Self Portrait, by the lb

Trying to stay within my skin

Hide from all what stays within

It all comes out within five minutes

A poker face

I’ve not


Loving is what I’ve got

and I love you all


And I hope you love me

all 39 of me and counting


Let’s see

39 divided

by five


That’s a whole lot of my moods

in so many seconds

Whoosh there I am!

Whoosh there I go!


What do you know

about what I may know


No time

must go

And leave you so


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For You

Tear filled eyes bring on mosaics

lines blur and colors blend

Regret and heartache

hope and love


Sun rises and sets again

Another year

a painting

a picture of us both


A vision

a flash

a memory


Heart breaking

still beating

tuned to the sound

of a Harley

passing by

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Fake Russian Comey News


caught phishing

fed Brazile

a few questions



What’s her name




Got promoted

or demoted?

Added to HRC’s



The campaign

to nowhere



Electoral college

but who’s gonna

pay for it?

Miss Popularity?



my pa

in Wisc

got frisked


Jill Stein

got attention

does that count?

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November 29

There is nothing you did wrong
Nothing you could have foreseen
Children die of cancer, and babies too
It’s nothing that you did

All of us are dealing with the shock
We’re doing the best we can
The holidays are a wee bit frightful
but we’re determined to make the most
of what we can
make the most of, make the most of
and do a whole lot of things in your memory
with a toast of, with a toast of cheer
or a beer
or twenty
or thirty
or forty, but who’s counting

We’re getting by and not forgetting
by ourselves, by each other, by the fire

We know you’d be here, if you could
We hope you know we want you here

You’re loved, forever, remembered well
Our friend, our man, our buddy boy

Four months, three days, away

Posted in Poetry | 1 Comment

If You Change

If You Change

If you could try, tomorrow

to be everything you could be

for me

for you

for us

for everyone

Would you?

How many hours before it would become all about you


If you had tried, today

to do everything the right way

for me

for you

for us

for everyone

What would be different?

How many hours today did you even try to do anything


If you had tried, yesterday

to do everything the right way

for you

for anyone

Would I even know you now?

Do you remember yesterday at all or is it just a

blank page

like today

and tomorrow

Nothing written, nothing done

Just another moon, and another sun

Nothing changed, nothing gained

One day sun, one day rain

How many days pass

with the same refrain

How many nights pass

both feeling pain

This must change

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My House’s Got Mousers

Willie and Wallace are mousers now.

Before that, they were apartment cats.

Before me, they were shelter cats.

Before the shelter, they were two- and three-month-old kittens born in a back yard.

One year ago, when Rob and I bought this house, some mice decided to move in with us.  Willie and Wallace saw the mice and decided they were toys.  Or perhaps fellow pets.  They weren’t sure.

So they didn’t do anything but stare at the mice, smell the mice, perhaps chase the mice…but they definitely did not realize that they could KILL the mice.

So Rob and I got mouse traps.

That was a year ago, though.

Last month, a mouse came into the house.  Willie and Wallace smelled it and waited for it and chased it once it finally came into the light.

A week ago, I saw a small and glistening pile of what appeared to be mouse guts sitting on the guest room rug.

Rob saw a small and glistening pile of what appeared to be mouse guts sitting on the living room rug.

We have yet to discover what happened to the rest of the mouse (mice?) but we know something deadly occurred.

So sometime during the course of this past year, my cats have learned to be mousers.

But…I can’t help but wonder about the eating habits of cats who are mousers.

Leave two piles of innards on the floor, but no skeleton?  No carcass?  No head, no feet??

As Ronald Reagan once screamed, “Where is the rest of me???”.

I am new at being the mother of two mousers.  I do not know what to do, where to go, from here.

Should I be looking for a gutless dead mouse?  Or can I assume that he’s been eaten, except for his guts?  Would my two baby boys get their jollies from chewing on mouse heads and feet?  <insert Kliban here>

And can I get a refund on the four mousetraps I bought in vain?




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So, Yeah, I Finally Sang On Stage

I work at a gated community in the Poconos. Last year one of our residents formed a group called “Hemlock Players” and they performed a number of plays, including “Our Town” and “Arsenic and Old Lace”. This year, the gentleman who formed the group and serves as our director, star, and mentor decided to try a musical.

And I decided to audition for it.

And I ended up opening the second act of “Broadway Dreams”, performing three songs from “Funny Girl”.

And I still can’t believe that I finally got the nerve up to do it.

On this blog are videos from dress rehearsal. I hope you enjoy.

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