Character Sketch

The lines become blurred. Smears of color.
Flash of red temper, blue introspection.
Purple passion and yellow smiling face.
A life long follower of rules not his own.
Never did he suspect the more that lurked.
The invisible neighbor, the nice guy.
The worker who did his job and, well…
This is the guy who lived his life.
And never spent a day truly alive.
The instruction sheets for life stacked.
Each day, each role played scripted out.
Be this. Do that. Smile. Laugh. Be that.
Nothing more, and oh sadly so much less.
He never suspected the rebel beneath.
One breezy night blew the plans away.
Life went wildly awry and blew his mind.
Colors came to life, brightened by fear.
Never had he faced the pain of living.
No TV show prepared him for this life.
Character is what you are when no one sees.
Not a mask or facade. It is the man.
Character moves our lives only when pressed.
Like diamonds, shining after great pressure.
A ‘nobody’ becomes the most interesting man.
The “Special” becomes who he truly is.
When he discovers how un-special he was.
And in that he finds the value of being.
And the value of doing as who we are.
Rules and ‘off the reservation’ we fly!


The song becomes something more real then.
“Everything is awesome!” is more than…
And becomes the total of the unknown.
Ordinary awesome gets blown away then.
Life goes wild for the secret master builder.

Brian has us writing about Character and I can’t help but think of my son playing Lego, and all the depth of character he infuses in each little plastic minifigure. After watching The Lego Movie we are more convinced that even under the surface of the most rule abiding, ordinary soul there lies a master builder, master poet, master artist just waiting to emerge and show their true character! Join us over at dVerse.

Winter, a Micro Poetry Fable



Arctic fox didn’t like his drab coat.

Summer grey wasn’t as lush.

He waved his tail and danced.


Calling the sun-dogs to the skies.

Pulling the Arctic cold down. Down.

The winter stayed too long. Too long.


Snowy owl came flying home.

Spring her time to come north.

Wings carried warm air sweet.

Spring flies home.


On the weekend Bjorn had an awesome prompt for doing a fable, which I missed, but I did a micro poetry fable about it on Twitter. I am sharing it here for OLN. It could become a future Poetics prompt, so take note ūüôā¬†

I took the photos last year of snowy owls coming north again in early spring through southern Saskatchewan.

There are some changes happening at the dVerse Pub that will make it better for our pub tenders and poets. Stop by and see what Brian had to say about it all.


someTHING special

Ginger Bread_001


Grandma hand wrote each recipe.

She changed them each time too.

Her notes scratched in margins.

Cookbooks were never safe!

My mother typed this, she likes

the tidy neatness of typing.

And yet she added the hand

notes as in my Grandma’s

version. History and heritage

dual treats always so sweet.




SomeTHING blowy. SomeTHING snowy.

Drifts bury fences. Cows don’t care.

No feed near them drifts anyway.

SomeTHING blowy. SomeTHING snowy.

Winter your welcome is long worn out.

I’m tired of walking through deep snow.

It WAS warmer today. That is someTHING.

SomeTHING to be thankful for.

Spring will break your hold upon us.

That is someTHING to look forward to.

Until then, snow falls, and blows.

Tracks fill and drifts rise. Rise! RISE!

Snow, like God’s EtchaSketch blows everyTHING

into a flat white canvas. Tracks and prints.

Only room for sunlight and shadows.

Victoria has us writing about THINGS today for Meeting At The Bar over at the dVerse Pub. So far my THINGS have been Granda’s recipe and the snow. Enjoy!

Wind lifting feathers


book pages on the side

of the road flutter like

the wind lifting the

feathers of a dead bird,

I pass by and mourn both.


I pass the river where the

snapping turtle lives and

wonder how she fares

and if she will wander

again come spring in

her larger than life

shell across the road.


Who encourages the

encouragers? Cares

for the ones who give

care? Who holds up

those who hold us

up? How can we

say we didn’t know?


Birds sit hopeful

on last year’s

bowed sunflower

heads. Soon my

feathered friends.



It is Open Link Night for dVerse Poets Pub. There are some great poems already going live on blogs from all over. Stop by, read some poetry and leave some love. Share your own, it’s open to all poets!¬†

Today I am musing about things I saw on my drive yesterday, and the memories certain places bring up. Some are short enough to be #micropoetry and others not quite.

Growing over a broken branch



Like a tree grows over a broken branch,

We grow over our broken parts into

a new and stronger whole. Something

new built on the old. Stronger. More us.




Sometimes I reach with one foot.

Past the tangle of sheets to find you.

A touch, warmth, your breathing a

sigh – and we settle back to sleep.


Watching the snow melt on your

gloves and hat reminds me of the

fun we just had playing in the snow.

Joyful noises from boys and dogs.


A .12 gauge plunger, Lego “Awesome”

Big and little, “Where are my pants?”

Farts, toy cars, tech toys and guys.

“Mama can you…” and “Honey where…”

Life always equals more than the parts.

Memories lose their bitter to be sweet.


I’m hosting at the dVerse Pub for Poetics this weekend. We are telling love stories, and sharing love poems, without using love language or being too sappy. Enjoy. Come over and see the amazing poets who have shared. Share your own. And leave love. Always leave love.

Broke to Ride bout rimes

drive, side, night, lied, wage, saved, made, face, nurse, church,worse, purse, back, that.


Storm clouds rolling over the cattle drive.

