noose for the world with them.

But love is a very funny thing and as you know

you can hate someone you love

and love someone you hate...

Many times over and over again love is misunderstood

and many are stood up and many have missed the boat.

Still, can one live without it?

Men are driven to insanity over and by women...

and women, well, yeah, you already know the story.

So another love story to gag on is in the making...

did I lose you yet?

Perhaps I did, but a least my shadow is still here,

waiting right next to me as I sit at a quaint little

bistro table at an outside cafe just waiting to order.

"Madame, may I take your order?"

" Not just yet, sir, I am hoping to order tea for two"

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

Angel in the Park

Once upon a time
long before my birth,
under the cobalt sky of earth,
amongst the horse chestnut trees
and carpet of green in a park...

a man made a decision to
finally speak to the dark-eyed
beauty with the long blackish hair.
that he had seen for many days
in his daily travels to and fro.

The Spring air was crisp and
his step was lively as he
approached this lovely lady.

As space closed-in between them,
the lady quickly turned and walked away,
like that of a playful doe, gracefully
sprinting off into the thicket.

Puzzled, the man sat down on a bench
under a horse chestnut tree and thought
it odd that there were no lower branches.

Wispy, white clouds, low in the sky
drifted by as a strong wind swiftly
whipped through his dark wavy hair.
He jumped to his feet as
he heard an inner voice say
"She is the one, go to her."

Un-be known to him, 'twas the
voice of my guardian angel.

Meanwhile, still in the park,
was the dark-eyed beauty,
waiting for three o'clock.

Once again, the wavy-haired man
approached the lady and
once again, she sprinted off.

Dumb-founded, the man walked off,
wondering if he should give it one more try.
These thoughts smoked his mind.

The sky began to turn a radiant blue,
ethereal and divine.
A cloudy image of a heavenly messenger
hovered over the horse chestnut tree.
Deep, woody fragrance of evergreen
delighted the man's senses
as the aroma infused with
the glory in his heart.

It was now three o'clock and
'round the bend of the park
walking lively up the path,
was the dark-eyed beauty.

As he approached her, the distance
between them disappeared,
and they spoke to each other
for the first time and
many times thereafter....
I call this man and woman...Mom and Dad.

Long before my birth....
my guardian angel,
their guiding angel....

the Angel in the park.

Tuesday, May 26, 2009

A Beautiful Place

is where my heart soars
and my pen tries to follow.

A place where the sun warms
my skin to a golden bronze.

I could be anywhere and if a free
moment comes my way, I steal away,
sit back and close my eyes.

The swoosh of car tires become
the waves on a beach as they lull
me into my own little world.

All I need is but a few minutes
to last me through the day,
like a sweet little vacation
where the hot sun caresses my face
like passionate kisses
and the dry breeze feels good
as it cools down my hot skin.

I drift into a midsummer daydream--
gulls circle overhead,
screams of excited children in the distance,
salty ocean spray coats my skin and
glasses till the day appears to be foggy.
My toes dig for damp sand as the sun
intensifies its heat.

I daydream of a rocking sensation from
a time when I stood in between two
shoals in the shallow water of the ocean
as the tide came in.
I stood there for a long time.
It was so peaceful, so soothing.
I felt that rocking long after
I came out of the water,
kind of like the sensation when
your feet still feel like they are
ice skating, long after the skates are off.

I think back to long road trips in summer
when my kids where small and we drove
to Hershey where the whole town
smelled like chocolate pudding
cooking on a stove top.
Where it must have been a law
that everyone had to plant flowers
in that town.
It was so beautiful and sweet there,
and I miss those times when my kids
were small and loved me like I was the
most important thing in their world.
Perhaps it is a beautiful place
in their daydreams too.

I am tempted to put this daydream in rhyme,
but for most, that would be a crime.

I could free verse this daydream to death,
but it is saved by time.

Time to come back from a beautiful place.

Sunday, May 17, 2009

Invisable War

And so today I awake
to the dragons fiery hold
upon my throat.
As warriors drum
their violent sound
deep within my head.
I stand, and it's as if
the eighth wonder of the world
has just slammed his fist
down upon my head.
No number of painkillers
will do today.

I am strong...usually.
But still, the microscopic
enemy has entered.
My army of antibodies
has depleted.
They are under surprise attack!
Oh shit!

I can hear my army
calling for back up.
"All vitamins in the
cupboard...enter now!"
Being the leader of my army,
I cannot let them down.

I have failed them.
I have let stress take over.
I have burned the candle
from both ends.
But such is life.

Now it's up to me
to win this war.
And win I will!

As flames of fire
rise up from within me,
I make my way to the cupboard.

