A Sevenling

A Sevenling* for this week’s Twiglet


Sevenling (it doesn’t matter)

It doesn’t matter what’s outside.
Overpopulated metropolis; a gazillion
grains of sand; a continental rain forest.

Everything happens inside. You can’t
shut it off. You can’t run or hide.
You know you have to write it down.

Open your windows; let it all out.

*Not familiar with the Sevenling form? You can read all about it HERE.
Fair Warning: Addictive
Tuesday Twiglet #247
~ a busy window ~


Bring It On

It’s Quadrille Monday again at the dVerse Poets Pub; time to create a 44-word poem. This week, we’re asked to create a poem using the word “Stone” or some form thereof. 

Thanks to De Jackson (aka WhimsyGizmo) for hosting and getting us started.


Bring It On

I guess, if given the choice,
I’d prefer words to warfare

sticks to stones
bullets to bombs
knives to arrows
fists to middle fingers

anything that brings
combatants closer together,
lets them see the damage done.

Or maybe just pipe in some Peace Gas.

dVerse Poets Pub
Quadrille Monday #137
~ Throwing Poem Stones ~



What a co-inky-dinky, eh?  I woke up & started doing my Morning Pages. The following was part of what flowed. Then, a little later, I open up Miz Quickly’s Octoberfest & she says I should post it.  So….



He was halfway through the second rinse phase
of his lather-rinse-repeat Sunday morning shower
when his brother John showed up again, as usual,
speaking to him through the shower curtain,
urging him to just keep right on singing along,
telling him that even though they’re truly brothers
they’re both the same guy, like it or not; telling him
for the millionth time that at least one of them
is really the egg man, one of them is the walrus.

Miz Quickly’s Octoberfest #4
~ friends stick around ~



Lookit It 


When I posted this (these?) poem(s?) I was sure I could hear some alleged rabbit, laughing sadistically. 


Lookit It

I know it’s pretty far down there
but you can still see it, right? Maybe
stand a little closer to the edge or
break out the binoculars. They don’t
chrome-plate ‘em like that anymore.

Maple. That’s what my Mama told me
before I learned to read. Now I know better.
They were never made of maple.
Most of them are still around, though.
My first one’s right over there. Look.

Miz Quickly’s Octoberfest #3
~ not an orange ~


The New Echolalia

Originally published almost a decade ago (November 2011) in the (now defunct) online poetry journal Every Day Poets, and re-presented here, fresh from the pantry…


The New Echolalia

Whatever I ever say to her
she repeats back perfectly.

I think you’re beautiful, I say;
she tells me I should trim my beard.

I tell her how much I love her.
She reminds me to take my pills.

She gives me a kiss
when I bring her coffee.

Poets and Storytellers United
Writers’ Pantry #90

poets and storytell

Land Of Ahhhhs


Oh, you know she’ll gladly face us
once she laces up the laces
and she kicks away her blues

and we’ll all be glad to see her
and we’ll wish that we could be her
in her magical red shoes

Though the sidewalk’s kinda gritty
her ankle socks are pretty
(her legs are shapely, too!)

She don’t hafta to be a dancer
‘cuz she’s always got an answer:
She just points down at her shoes.

And we
can plainly see
she wears them like a queen
the coolest shoes that we have ever seen
we weep and moan
and want our own

All our shoes are black and brownish
and they make us feel so clownish
as we pay our daily dues

and our jealousy will fry us
as we watch her walking by us
in her magical red shoes

The author “sings” this ditty:


Miz Quickly’s Octoberfest #2
~ image ~




These are the rules
she said
disregard the whole shebang
or follow your heart
like it didn’t really matter.

It didn’t.
So he did.

Miz Quickly’s Octoberfest



Last Communion

“I’ll fix them,” he thought,
fixing them in the scope’s crosshairs. 

Mere seconds later, the lesson
ended. No one asked questions.

He was, he told himself,
finally and fully understood.

He had spoken; if not eloquently,
at least indisputably, unequivocally.

His audience was hushed, breathless.
Sirens in the distance sang him home.

He prepared to eat his own words.

dVerse Poets
Open Link Night


Ron.’s In The Red Wolf x2

wolf change

I sent a few (4) poems to Red Wolf Journal in response to the submission call for works related to their A Change of World theme. Selected poems will be published on a rolling basis at RWJ, and some will be chosen for a Spring 2022 anthology. 

I don’t know how I missed it, but I discovered this morning that they published one piece (Looking Glass) yesterday and a second piece (Qi) this morning!

I’m extremely grateful to Editor Irene Toh for selecting my work(s) and will keep fingers crossed for the other two. I’ll keep you all posted.

Meanwhile, you can

Read Looking Glass Here
Read Qi Here

I’ve had more than a dozen pieces published (and later anthologized!) by Red Wolf Journal over the years. If you’re interested, I’ve collected them and you can read them ALL here:

Read ALL Of Ron.’s Red Wolf Journal Successes



A Shadorma (3-5-3-3-7-5), offered up for this week’s P/SU Weekly Scribble, where Rosemary asks us to indulge ourselves in a bit of realism, capturing something as it is in such a way that the reader sees something bigger.




She was gone.
He still wore the ring.
Gold. Golden.
But better.
Even after all these years
more than just a ring.

Poets and Storytellers United
Weekly Scribble #89
~ Keeping It Real  ~

poets and storytell