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I write poetry about love and loss, what I observe, experience, and pine for. I’m an acrobat, yogi & mom. My writing has been described as resiliently defiant.
Photo by Modern Gallery The Void/Flowers of Life

Panties and dark chocolate an aphrodisiac

A prose poem

Photo by Pawel Czerwinski on Unsplash

I could pen you a sonnet
a love song, a ballad
stamp a brilliant sleeve of
lyrics atop your skin

vibrant verses bubbling ink
so psychedelic that
Juliet will spread her wings
to soar past the Milky Way

for a rendezvous on
the moon with Romeo
staking a claim like gold
on her rosy bosom before

that fatal act of
twisted fate, instead
an angel’s choir will hum lullabies
upon Juliet’s incipient child

your voice like those
hymns turn my river red
in a plague of love
your Tigris watering my Euphrates

in our garden of paradise
when you squeeze my…

03 April 2021 Saturday Poetry Prompt: say that again?

Photo by David Clode on Unsplash

once he summoned the nerve to square-up and declare himself, upon opening his mouth, cloudy cat’s-eye marbles and blue morpho butterflies spilled from his pressed lips- Barry Dawson IV “Tasty Quid Pro Quo”

Spilling from his pressed lips
Malbec lingering on his palette
grazing her soft skin
lingua like butterflies tickling her muse
fluttering a cerulean rainbow
arching across domed dark skies

sprinkling locution as
her albino soul effloresced
effortlessly sprouting wings
magnificent dragon feathers
sweet like vermouth
propagating dulcet gem-tones

sketching sanguine lyrics
drip, drip dropping
in and out of her blank pages
seeing past marbled eyes
painting her alabaster soul
a crystal so…

Let everyday be Monday

Photo by Kym MacKinnon on Unsplash

Blue me a love song
polka dot my soul
with this Ombre shade of hope
hum sapphire lullabies
I can see as I slumber
in that Indigo hour
before midnight escorts
me into your arms, my love.


Confetti me a gala
periwinkle my heart with
a dash of skyblue
where our familiar dance sprinkles
cornflower balloons
from the heavens
every pop a giggle
of joy, my love.


Needle me a spruce
simmer my journey
to that once in a blue moon
let everyday be Monday
nourish my mind and body
with your Crayola treasure trove
as I scale the summit
of your heart, my…

What Type of Plant Would I Be?

Photo by Toni Reed on Unsplash

If I were a rose
I’d open up and bloom
through clouds shaped like pillows
on my journey to the moon

Or an erect sunflower
seizing every star I find
playing hopscotch made of sunrays
then basking in your light

A willow
weeping wildly
on my knees on my knees
imploring ever softly
why oh why
oh why please

A yellow daisy donning hope
on my sleeve
just for you
every petal a fragrant longing
for our love tried and true

Slippery seaweed
wet and naked
luring sailors through my song
a siren witch enchanting
a mermaid lithe and long

26 May 2021 Wednesday Prose Poem: capitulation

Photo by Laura Chouette on Unsplash

When that lighted magnifying mirror slid off the bathroom counter cracking like an egg sunny side breaking bad galloping up a yellow brick rode to that quintessential magical place where appearance and reality doubled down but didn’t fold —

over easy and scrambling for a dustpan, gifting seven years of bad luck onto the unsuspecting tall kitchen garbage bag, just doing its job

my changing face, an imperfect GPS to neither here nor there, hopes spun of yarn, lovers sought, minds changed, children lost, stakes planted, searing locution bursting black oil from my ears, suspected something awry

its primeval scream…

In response to The Large Long Limerick War of 2021

Photo by Philip Veater on Unsplash

There once was a doctor of writing
requesting a battle and inciting
wars with words so obscene
bullying me to be mean
to throw daggers at friends was quite frightening.

This frisky Doctor of Burg is quite funny
his raves and rants to me as sweet as money
always finding a way
to make megacorps pay
his wit snagging more bees than doth honey.

Unlike Jupiter Grant I penned this
in the morn’ so sleep I did not miss
an epic rhyme to be proud?
so many readers I’ll Wow
for my flailing attempt to dish dis.

Ann Marie Steele

Ann Marie Steele

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