Outside, Spring summons me,
with it's promising sun, blue sky,
crocus, and robins.
But the brightness is
so wicked today.
My eyes squint and turn away.

In a daze, I open the cupboard
and find the weapons of choice
for my saving army.
Down my scratchy, red throat
I swallow vitamins one by one,
and flood myself with spring water.

Half my task is now done!
Now I must go lay down
and let sleep come...

Sleep comes easier then
I imagined it would today.
I begin to dream...
strange, vivid dreams.
All along my army is
flowing through my veins
after the enemy with vengeance!

The enemy takes the same path
and I am just thankful it never
goes into my stomach,
for then I would be at the
mercy of the puke demon.
Instead, it only knows
how to infect my
upper respiratory system.
Annoying as that can be,
it is deal able.
I know in about seven days
my army will have chased
the enemy completely out!

I will continue to
hallucinate from
the fire that burns within
as I stumble around
with a top-heavy head.

Friday, May 8, 2009

Orange Moon

Driving home 'round the bend
I ran into an orange moon.
Twas hanging right in front of me.
Right between the tall oak trees.

It stole my breathe in a second
It took my heart, right then and there.
I fell in love with you again,
by the sight of this orange moon.

I headed north down Randall Rd
and feared that I would loose it.
But there it was, just left of me.
That orange wafer of a moon.

It sailed so smoothly, yet shyly hid
between the trees and in the clouds.
No way for it to go un-noticed.
This larger then life orange moon.

I wondered if others thrilled over
this touchable site within the sky.
I wondered if Cosmo would mind
if I borrowed his moon tonight.

At that very moment, we connected.
As I felt you viewing...
that same orange moon.

Monday, May 4, 2009


Soft morning mist caresses me
like your memory
as a ray of sun peeks through
like your blue eyes upon my heart.
The birth of a flower rises up
from the earth
like your soul going home
to meet our Lord.


Photo by Alex, at Photography by Alex
thanks, Alex!

Tuesday, April 28, 2009

Of Music

Is there no sweeter moment for my soul
then one that sings to me such sweet delight?
In the darkest of storms, it does console.
In the heat of passion, it can excite.
You ask of me which one my heart holds dear.
But how can I choose of only one song?
Rainbows and star dust, I can clearly hear.
As whispers in the night, travel along.
Sweet symphony still plays the water's edge.
I lose myself within the heart of rock.
Then I place my heart upon a thin ledge,
and soak myself into a writer's block.
Still sweet melodies sing of memories,
the beat that pulses through my arteries.

Sunday, April 26, 2009

Of Peace and Joy

I learned as a child, the horrors of war.
I learned from books and pictures I saw.
I learned of hate, violence and greed
I learned of starving people, we couldn't feed.

I thought back then, the world would change
I thought other cultures, seemed really strange.
Why would they live in a place with no food and water?
Why would a parent pick a husband for their daughter?

Why does man fight over land, when there is so much?
Why can't we share the lands resources and such?
I thought time would civilize everyone.
But it's like waiting for the midnight sun.

I wish for us all, that wars would cease.
I pray everyday for world wide peace.
I found here, a little haven of joy,
of heart and soul...the real McCoy.

In our own little corner of the world, we live
with love, hope and understanding to give.
We, poets of the world, stand tall, stand proud
We speak in volumes without being loud.

Yet our message is heard through many words.
Rehearsed through scholars and even nerds.
Long live the words through our verse
as they enter the mind and then immerse.

Monday, April 20, 2009

The Dance

In the quiet of the night
learning poetry was contentment,
till there was a knock on the door
and an offer to dance.
A flower hesitated to bloom
in an uncaring world.
Who would notice her colours anyway?
Shyly her petals began to unfold.
How bold this dance made her feel.
Her colours began to radiate...
the most precious flower of the garden.
She stood tall, gaining strength in her stem.
Never before were her colours noticed.
She became tangled in the tango
revealing her morning dew
within her unfolded sepal.
During the intensity in the heat of the dance
the heart of the flower had been eaten.
This began the demise of the flower.
Her petals began to fall, one by one.
Once a muse for passionate poetry...
now left out in the rain to welter and cry.
The strength drained from her stem,
her colours sunk to the ground.
Yet still, her fragrance fills the air,
she knows this dance will not be forgotten.


Should I ever find myself
with map in hand
in passenger seat
in charge of destination
at the end of a road
where left is right,
never again will the words
"right" leave my lips.
Now and forever the right word is...


Saturday, April 18, 2009

Fractured True Story

Once upon a time
one day a man was a gentleman
and took his lady out to din din
bought her a favorite CD
opened doors for her
held her ass tight
gave her lots of kisses
and whispered I Love You

But that was only one day
once upon a time ago

So she turned into a bitch
and turned him into a toad.

