The Apology

The small, fragile jewelry box
sewn in a delicate tapestry
fabric that was now
worn and frayed,
held only a
lone pair of dangled
earrings, three tiers of
pale, pink
crystals that now still
sparkled in the slice
of sunlight that had
crept across the room’s
planked flooring.
A story surrounded this
box and those earrings.
A love story, a gripping story,
a loss story and one
of struggle against the
flat, matte images of lives
entangled (and dangled)
in life and with each other.
Those earrings were an apology.

Join me at dVerse Poets Pub for Open Link Night Thursday at 3PM EST where I’ll be hosting.

How to Explain

how to explain feelings that wane
when once they waxed in fiery flames
our breathing ragged gasps untamed
sweating bodies now arid strain
love’s a languid mess entangled
how did it come to be this stain
searching not where to lay the blame
how to explain feelings that wane

Bjorn hosts one last Open Link Night before our winter break.  Please join us in linking any one poem of your choice at dVerse.

“The Snowman”; Happy Holidays!

  I want to wish each and every one of you a happy holiday and may you enjoy peace and prosperity in the New Year to come.  I posted this last year and thought I would share it again…it’s a favorite story of mine and I love the haunting song in this movie which you can hear on the video below.

     In 1978,  English author, Raymond Briggs, published the story “The Snowman”.  It is a wordless book using only illustrations to tell the story.  The pictures are in full color and are in a hazy softness that hints of the falling snow that brings about the story that unfolds.  A movie was made of the book in 1982 and has a different ending than the book but is also wordless except for one song that is sung, “Walking in the Air”.  The movie is 26 minutes long.

     The movie (and the book) came to my attention in 1982 when I was approached by our family hairdresser who asked if our two daughters, then 9 and 7, would like to assist her husband in the review of a new children’s movie.  Her husband, Jay Boyer, was the movie critic for the Orlando Sentinel at the time.  He would interview each of them for their opinions after the screening and they would be quoted in the subsequent write up .  The girls were very excited about getting to see the movie before it opened to the public and were accompanied by two other children and Jay on the day that they went to do their “job”.  They also missed a day of school–even more fun.

This is the movie version:

     A small boy builds a snowman after a heavy snowfall.  He continues to look out at it as he joins his family inside at the end of the day.

     However, the boy can’t sleep and he goes downstairs and opens the front door to check on his friend.  The clock strikes twelve and the snowman magically comes to life.  The snowman joins him inside as the boy shows him around the house and the wonders of TV, a light switch, running water, etc.  He doesn’t care for the fireplace…the refrigerator, he loves!

     They return outside and the snowman decides to show the boy his world and gently they glide up into the sky.  They fly over London and off towards the North Pole to meet up with Father Christmas.  Father Christmas greets the boy and gives him a gift of a scarf.  The boy and his friend return to the boy’s home.

     In the morning, as he awakens, the boy runs to the yard and finds that his friend has melted by the morning sun.  As he puts his hand in his robe’s pocket, he finds the scarf.

     The movie was nominated for an Academy Award for Animated Short Film.  It was scored by Howard Blake who wrote the music and lyrics and conducted his own orchestra, Sinfonia of London.  “Walking in the Air” was sung by St. Paul’s Cathedral choir boy, Peter Auty.

     You can watch it in it’s entirety on Vimeo.

I Miss That Time

There is no one
that I miss.
No one who has
passed on or moved
through my life do
I wish would return.
No, I am at peace
with the time we
spent, however
short or long.

There is a wistful-
ness though of times
long ago of when I
was young and
content, happy and
secure with being a
new mother and
feeling a purpose
that was profound
and real.  I was
needed, and savored
each moment of
tending and caring.
There was no sacrifice
within my delight.

Love flowed freely
from me to you,
my heart open wide
to intuit your needs.
Holding you gently,
warmly to my breast,
keeping you close
and safe from harm.
Teaching and showing,
listening and giving,
rejoicing in your
perfection, fed my soul.
Looking into your eyes,
I marveled at your
preciousness and the light
that glowed around.
It was grace that brought
us together, our energies
aligned within a universal

So it’s those times that
I miss more than anything
else.  Those early days
of motherhood were
truly some of the best.

