Wednesday, November 17

Unleashing the Poet Within

A few new poems by yours truly written at a retreat led by Nevin Comptom Trammell.

The Irregular Heart

The irregular heart
knows not the confines
of chamber walls or rhythms
of the lub-dub doctrine

Look there, in the corner
where pigments swirl
birthing a fifth chamber

an irregular heart
made new
for a new way
a new day
a new doctrine


A mirror image lies
beneath the soaring boughs
of a white oak tree

it's astounding,
the luxury of it all

as golden hues of fallen
and to be fallen
compete for my gaze

it's reminiscent,
the duplicity of summer

when crepe myrtles
drop their pink petticoats
on the floor

rushing into another season


A Journey in Two Stanzas

on a journey
with words suspended,
between the lines
old thoughts upended

hands moving cautiously
left to right,
voices give wings
words take flight

Monday, November 15

Ma'am...Excuse me Ma'am

I'm standing at the Kangaroo Mart in Ashland City pumping gas, minding my own business and this disembodied voice floats over my head from behind. I don't know, I must have been daydreaming because I realized he'd said it several times before I turned to see an aged black man handing me a business card. His pea green cap was emblazoned with "Koren War Veteran" along the crisp creased side.

I look down at the business card. It read:

Cremation or Burial

Like I said, I was daydreaming so it didn't sink in. It was the words "Beloved Pet" on the facsimile of a headstone that did it, sort of like a lightening bolt.

I looked at Mocha's sweet brown face peering out the open car window, looked down at the business card in my hand and a little piece of me died.

Thursday, November 4

Beaufort Ghost Tour

On our way to Beaufort, we couldn't resist stopping for this photo op at the Gay Fish Co. in Port Royal.

Have mercy! This Southern Belle is draped over the porch railing of the oldest home in Beaufort, SC. This is just one of the ghostly residents portrayed on the annual Ghost Tour. We traveled by horse-drawn carriage beneath ancient live oak trees dripping with Spanish moss. As daylight turned to dusk all manner of creatures greeted us with their tales of whoa and sorrow.

Unfortunately, we weren't allowed entrance to any of the stately homes on the tour. At the pace our horse took, we had ample opportunity to peak in the windows!

Many of the homes were for sale. Word to the wise, the annual upkeep would soon surpass the purchase price, so make sure your pockets are very, very deep and full of coin.