Distant Shores: a Poem about Our Hearts and Memory


Distant shores elongate in a pose

a clock stands still

as decades from long ago sweep across my face

a wrinkle in the corner of my eye holds a memory


people from our past creep in like marbles on a tile floor

spreading across our hearts like a surf wide angle lens

a frame circles a dot in a tiny box in a room from far away

the lens captures the crevices that donate a sweeping song

over the senses to someone’s soul

deep and uncovered

a blanket lifted to the moon

underneath are the hearts that beat

from this shore to the next


the people we let in and out of our tiny boxed hearts

are bigger than the space we allow them to exist in

so they manifest into giant sequoias

that boast ballerinas

dancing in time cloaks from yesteryear

there they dance

and twirl into magnificent muses

tucked in our tiny pocketed hearts

bleeding onto the distant shores with their surf wide angle lens


Cliffs of Dover in Dover, England — Summer 2014

Cliffs of Dover in Dover, England

Cliffs of Dover in Dover, England

I wrote “Distant Shores” on MySpace.  Is MySpace even in business anymore?  Thought I would share it since it is National Poetry Month.


a frame

Red Socked Toes

Death moves

slowing in

a nursing home

creeping softly

with red

socked toes


out of opened


Hunched over

in wheelchairs

waiting for


death could

be more exciting

than the actual wait

sitting here with Betty

and a nameless

old lady

I asked her

her name

her matted

pink gums

holding in

her smile.

I wrote this poem May 28, 2011 while I was visiting my mother in a nursing home. She has since passed away. I found a notebook titled “Light” and decided to share since it’s National Poetry Month.

Spring View


I’m getting to know the #South.
I know her curves in #spring
with her #orchestra of #color.
She introduces #white to begin
with bouquets of popcorn on the Bradford trees
They echo in rows
down streets and alleys
in mid March.
Daffodils chime in providing a consistent tune, humming sweetly
Bright yellow describing her mood
Spring sings softly at first

The band ups the tempo
#Dogwood blooms blanket
the treeline
Tucked into canopies like bundles of babies, skin so soft and velvety

Soon the #azaleas will burst thorough
In bright patterns of pink,
reds, and pastel hues
their tiny antenna will peek through buoyant, crisp buds
April will sing tenure. Loud
Songs will shift, taking turns
Synchronizing patterns we barely notice
Until we sneeze and see yellow dust everywhere
#Spring training has begun

Spring's View

Spring’s View