Mary at dVerse Poets invites us to reflect on what or who do we miss:

Rumi and You

Once there came to be a cat named Rumi.
He was funny, friendly, bouncy and sleek,
with eyes of green that merged into your soul.
Sometimes he was ours, sometimes just yours.
Laid back but fierce, he could hunt with the best.
His paws no one could touch.

A thought was all it took to connect a touch
between human being and Rumi,
telepathic kitties are the best.
Black and white fur designed him sleek
and he knew intuitively that he was yours.
A spirit sage dwelt within his soul.

Soon his body became taxed but not his soul,
a vet was needed with his learned touch.
A trial was beginning that was yours,
to maintain his health and save your Rumi.
A malady did strike that took his sleek
and challenged him to remain his best.

Balance was found to restore that best,
body came into alignment with his soul;
his ruffled fur once again became sleek.
Cat was back…hadn’t lost his touch.
Our hearts were joyous for our Rumi,
a sigh of relief was mine and yours.

This cat had many more lives than you,
he kicked ass to regain his best.
No better cat for us than Rumi,
salvation was gifted through his soul.
A being of greatness, we were so touched,
he faced hurdles with strength and sleek.

Many long years he lived in sleekness
and never wavered that he was yours.
We were deeply affected by his touch,
those years with him were of the best.
He gave us his purity, his love, his soul,
this superb little being that we called Rumi.

Rumi’s life uplifted our souls and showed us our best.
His sleek countenance was because of your dedication
and your most selfless, loving touch.

I started this poem not too long after Rumi passed away but never finished just the last three lines, the envoi.  This is my tribute to a wonderful companion and my daughter who never gave up…until Rumi was ready to move on.

Tonight is Open Link Night over at dVerse and Bjorn invites us to link up any poem of our choice to share:

Dear Beverly

Decades after I last saw you,
I wrote you a letter but didn’t
know where to send it.
I wanted you to know how
much it meant to me that you
included me in your family.
We met in 7th grade, and
soon discovered that we
were born a day apart at
the same local hospital.
Our mothers were
there at the same time.
We always joked that we
were in adjoining bassinets.

As we got to know each other
better, I started spending
nights or weekends at your house.
I never invited you into my home
in all those years that we were friends.
I was embarrassed and ashamed
at my father’s alcoholism and our
less than adequate living conditions.
I didn’t even know the word for what
my father’s troubles were and I didn’t
have the words or courage to tell you
how deeply it affected me.
And you never asked me why,
perhaps both of us too shy.
But being able to spend time
with you and your family,
even joining you on
vacations, was a nice break
and gave me a sense
of normalcy.

As we got older, we went
on dates together with
guys, you mostly with
Bill, who would end up
being your husband one day
and father of your boy.
Our lives took very different
paths after high school however
and we lost touch. You went on
to become an accomplished
nurse and I went the way of
spirituality and communal life.
Some years later we
reconnected back in Orlando.
You and Bill had divorced and
you were about to marry
another. I found out that
your father had passed
away from Alzheimers
many years prior when
he was in his fifties.
It took him young.

We met one other time
when I learned your
mother had passed,
but we drifted apart
again…never really
regaining the friendship
we had forged before.
And then came the day
I sat in stunned silence
as I read your obituary.
I never found out what had
happened…how your life
had ended. I hadn’t
used the opportunity
to let you know how
much you meant to me.
But I like to think that
love doesn’t have boundaries
and you know how much I cared.
Love, Gayle

I too tweaked the prompt today but this really impacted my life and I wanted to share it. I truly believe that all my loved ones know that I love them.

Our newest team member, Kelly, asks us to write love letters to someone before it’s too late or let someone know that we care for them over at dVerse Poets:

Sweet Dreams

Caught in a haze (not sure if it was purple)
my mind soft…floating…dreamy,
cascades smooooothly.
Colors ping and I hear them as notes
on a scale of 1 to 10 and they spontaneously
create an orchestra of enraptured awareness,
the music composed of streaming images.
I watch from outside of myself but am deeply
curious in the film being played within my
consciousness. Feelings arise, a smile plays
across my face, and a deep longing for my brother.
He appears and sits by my side and love pours
back and forth between us, our eyes beaming
light into infinity…the third spins a mandala.