Saturday, April 11, 2009

To be an egg

To be or not to be an egg
that is the question.
To be taken away and carted
to end up scrambled or fried.
Or hard boiled and colored
for an Easter surprise.

To be or not to be an egg
O! which one came first?
To be fertilized, then disorganized
to end up in a carton with
unfertilized eggs
and cracked open for a meal
O! what a horrid surprise!

Thursday, April 9, 2009

Full moon

The moon is full tonight
and I want to write it!
But my muse has gone
and run away with all
the showers of April.

Tuesday, April 7, 2009

April is....

National Poetry month!
Do you know where your pen
and paper are?

Fantasy's Trail

Heavy grow my lids
as I absorb this adventure.
Silhouetted tall-framed figure
appears in my daytime dream.
Backtrack to leaves of green
on a humid summer night.
You sing to me a serenade
beneath the bright moon light.
Every night we walk this trail.
We walk and talk of how we'll be
in years to come, forever young
within our hearts and poetry.

© Vivian

Sunday, March 29, 2009

Words at Bay

Upon a whisper and warm breath
you slip into my dream...
fingers running 'round and 'round
my auburn strands of hair.

All wrapped up in my slumber
I taste your hunger
and the words you keep at bay.

I see within your eyes of truth
the colors rich in years gone by.

I feel the words you mean to say
inside my mouth born of a kiss
that only night can bring.

Yet in the dawning hour
your heated breath sears my skin
as our song sings out
and I swallow the words I long to say...

the very words you always
keep at bay.

Monday, March 23, 2009

Spring Arrives

fills the morning
with a promised warming
riding in on an ocean breeze
that lingers through the tops of budding trees
as winter sheds its snowy robe
like a shaken glass globe
surrenders to

Help! this rictameter poem is supposed to be centered and I can't figure out how to do that....anybody know how to? Thanks!

Saturday, March 21, 2009

Poetry Alive!

Will you join me on a journey?
Imagine we can connect the stars,
and sing a silly love song,
as we leave behind our scars.

With our feet firmly planted on the ground,
we travel over hills of moss and clover.
To invigorating words we find we’re bound,
As each new verse we carry over.

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

I am born of Spring

I am born of Spring
before my time
God had a plan for me
I will go forth and plant seeds

Saturday, March 7, 2009


Numbness invades
once again.
Daily chores...
a quiet battle.

Another day of
telling lies.

"So how are you?"
"Fine, thank you,
and how are you?"

Forging smiles...
a thin disguise.

But be at rest,
O weary soul.
For numbness
always passes.

Tomorrow's dawn
promises hope.
Clear of webs
and un-frayed rope.

Friday, March 6, 2009

Flying in V Formation

I am stronger with you all by my side
How easy it will be to arrive.

Catch me now I'm falling out of formation
I feel a dragging sensation.

But we unite our flight in harmony
and reach our goal effortlessly.

Leadership is shared, respect is mutual.
Abilities and talents we combine.

In formation, we cheer our front man on
and thus, maintain speed.

Should I become hurt or ill, I'll never
be left on my own.

I am stronger with you all by my side
How easy it will be to arrive.

If we all collaborate, despite our differences,
How pleasant the flight of years will be.

Sunday, March 1, 2009

A Winter Morning

Slowly leaving a peaceful state,
awakening to a deafening silence,
with an odd glow peering through blinds,
chilling air touches skin,
as blankets get tossed aside.
Stepping over to the window,
sun-lover curiously opens the blinds.
Gasp of surprise breaks the silence.
Countless number of brilliant white flakes,
all collected quietly during the night.
Still floating down without a sound.
No wind disturbs their travel.
Each unique in its' own design.
Stacks on the ground in massive quantity.
With no urgency to this Saturday morning,
immersed in deep thoughts of getting started,
goes back to the warmth left under the covers.

Wednesday, February 25, 2009

The Barber

Can I help you?...
Do you cut hair?
I'll have a ham and cheese on rye.
I'm beyond help.
Is Louis in?
Man points to head.
I'll take a cut.
Who is the best haircutter?
Is Evan in?
I'll wait for one of the guys.
I'll wait for Kristina.
Is Angela in? ( there is NO Angela! )
Do you cut little boys... I have a baby in the car.
Do you take Master Card or Visa?
Can I get a "senior" cut?
I need my car washed.

And my favorite of all...reeking with genuine sarcasm...
Well ( ah duh! ) I am here for a haircut!

Excuse me, Captain Obvious, but I didn't ask
you if you "want" a haircut ( why else would you be here? )

Ahh, time for some fun...
I motion to this fly to come over and sit in my web.
I then net him with a cape ( tight around his stinking neck! )
and prepare him for dinner. The reason I ask you sir,
if "I" can help you, is because some customers like to
wait for a particular haircutter and I never assume.

