It’s Your Lucky Day Spa



I’m relaxing on a luxurious bed in a semi-private room at the “It’s Your Lucky Day Spa”. The last thing I remember, it was dusk and I was on the final stretch of a trail located in The Great Smokey Mountains. I slowly pull the warm towel down past my right eye. Lying on the bed across the room is a very pretty lady covered in a glowing body mask. On closer inspection, I’m also lavishly covered in the radiant substance. Betty the owner is, in fact, a lightning bug. She is tall and slender and walks around on a pair of her six legs. Betty has beautiful wings but her abdomen is her best feature. She clearly works out on a regular basis and the flirty flicker from her abdomen proves it. She’s one beautiful beetle and she rejuvenates your body and mind with lightning speed. That is what it says on the salon menu framed on the wall. She tells me “I do declare you have wonderful skin and you are as cute as a button”. I am flattered and can feel my face flush a little. There are two hair stylists in the next room. They are lovely young ladies cutting and perming hair while gossiping with their clients. Apparently, Rosa one of the patrons is having hard times with her husband Tom of twenty years. Hannah the stylist and Rosa are hashing through all the sorted details and Rosa seems relieved to have Hannah listen to her. Another stylist Rita walks into the room to ask Betty where she has stashed the extra perm solution. “Don’t have a hissy fit, honey, It’s in the bottom row of cabinets on the right” squeaks Betty. And with those words from Betty, I’m off the trail at my car in the parking lot. I notice my skin is radiant and glowing and does, in fact, feel rejuvenated. I have a ravenous craving for a slimy slug or perhaps a worm or snail. Under the windshield wiper blade is a flyer for the “It’s Your Lucky Day Spa” with a twenty percent off coupon for a service of your choice and a lovely photo of Betty.


This was for Telling Tales with Magaly’s Magical Realism Prompt at Poets United. It was so much fun! Photo: Getty Images.



Leave the City


Discovering a flower farm.

Savoring the warmth of the sun,

Illuminating a rainbow of petals…

In the bed of an old work truck.

I stood there as if I were still nine.

Not moving an inch.

I suddenly felt…

No, I always felt whenever I was around flowers,

Like I had just inhaled…

An exhilarating breath of fresh air.

Just one of the many reasons to leave the city.


Photo: Source

For the Sunday muse.

What is Love?



What? A pop quiz?

What is love? To cut a long story short…

Is it treats?

Okay… okay – well… um…

Love cares about everyone – everything.

Love knows we are all interconnected.

Love knows when one loves others;

It also loves oneself.

This is the true nature of love.

Love can’t be influenced or confined.

Love has no boundaries;

Therefore, you can find love everywhere.

Love is naturally kind and empathetic.

Love speaks out for injustice.

Love allows anger and pain,

To be communicated and freed.

Love cannot be bought and sold.

Love floats around free to give and receive.

Love cannot be planned;

Therefore, we are often surprised by love.

Love is all of this and so much more.

Okay, we good? Um… treats are love too.

Yep, I love treats – you love giving me treats.

I highly recommend love and treats.


For Poets United Wednesday Platform… Love.

Photo: Pinterest


Pesky Pear Tree



Hey you – yeah, you.

Put down that brush loaded up…

with golden ochre acrylic paint.

Relax – fill your coffee cup.


I have a tree story to tell.

One that will make you fear…

Those lovely Bradford Pear blossoms,

That I’m about to smear.


Yes, they may be pretty.

A sterile ornamental tree.

Unfortunately, with just themselves…

and now most people will agree.


To never plant these trees.

If it’s not enough – you will never see a single pear.

The havoc that they’ll spread…

Will be more than we can bear.


Here is the link where I got the idea for this

Poem for The Sunday Muse and for Poetry Pantry.

Happy Sunday.  😊Photo: Source

She Shook Her Loose Feathers Free

piano girl


She found her spirit dimming.

Then determination surged…

Within her heart and veins,

Until joy emerged.


Vibrations of spirit soared.

Colliding with distant stars.

A sprinkling of sparkle…

Swapped for mental scars.


Her mind perched as the eagle.

Steady gaze – a turquoise sea.

Peace of graceful waves.

Tides of emotions flee.


She seized a tranquil silence.

Paused to hear the melody.

She’d finally unfurled her wings…

And shook her loose feathers free.


Photo: Source

Jesus Came Between Us



Jesus came between us a few days ago.

I sit and watch you brood – about what?

I guess… I will never know.


It has always been my greatest fear.

Living with your echoes of emptiness.

You always make sure I hear.


You mumble to yourself – shake your head.

Refuse to communicate out loud.

And always leave the loving words unsaid.


You make it very hard to forgive.

Still, I begin each new day happy.

It is how I choose to live –


You’re mostly vigilant on the razor’s edge.

Letting anger come between us.

I’m done, my love – now, Jesus drives the wedge.


 Photo: Unsplash


blue feather

Did they think there were no women warriors?

Fox… did they think only men could have bravery?

Did they not see my cunning abilities?

When they forced their laws and beliefs on our people…

Did they think I would surrender to their demands?

They should have seen the fierceness in my eyes.

They thought they would take our structures and lands,

And force our people into slavery without a fight.

We joined forces and fought a good fight for freedom.

We may not have won the war, fox —

We may lie bleeding courage here in the final battle…

But we stood against brutal aggression.

Rising and falling – we will be remembered.

Do you see it, fox? The moon gate?

It is time to shed our swords and helmets.

It is time to shed our earthly skin – gain our ethereal wings.

Soon we will be on the garden side of life.

Soon we’ll lie our bruised bodies about the mossy knoll.

Our ears will only hear the soothing stream.

Our eyes will rest on the forget-me-nots in the green meadows.

Soon our hearts will be as light as butterflies – our story will live on.


Photo: “Guardian” by Chie Yoshii