Playing in a field of dreams with Anthony Desmond at dVerse Poets:

Instead Of

A birth unheralded, shameful, undisclosed
Single parent, if barely that, and poor
Her life already stretched—too much imposed
Her own childhood was bleak with slamming doors
What is there for me, her newborn implores
A spark is lit:  I must be strong and love!
Stand tall, fight against all that I abhor!
Allow gracious good to reign, instead of…

Looked back in the archives and decided to try another huitain for our dVerse Open Link Night.  Grace is our hostess:


Once consumed by love’s façade,
I spiraled low and hit the ground.

Was here before when love was new
but this time loyalty took too much.

It whittled me into a contorted shape,
barely recognizable with a severed heart.

What I thought was true, found was a ruse
…used against, not for benefit.

Oh foolish girl, you believed again
in someone else instead of you.

What pushed aside and hid so deep
your own well being and sense of meaning?

It wasn’t strengthened to take forefront,
not yet developed to ward off peril.

It’s okay, I’m here and stronger, we’ll heal
the wounds that love did hazard.

I’ll comfort you and shore you up,
hold you close and tell your worth.

We won’t allow another time
that undermines our soul to shine.


Mary invites us to be inspired by Leonard Cohen, his poetry and music over at dVerse Poets today.  I always get goosebumps everytime I hear his song “Hallelujah”…so his words helped create mine.

Loving Kindness–A Ghazal

O open-hearted Kindness, reigning peace
Your model of piousness brings me peace
Sacred sweetness emanates, giving freely
Like honey-amber richness, flowing peace
What path may bring you near, I do not mind
Searching, my alertness finds your peace
Your grace shines forth in joyful, loving glory
Mending my brokenness through your peace
Elevated calm permeates my soul
When bathed in happiness by your peace
I beseech thee, O My Beloved Loving One
Surround me in completeness to know peace
May it always be thus between us two
A connectedness, entwining the Rose to peace

Check out tonight’s guidance by Samuel over at dVerse Poets to learn the art of the Ghazal form at our Form-For-All:

Mira’s First Christmas

Photo: Mira's first Christmas!

This is Mira…my granddaughter…this photo was taken on Christmas Day.  Mira was dressed in her red flowered Christmas dress but it was so warm that she didn’t need a blouse under it or the cute tights that her Auntie Mahan had bought for her.  She’s four months old now and I’m enjoying her company three days a week and loving every minute with her.  It seems like every week she’s learning and accomplishing more skills.  She’s trying out all kinds of sounds with her voice…sometimes turning them into “singing”.  She’s a good girl, a delight…I’m so fortunate to be in her company.

Small Stone # 17

I reach out to my sister
this morning…stress is
overwhelming her.
I’ve heard the stories
before.  I must use
restraint and not get
caught up in the drama
or I’ll find myself
feeling the way she does.


My entry for the Mindful Writing Challenge through Writing Our Way Home:

Small Stone # 13

Baby girl # 2
was born today.
I reflect on her
home birth those
many years ago.
A special day,
an incredible girl.
Filled with
gratitude for
the beauty that
is Mahan Lakshmi.

Small Stone Day 13 for the Mindful Writing Challenge at Writing Our Way Home:

Be Comforted, Please

The morning dawned just like the rest
Sun so bright, gentle wind above the crest
But on this day, I am no more
My body gone but my soul does soar
I have a freedom I never knew
Be joyful and glad that I’m anew
I know I am missed, my voice is gone
But your memory of me is never done
Think of my smile and the light in my heart
Eternally enduring, never to part
Our smiles will merge each time you do
Twice as sweet and ever true
The joy I shared with those I loved
Is alive and well—a treasure trove
Be comforted, please, and know this truth
I do not suffer, it’s only you
So cry a bit and mourn my passing
But it’s just a while before we’re meeting
Not so long, you will see
United again, souls flying free

A long-time friend asked me to write some words of comfort for her grieving family.  Her brother and sister-in-law lost their youngest daughter in a car crash early New Year’s Day.  She sent it to the family and they wanted to read it at her memorial service.  I am so honored that my words could bring a little comfort.  I do not know my friend’s family.

Actually I’m not sure if this is a true elegy or not.  I had referred to it as such yesterday in a posting.


