hunky valentine 2One homemade heart
trimmed in frilly,
white lace…

One arrow
one promise
of a sweet,
warm embrace…

Once its notched,
and trained
on his chosen bullseye,
Cupid first,
blows a kiss,
and then
~~~ fly ~~~

Continue reading

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Even though the winter storms in Northern California are very different from those in Brooklyn, New York…

winter collage

…they can make for a rather grey, dismal, and dreary day. Continue reading

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Out of all the tickers that stopped at precisely 12:15 pm, Alastair Hoodwink managed to squeeze a few more seconds from his for a last word with his son Malcolm…

“When the world literally begins to fade into a blank canvas, rest assured, the end is nigh.”


The artist’s final thoughts, whispered in Malcolm’s elfin ear moments before he expelled his last tobacco laced breath, would normally have Continue reading

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51ZWVmpx8uLAlice Wetherby Pimms had a penchant for collecting governesses. Of her many peculiarities, this was perhaps the most curious, for in the first seven and three-quarter years of her young life, shipping magnate Roderick Pimms’ only child had procured precisely eleven of them. Rounding up, this would make it an average of 1.5 nannies in a twelve month period that had been employed to entertain the girl’s every whim. Imagine half a nanny. It conjures a frightful image, does it not? Nonetheless, many have attributed the ladies’ dismissals to Alice’s love of P. L. Travers fictitious character Mary Poppins.

This may clarify the child’s constant dissatisfaction with them; however, it does not explain their disappearance once they’d been terminated.

Now I’m sure you’re questioning Continue reading

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sad donna ornament‘Twas just before Christmas,
when the Grinch played his part.
His slim, furry fingers fouled
my holiday’s start
by pointing out the turmoil bubbling up
in our world-
the hatreds,
the judgements,
the greed that had unfurled.

Indeed, ’twas too late,
for neither laugh nor smile,
would ward off the Humbug cloud forming
in true Ebenezer Scrooge style…

‘Twas the night between the longest and the Most Holy Eve Continue reading

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The Inner/Outer Writing Paradox (Or, From an Old Oak Desk in New England)

Writers write. Right? Author Michael S. Fedison nails the paradoxical reality that fuels many of us…


Where is your special place, the place where you block out the clutter and noise and distractions, and let your creative energy flow?

Mine is an old oak desk that my father used to use when he was a student in school, decades ago.  It’s solid, heavy, and not designed for the accoutrements of 21st-century digital technology.  But it’s my little oasis to think and dream and create.


My father actually passed the desk on to me while I was still living with my parents, a high school student with my eyes peeled toward the future, the promise of ten thousand tomorrows, of horizons to be explored and aspirations realized.  We are old friends, my desk and I.  The oak is scarred in spots, dented in others, victim to the long passage of time and the elements.  But the imperfections merely serve to make it more approachable, more real, more

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I miss you already.

Once the light is out and the room is silent,
I will miss you even more.

“Remember the time…” fills the house already.

Once the light is out and the house is silent
I will remember you even more…


Like how you taught me to pause, take a deep breath, and jump to find my joy Continue reading

Posted in ADVENTURES, EVENTS, FAMILY, LUCY and JAZZIE, POEMS | Tagged , , , , , , , | 29 Comments