Storyteller’s Peace


Storyteller’s Peace 

you were king 

of the Zoo Crew – 

the wildest of the 



high school 

Animal House gang

of the 1980s 

every teacher dreaded

you were class clown 

you drive me to school 

once in your 2-door

running Eddie Palmer on foot 

up against a chain-link fence 

further taunting 

an already troubled kid 

who held up a bank 

through bullet proof glass 

a few years later 

you were a bully 

you said you’d gone 

in the store at the circle

for a pack of cigarettes 

and left your car running 

but heard the click 

of the pistol 

against your head 

the minute your 

barefoot butt

hit the seat 

to drive away – 

your abductor 

behind you –

and everyone tried 

to believe you 

but no one ever could 

you were a storyteller 

so many holes 

in your tales 

but the marriage 

was a cruel front –

a good friendship 

that went past a first kiss 

and trapped you 

in a world of walls 

you couldn’t escape 

you never came out 

            but we always knew 

in the end

     a storyteller

         finds peace 

Roll With It


Roll With It

I fell out of some of

the trees I climbed 

as a kid in the ‘70s

and also off one roof.

I slammed my finger 

in a car door,

was thrown off a horse,

and was hit

by a car 

and lived.

My mama missed 

the squirrel and 

ricochet-shot me 

when I swung between 

her and the

moving target. 

I also got my ass beat 

when I deserved it

and I learned to move on. 

So thank God I don’t 

require the use 

of a bidet 

at every sitting 

for a too-tender tush. 

I wouldn’t want to be 

one of those 

Princess-and-the-Pea types

whose world 

falls apart 


cheap toilet paper. 

Whispered Promises


Whispered Promises 

How do we find ourselves

of no certain roof or

means of dwelling in the

event of the unfortunate 

loss of love or 

end of opportunity?

Smart women don’t trust whispered promises – 

smart women plan. 

Mother’s Day Gift


Mother’s Day Gift

A mirroring nonette


you could

also have 

your mother with

you this Mother’s Day,”

one of my prize children

wrote on the gift card greeting

that arrived with a small square box

“Embrace the journey,” the box lid read

she’d lately taken up birdwatching

and discovered redbird lore: how 

departed loved ones appear

“I am always with you,”

the card inside said

I opened it:

a redbird



Hippie Camp Haiku


Hippie Camp Haiku

Tasters Choice coffee

honey granola yogurt

breakfast, healthy-style

jeans and tie-dyed shirt 

no makeup, dry shampoo day

journal by campfire

feeding fat squirrels

‘70s music groovin’

hip flower-child style 

picnic on mountain

tomato sandwich, pickles 

valley view below 

hammock hugging trees

rescue dog sacked out with me

Birkenstocks touch sky

beeswax candle glows

fairy light tree casts aura

lanterns, hippie-style

stress-free mellowing

toasting marshmallows fireside 

peace, love, and camping

A Matriarch Haiku


A Matriarch Haiku

Campsite 304 

F D Roosevelt State Park

Pine Mountain, Georgia 

Keystone Outback packed 

Fairy lights bright, glowing 

matriarch’ spirits 

time to remember 

those whose legacies I am 

many shoes to wear! 

camping, sewing, and 

cooking, birdwatching 

fascinating women 

who was the writer? 

which ones were introverted? 

I am their patchwork quilt! 

A Mug Hug Haiku


A Mug Hug Haiku 

a teacher gift the

year before the accident 

that claimed his young life 

a cup of coffee 

from my Jacob mug brought a

tearful smile each time

nine years now, chips and 

cracks – signs of age, wear and tear

remembering him

watching his brothers 

grow, seeing their resemblance 

blond hair, handsome boys

his chair empty at 

his high school graduation 

as classmates filed past 

parents whose faith stands

firm – thanking God for the time

they shared together

knowing they will join

him in Heaven when their time

on Earth is finished 

precious keepsakes and 

treasures held near to their hearts

until lightning struck 

house a total loss –

“It was just a house,” Dad said,

and taught the next day

things can be replaced 

in a way that sons cannot

fire did not steal joy 

yet a mother’s heart 

longs for handprints of her child 

things that he once touched  

and then a whisper 

to wrap the mug with a bow

from Jacob to Mom

a Mother’s Day gift

from a son who died too soon

mug hug from Heaven

Hidden Yogurt Haiku


Hidden Yogurt Haiku

He’s been “missing out”

on his “ten o’clock yogurt”

because “I hid it!” 




I’m gonna “own up.”

I wish to be one who’d “hide 

yogurt” – – not candy! 

Picasso Journal Haiku


Picasso Journal Haiku

I was going to 

write in green ink….. but then I

picked up the blue pen

I want some breakfast

…but need the mindset of a

brunch and lupper plan

I’m going to work 

…but I’d rather be camping

writing by the fire

A redbird bracelet 

keeps my late mother at hand

…in my heart always

I’d rather wear my 

Birkenstocks to work today

…but I’ll wear my Clarks…

Air conditioner 

repair finished yesterday

…coffee once again! 

WiFi out, struck by 

lightning….I’m disconnected

lost deep in the woods

My days seem like those

Picasso paintings…all slant

and tilted and skewed

If Picasso had 

been a poet….would he have

written in fragments? 

Footwork Haiku


Clocklike Footwork Haiku


school-office workout 

non-stop on-the-clock lock-step fanciful footwork 


knocking about town 

bottoms of feet locked to my Birkenstock cork-tops 


lounging about house 

worn out, both feet propped on my olive ottoman 


lolling on campground

feet dropping from my hammock 

clock stopped for re-stock