                                                                    Photo by Saraswati Rose

This is Mira.  She’s my first grandchild.  She’s two months old.  She and her parents went on a road trip this past week to attend a wedding in South Carolina.  This photo was taken along the way.  She apparently enjoyed the trip and was a good little traveler.

These days I’m spending three days a week with her while her parents are at work.  I LOVE her!

When Young

Photo by Bomobob:  Google Images

When young though ripe for summer’s love of you
Love threw its net enclosing round me fast
Long, golden days spent wading in the blue
While thoughts made blind to what the day had cast

From afar I tracked your every move
With eyes glazed warm laid on your fairest face
Just one, small glance from you, what would this prove
Alone am I within this love’s embrace

But by the near of summer’s glowing wane
My heart grew calm and thoughts changed into fall
Autumn’s shift did cool love’s hot refrain and
With passing days became a faint recall

So if absorbed in love’s consumed engross
A season’s span can bring it to a close

Oh, no, I’m quaking in my boots, Gay instructs us on sonnets today over at dVerse Poets Form For All!  I’m afraid it’s another “Not a Sonnet” for me…sigh…:

Sharing this with Poets United today:


Big Room, 1948,  by Andrew Wyeth

Afternoon light filters the once upon a dreams
Abandoned farmhouse letting go of days gone by
Filled, once, with lives who moved downstream
Memories held fast in the bricks, mortar and beams
There, to recall, with a melancholy sigh
Afternoon light filters the once upon a dreams
Love happened here, as well as sorrowed screams
Lives at once ordinary but somehow gone awry
Filled, once, with lives who moved downstream
All has become sepia-toned, ashen, gone the gleam
Secrets, deceits, untruths, never revealed by-and-by
Afternoon light filters the once upon a dreams
Empty and hollow, a sour taste it would seem
How is it people falter, trip and choose to deny
Filled, once, with lives who moved downstream
This house could have been a home with a melodic theme
Yes, tidy, kept clean, orderly, just so, but lacked an ally
Afternoon light filters the once upon a dreams
Filled, once, with lives who moved downstream

The Mag # 132 :


Photo by:  Lauren G.  Google Images

shells of hue from
bold byzantium,
blushed pinks
to flaxen ginger
shells collected
throughout the years
seashore alive
with endless riches
intimacy with
nature had
us transfixed
by the splendor
laughing gulls and tiny,
blur-legged pipers with
low-swoop-diving pelicans
and sightseeing dolphins

terns and crabs and
skeletons of fishes
on inexhaustible beaches
of diminutive coquina
laid crushed by the millions
sand dollars
sea urchins
and us
floating, bobbing
in the warm, waving gulf
my heart was sated
those days on Captiva
a distant, hazy dream
of carefree days
exploring that island
now departed
by a placid,
slow demise
no longer I
entwined with you

hollow shells where once love grew

Photo:  Google Images; Heron on Captiva Island

Natasha Head tends the pub bar tonight at dVerse Poets:  Everyone is welcome to join in with a poem to share.


On dVerse Poets we’re invited by Sam to write a form poem that does not appear to be a form.  I tried my hand at an elegy.

Shocking grief you’ve made me lost
Alive yet dead, my heart is crushed
My eyes are longer see
Your visage departed, breaking parts of me
Distress down deep claws at my bones
Spring vining green turned withered stone
Interests declined as so did you
I languish forlorn in a world askew
You were my life, a radiant light
Held high aloft so my path wound bright
Wickedly clever, intelligent and quick
A candle burning with an endless wick
But your brilliant glow has been obscured
Consuming dissolution has me floored
Suffering madly, I feel only separation
Gone my lover, passion, adoration
May I forever remember your gentle excellence
That guided my nature, character and strength
Leaving me gifts that nourish my soul
Your undying goodness does offer console

Stone Flowers

Stone Flowers (Photo credit: elycefeliz)


Photo by Gayle Rose

Sunflower in my garden; photo by Gayle Rose

emerging calm
took a stand
reigned and
I felt good

within and
feeling sure
life was
me along

though one
thing dark
was lurking
still and
causing grief
and a cracking
yet I knew
I could not
change, I
let it go
to take
its time

writing latent
no interest
yet, but a
book picked
up, laid
a spark

went on
like never
and places
up north

time of
and becoming
solid, vipassana
was my
morning daily,
content with
life, work
was good,
I took care
of me and
I loved you

dVerse Poetics offers 1999:

Giving and Receiving

There was a time,
in those early days, 
when I couldn’t sit
close enough to you.
I would press myself
against you tight and
still I felt too far away.

