As untouchable as the bluest sky.

As far away as the stars at night.

But, I sense you with the flutter of a butterfly…

Flying by me in the morning light.


As untouchable as the moon glistening…

On the stillness of a tranquil lake.

But, I hear you when I’m listening…

To the subtle sounds when I’m awake.


As untouchable as the suns bright glare…

Warming the beaches golden sand.

But, I feel you beside me there,

As the sand trickles from my hand.


Untouchable for my remaining existence…

Until our hearts meet again one day.

I know you will be waiting there in the distance.

Untouchable… but helping me find my way.


Photo: Unsplash



Tiny Bird


Pounding the sidewalk to do my shopping,

Today in the cold drizzling rain and on my phone.

I hardly noticed a tiny bird on the sidewalk,

Frantically looking around scared and alone.


I popped into the store for a couple of things.

I came out expecting him to be long gone.

My eyes scanned the shopping center,

For a shrub, tree, or the tiniest strip of lawn.


I scooped him up in my cradled hands,

Loving how soft and fragile he was to the touch.

I prayed he wouldn’t try to fly and fall with his

Hurt wing, but he didn’t flap his wings very much.


I carried him around the corner where I noticed,

Several large potted plants outside a sandwich shop.

Laying him in the dirt amongst green plants he seemed content.

And my heart was filled with joy for having made that stop.


My birthday wish is for the tiny bird to heal and fly.

—Soaring high into the clear blue skies.



This happened on my birthday yesterday. I’ve never held a bird,

what a wonderful present. Linking with The Sunday Muse.



Harlequin Headaches



Breaking in this biz sure isn’t easy.

All the mystery of magic has been…

—Well, there’s no big illusion here.

The most famous —have always been men.


Listen up… my magical sisters.

I plan to break this gender hurdle.

Even if I keep getting harlequin headaches,

From this darn cat and extremely tight girdle.


Linking with the Sunday Muse


Photo: Source

The Tornado





                                                   Like a rapidly rotating tornado, the boy

                                                      twirls on the ground kicking up dirt.

                                                           His imagination is completely

                                                               lost in the cumulonimbus

                                                                   war clouds. Wildly

                                                                    twisting beheading,

                                                                         the lilies, with

                                                                               the swirling

                                                                                  debris of a




                                                               Not even a grandmothers voice can

                                                                   penetrate, the tornados deep

                                                                    rumbling roaring noise. Finally

                                                                         the warm air that fed the

                                                                           tornado cools down          

                                                                             from cooler surface

                                                                                winds, and filled

                                                                                  the funnel with

                                                                                     Kool-Aid air

                                                                         and cookie                                 

                                                                                       clouds. The






Young lovers touch under an azure sky.

They close their eyes to sleep.

Awaken to reflections in the lucid stream.

—They see a love so deep.


Serendipity led them on a gravel path,

To a paradise, they’d never seen before.

Life ultimately led them on separate paths.

—They had much more to explore.


Photo: Unsplash

Linking with Imaginary Gardens with Real Toads

Get Listed: Lucid, touch, sleep, gravel.

Zona Del Silencio (Zone of Silence)

sign (2)

Remote, and like any other vast menacing terrain.

Abundant scrub brush, and naked cacti thick with thorns;

Thorns that leave blood sopping down slit flesh.

Poisonous creatures that slither on the dry cracked earth.


But in this desolate patch of the desert, there is an abundance,

of an unexplained phenomenon as strange as some other planet.

Anyone brave enough to venture there reports a deep uneasiness.

—A mysterious place.


A place where you might encounter a strange trio,

tall, blonde, and dressed unsuitably for a desert environment.

Speaking Spanish flawlessly with a slightly musical lilt.

When asked: Where are you from?


Their response: “From above”


A place with an abundance of meteor strikes, one of the

highest concentrations in the world.

And, constant showers of small metallic orbs,

that locals call guíjolas.


In this Chihuahuan desert, there is an abundance,

of stories of glowing ominous lights, UFO’s,

mutant animals, and of course no signals,

of any kind, can travel through there.

NO TV; NO radio; NO microwave; NO signals.

—NO form of communication.


You’re traveling through another dimension,

A dimension not only of sight and sound but, of mind.

A journey into a wondrous land whose boundaries are that of imagination.

That’s the signpost up ahead – your next stop,

The Zone of Silence!


The last paragraph (except for the last line) is, of course,

a quote from Rod Serling’s popular TV series “The Twilight Zone.”

I loved it growing up and I still watch the reruns occasionally.


I came across a fascinating article about the Chihuahuan desert,

in Northern Mexico, about 400 miles South of El Paseo, Texas.

“The Zone of Silence”. It had an abundance of strangeness, which I loved.


Linking with Poets United. Susan’s Midweek Motif – “Abundance”




Photo: Source

I Swallowed Deception


A good love potion is only as good as the witch who makes it.

—She was highly recommended.

“An old secret recipe”, she said.

I’d be as sweet as vanilla… passionately hot as cinnamon.

He would be mine… forever devoted to me,

forever in my bed.


She mixed dried jasmine, dried red rose petals,

cinnamon sticks, a splash of red wine.

Ginseng root, a must… for lust! A vanilla pod split.

I dozed off at that point. —I don’t remember much except…

waking in her candlelit lab anxious to buy it! So, I bought it.


—I bought it!

I was supposed to give it! He was supposed to drink it!

But she wickedly bewitched me! —I wound up with an uncontrollable thirst.

—She was highly recommended.

I guess he got there first!


 Linking with The Sunday Muse


Linking with Poets United


Photo: Source