Off of drag, I’m pushing bush on the side,

gotta get em gathered an’ bedded ‘afore night.

He said he’d save supper, but Cookie lied.

It’s a ¬†life, but no living on this cowboy wage.

Preacher comes ’round askin who’s saved.

I’m fixing that Mexican bridle Sam made.

Crow warrior, blood red hand print on his face

going home slow, spirits wounds to nurse.

Singing songs of heaven and home in church

it makes this longing to see my family worse.

Buck sips his whiskey, squints and purse

his lips together, spat some tobacco juice back

an said, “We come to far boys, to go back to that!”


Tony at dVerse has us playing with a word list for bout rime poetry. I had to head back to my cowboy poetry and cowboy roots to share a bit of a night rider and campfire lament. Enjoy, or even better dally up and rope yerself some courage and try your hand at this fun form!

Remain calm



Remain calm. The best advice.

Life is fragile. Handle with prayer.

Dancing on the edge of panic.

And a stillness holds me back.

Be still. Be still. Breathe. In. Out.

Running in place doesn’t make miles.

It’s a fast getaway on a rocking horse.

Feed goes in poop comes out.

Life is what goes in during the between.

Mind, body, spirit. Praying. Hoping.

Knowing what has to be done,

just not knowing how to the when.

Wishing I could sleep in the sun

with the cats and the dogs instead.

Hunting down elusive things and

doing work. Wondering at the

view ahead. Snowy roads.

Rainy days. Stormy maybe.

One step. Just one. Left or right?

God doesn’t count the steps

forward or back, He sees the heart.

He counts the tears. Not the fears.

He counts the scars that tell

we survived another bout.

He steps in His own time.

We walk, humbly at best,

and often kicking, screaming

being dragged by our stubborn

hands, heels dug in holding on.

I want place of ‘okay’ because

I know it. I don’t want the risk.

The unknown can be amazing.

But it is unknown and therefore

we are taught to fear it. Only the

reckless or crazy seek it wildly.

We leave limbo behind, boldly.

Dancing down an ice covered

highway, left or right turn?

Go. Just go. Get going.

Remain calm. Be still.

God’s got this. Breathe.

Live. Love. Laugh.

Pray. Pray first. Pray.

Prayer is


He spat a tobacco plug.

Prayin’ oughta be done first girl.

No sense askin’ for savin’ in a hurricane.

I nod. Listening. Knowing more was to come.

Pick yer horse. Saddle up. Give God the reins.

You gotta ride with God, prayerin first, not last.

He nods at a wild mare, she comes running but dashes away.

She’s got the devil in her. Praying won’t save ya from a wreck.

Prayer woulda told ya to ride the sorrel tho, she’s steady and true.

How often, do we grab the pretty bronc, saddle up and pray as we fly?

Gettin’ bucked off don’t mean the end, but why pray after the ground hits?

Prayin is first thing ya do before yer eyes open, an at the last as they close.

Be thankful for whatcha have, whatcha missed and what makes ya stronger.

Even a quiet horse will hop ya around, but that makes ya a better horseman.

I rub the ears of a sweet old mare, kid’s horse, and give her a treat. I nod. I hear.


 for Open Link Night

Sketch Poetry


New sketch book remains blank and so very new.

Chalk board with chalk beckons me to play.

Lego Movie song ear worm sings loud 

everything is awesome, everything is cool

Lego Movie game with wild west music

laughing boy while daddy naps in the sun

everything is awesome, everything is cool

I play in the chalk, promising not to erase 

cats chase bird shadow shows on the blinds

a dog sleeps, tongue out, dreaming dreaming 

another windchill warning day

with the sun warmly laughing at us

teasing with thoughts of spring while

the polar vortex twists us in frozen knots

I long for paints, colored pencils and flowers.

Ugh winter be gone ye shall not last 

that is truth, and in it the seed of a lie

for winter always returns, she is like that

frozen bird song as magpies eat apples

I let myself dream of things to come

and wonder is it the cold medication

giving me visions and wonders of spring

or am I really seeing an end to

cabin fever  the cows and horses

steam in the cold sunshine and look

at me like it is my fault that spring

isn’t tempering this winter yet.

Grandma would be proud of me

I feed them all, tame and wild, so

maybe our wait won’t be so hard.

everything is awesome, everything is cool


Claudia asked us to sketch a poem, perhaps even use a sketch of our own, and not edit or fuss at it. Just let it flow and be. This is just what I did. Enjoy. Stop by dVerse to see what the other amazing poets have contributed today. And please share your own. And leave love. Always leave love.

Winter Ride

Take me lady, take me on a winter ride.

Dance with me over snow and ice.

Blow me in with storms of you.

Take me lady. Take me.


Take me lady, take me on a winter ride.

Race with me! We have miles to go.

Saddle me a wild blue eyed mare.

Take me lady. Take me.


Take me lady, take me on a winter ride.

Chasing down dreams of springtime.

Running against the cold night.

Take me lady. Take me.


Take me lady, take me on a winter ride.

Kicking at winter. Breaking the cold.

Making a wild race to spring time.

Take me lady. Take me.


Take me lady, take me on a winter ride.

Ride with me until spring sun shines.

Ride with me until we are wild again.

Ride with me, lady. Oh ride.


For dVerse,we are thinking song lyrics. And I’ve been stumped. So in the spirit of riding wild horses across the plains in the pursuit of spring I give you this.