I stared up at your
profile and admired
the perfect view of
your face and mused
on what you may
be thinking.

We talked and laughed,
shared and listened.

I met you at one of
my lowest points.
But I was on a
quest for finding
myself again and
was making small
steps toward my

As I set forth
the intention to
find my strength,
people showed
up to offer theirs.

You were one
who fell in place
to help me up.
You took the hand
that was reaching
out and you
generously gave–
and you still do.

An entry today for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads  and dVerse Poets Open Link Night

A Few Words

Heart Candle

Image by Bob.Fornal via FlickrI

I was so touched by your gesture;
do you know what it meant to me?
A few words said so sincerely,
leaving my heart so enraptured–
moments before my departure.
My soul soared with the meaning,
I felt joy for new beginnings.
A whole new journey before me,
now full with possibility,
all because of sweet murmurings.

Decima form

Imaginary Garden With Real Toads asks us to write a love (or anti-love) poem for Valentine’s Day–I’m re-posting this one that I wrote last year:





Piano Keys warm

Image via Wikipedia

Rhythmic urgings
would emerge as I
watched your sensitive
fingers flicker effortlessly
over the keys of the piano.
Just the fact that you  

were so agile and adept
and the ease of which it
flowed, made my heart
ignite, the same way
you lit the instrument.

Your guitar playing
was an equal source of
feelings.  At times tears
would pool in my eyes
as you played ragas of
ancient India, the run of
notes flying through the
air as they took flight
from the strings.  The
tempo transmuting my
breath to sospirando

Equally blessed on
the harmonium and
tablas, you quickly
became skilled at
accompanying kirtan
with either instrument.
Each played with great
expertise by your vast
background of musical
knowledge and innate
sense of scale and meter.

Those were days of
love, romance and seeing
the beauty that was you. 

Alas, muta!

Write2Day–Music and the Written Word:

My Dear Little Man

When I come to visit, I seek you out.
Catching sight of you, my delight takes flight. 

A glance my way, a tiny smile flickers,
You’re a little bit shy–not quite certain.

Yes! I still love you and I always will!
You needn’t doubt, I’m on your side,
To make you happy is my aim.
To see you smile and feel secure,
Brings me joy–let’s play a game! 

You’re the best and I mean it,
You’re a bright, shining light,
Who warms my heart
And tickles me inside. 

Please know this, Nicholas,
My dear little man,
Auntie Gayle loves you,
You can count on me forever!

Nicholas is my nephew’s son.  I really do light up when I’m around him.  He is such a blessing.

Write2Day–Writing from the Light:

Two Little Girls

Two little girls were a part of my world;
they were consuming, yet so endearing.
Waking up to their sweet babbles,
my heart was totally over brimming.

All the tasks that went into mothering
were not work at all but many blessings.
My soul delighted in all the giving but got
much more through those sweet eyes.

You looked to me with trusting eyes,
I held that trust with sacred love.
I treasured the time spent caring for you,
the most precious period of my life. 

The years went by so fast it seems,
sometimes it’s almost like a dream.
So many special moments recalled,
a wealth of joy and you growing tall.

Celebrations, gifts and festivities
were so much more fun shared with you.
Your giggles charmed and brought a smile,
My pride in you I hope you knew. 

My protective prayer is with you both;
may love surround and keep you safe.
Even though you’re women grown,
You’re still my girls, my dearest ones.

My entry for Gooseberry Garden’s Poetry Picnic 16:  My Life in Free Verse;

The Lonely Recluse

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Michael S Marsters

The official blog. Copyright 2007-2021. All rights reserved.

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This is my journey, my thoughts, my views, plain and simple and from my heart. Please travel with me and share, hopefully it will be an interesting trip.


copyright 2013 - no reuse without permission ( see for fiction and fantasy )

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~ Dragon's Dreams ~

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