Now that he is sitting one peg lower in my chair...
the next polite question.

How do you want your hair cut?...
Shorter ( another Captain Obvious ).
A regular with a tapered back.
A crew cut.
Flattop please.
Number 3 on top, triple zero on sides and back.
A skin fade.
All scissor cut.
Machine, but not too close.
Cut my hair exactly the way you cut it last time,
my wife really liked it.
Can you just cut the grays? ( fake I never
heard that one before ).
Not short, my wife doesn't like it short ( weenie! ).
Well done.
I'd like them all cut ( oh geeeez ).
Johnny would like a number 2 on the sides and back,
scissors on the top and a whip ( you mean a flip lady! ).
Do you use scissors? ( are you for real? ).
Teenager with long hair over his eyes: shorter.
Barber: ( how short? ) Do you want to see?

On baldness...
The classic: Can you take some off the back
and put it on the top? ( gotta love that one! ).
Not much left up there to cut.
Go easy on those hairs up there. ( Mister! Do you really
think this comb-over makes you look younger? ).
And the prize goes to: The migration has begun.
Barber: What do you mean?
My hair has begun to migrate back!

Fellows...God only created some perfect heads...
on the others, he put hair!

Oh he/she comes again...

Please don't sit in my chair, over and over again and
tell me how I cut your hair the best and boast to me
about all your vacations, only to leave me a dollar and
fifty cent tip and than ask me if it's enough!
Did I insult you?

I thank God for all you loyal customers who show
your appreciation for my skilled haircut and friendly
service with your generosity.
( you give me reason to care ).

I am "next best" to your local neighborhood bartender
and much cheaper than your psychiatrist.
Only difference is...

When you leave the bar, you Think that you look good.
When you leave that barber, you DO look good!

Tuesday, February 24, 2009

Poem in D Minor

I've seen, I've heard this play before
two restless souls a fire
Invite, excite, to come explore
to see what will inspire

But star-dust soon will leave the eye
I'm sure you will agree
Another beauty passes by
And then I'm history

Recite to me a ballad free
of broken hearts galore
Don't lust for me on bended knee
For I will cry no more

Friday, February 20, 2009

Be not afraid...

to take a moment out
and leave a comment.

Make me smile.

I don't bite!


I swear.

Truly I


swear that is....not bite!

Tuesday, February 17, 2009


There are days when
I search through my mind,
like searching through
a dusty attic
for old mem'ries.

Thoughts swirl
'round in my head,
as if caught up in
a violent twister.

I question my very
existence and worth
as I wonder what
could have been,
had I not shelved
my words years ago.

Then as fresh mountain air
on the dawn of a new day
it becomes clear to me.

My suppressed gift
for words was looking
up at me through
soft brown eyes...
my daughter!

Her gift for writing,
a blessing from God,
is like sweet
fragrance of lilies
that intensify my world.

In my search through
more old mem'ries,
I backtrack down
a forgotten path.
One of fine milled paper
and soft lead.
And I wonder why
I ever stopped drawing.

Not long after
my first son was born,
it became clear to me
like streak-free glass,
that my artistic talent
paled in comparison
to his.

His talent is like
a rare rose
that thrives on
a branch of thorns,
waiting to show it's
beauty to the world.

Music reigns in me
and has spilled over
into the birth of
my second son.

His musical essence
fills my senses
like the aromatic scent
of hillside flowers.

Sweet sounds from the
Soulful power from
the trumpet.
Ebony and ivory
played with grace.
Hard driving
rock...he finger's
my heart with
guitar strings,
in perfect rhythm
with his brother's
drum beats.

I wonder if my children
know how proud
I am of them.
And that I can see
their father's passion for life
through their eyes, and
that we both cherish
them dearly.

I pray that
they don't allow
their gifts to become
old mem'ries
in a dusty attic.

Saturday, February 14, 2009

Moment in Time

you is like a
frozen moment in time
and I swear my heart skips a beat
while the taste buds on my tongue release sighs
and the moment you pull away
I can't wait till next time
our mouths are

Tuesday, February 3, 2009

Windy Febuary Night

Cold seeping inward
Unwanted chilled caresses
Gusty night prowler

Febuary Snow

Crispness beneath feet
Visible warm breath vapor
Animals retreat

November; acting like winter


dark clouds in blue sky
leaves ride up high on the wind
cold seeps into bones


Friday, January 30, 2009


You can believe all the stories
and all the facts of why the sky
is blue.

But not until one has looked
into your eyes will they ever
know the truth.

When your precious blue eyes
look out into the world
they color the grayest skies....