Honey Love

Too much honey i poured straight from the jar

telling myself it would make things sweeter

how the taste would linger deep in my throat

poison to swallow when my love is far


give too much honey myself and I’m weaker

find a balance on this menu of love

sweet and sour are good combinations

let it bind in robust flavor for two


My love is greater with the right antidote

not one or the other but a nice mix

all ingredients combined in a bowl

stirred into an harmonious union


Too much honey can spoil the batter

love is a complex evolving matter


NaPoWriMo Day 9 to write a love sonnet

Honey Love


My grandbaby held my right pointer finger while she was sleeping. Her little digits wrapped around and then she squeezed and she is only one week old and already trying to lift her head. She held my finger for at least an hour while I rocked her in the giraffe chair. I wanted her to wake up so we could play. I wanted to sing Winnie the Pooh to her and read her a story.

When you are so small it is hard to get your pajamas to fit right. They keep riding up under your chin and I keep pulling them down, trying to adjust the bootie footed legs of the pajamas. It is possible to protect your chin from any chafing of a poor fit. What will we do tomorrow when your pjs fit perfectly?

listen little heart

count each breath in this moment

sneeze burp hiccup smile


dVerse prompt to write a haibun and use the word heart


Love to My Dog

How do I love thee!? Let me count the ways. from Elizabeth Barrett Browning

How do I love thee? I love thee unequivocally. Let no man deny true friendship with a dog. How do I love thee? With undeniable comradery. I seek no other desire but to walk with you everyday as you pull on the leash and sniff so boldly. How do I love thee? With double blessings to have you in my life against all odds of never having another pet. Your nickname Never Again. How do I love thee? With every passion welled up inside of me as you sit so earnestly for a treat. How do I love thee? Robustly and vigorously while scratching you behind the ears as you greet me at the door. How do I love thee? Undeniably.


A love poem for NaPoWriMo Day 10.

Love to My Dog

Born With a Mark

to Anna


you were born

with a birthmark—

red heart

below your heart

a longing-mark

of how your mother

wanted love—

to give love

and to take it


NaPoWriMo Day 2 prompt to choose an obscure and interesting English word. I used “longing-mark”— a newborn babe’s birth mark said to take on the shape of something desired by the mother. This was an actual mark on my first born.

Born With a Mark

In Mother’s Room

I am in my mother’s room. It was the kitchen. Here she was the boss. The pots and pans were hers, the dishes, all the ingredients that fed the family. She kept us together with her mashed potatoes, green beans and meat loaf.

She nourished us with sweets made each Sunday. She poured the cereal of life into us each morning and sometimes when it was 20 below zero outside, she called from the kitchen, “Jane, French toast is ready.”


dVerse prompt to write from a first line of a novel. I used Samuel Beckett’s “I am in my mother’s room.”

In Mother’s Room

Facebook Love

Facebook knows more about me

than I know about myself

it wants to embrace me

within its algorithms

show me my next vacation

what I should buy

based on my last search

who my friends really are

in a bombardment

of information and disinformation


dVerse quadrille prompt using the word embrace

honing down on my love/hate relationship with Facebook

Facebook Love