Sign in

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.

Weaving relationships prompt

Photo by Jeremy Bishop on Unsplash

We would be together
and have our books
and at night
be warm in bed together
with the windows open
and the stars bright —
Ernest Hemingway

Effervescently swathe us is in the sparkly glare of now — slippery skin spellbound


bubbling— just below the surface — time submerged in quicksand
creating semipermeable memories —difficult to discern where my inhales

begin and yours end — synchronistic in this scintillating symbiotic sea
spawning raw memories —surreal and gestating amid the dancing

the dreaming, the delighting — in the smacking of skin — the swaying ins and outs of syntax…

Smiling our roads converged

Photo by Cathal Mac an Bheatha on Unsplash

Feathers free, free falling amid giggly pillow fights in bed — this love is like being a kid again — spin the bottle, truth or dare, hopscotch, sprints

around the block, and MTV’s Martha Quinn, Kool Aid and homespun foods — chicken noodle noodles — their floury spread drying across the cracked

marble dining room table of my childhood, awaiting a plummet into the pot, or homemade pizza, and country style steak

wishing he’d met my dad and I’d met his mom

where our collective consciousness spins a parallel web, woven with a different beginning but the same end —as…

Spilling candy on my parade

Photo by Earl Richardson on Unsplash

The rising amber petals
opened her arms
as could be expected
while the calendar flipped
May to December
crimson days fraught with
gold smelting nights
eyes gaping wide at

peering down from 60 feet
donning sunflower tunics
fingers painting lavender wishes with a swipe so deft
Michelangelo wept tears olive with envy
of these giant Brobdingnagians
striking a silvery chord
my mind never learned to strum
Wallflower I was

bowing to an azure sky
splitting at its seams
this rainbow piñata
spilling candy on my parade
your parade
their parade before

the umbrella snapped shut
hung itself inside…

Erotica Challenge

Photo by Chelsea shapouri on Unsplash

these beads between my teeth
let me grovel
on my knees
dear Lord
recite my rosary
in your dark box.

Seeds slick between my
oozing my spice
in this woody confessional
let me atone
my wicked ways
you drinking my elixir
holy water
my crimson chalice.

Repent rapaciously
those fifty shades of blush
and horizon of hues
inked in between my parts
onto You
and Yours
my Creator
my hardest

I said hard

NIBBLE my petals
with your thorn til I rain clover
GRATE my soft cheeks
tickle my lips
with your gruff shadow


Real + Raw = A Fairytale

Photo by Dainis Graveris on Unsplash

Give me an “S,” give me an “E,” Give me an “X”! What’s that spell? Well, forgive me, but I am a reading teacher. SEX…who doesn’t adore it? I, for one, do. In fact, although I’m a bit of an overachiever in other areas of life, sex ranks high on my list of life pleasures that ground me, in more ways than one.

After sex, well, love, and rock and roll naturally follow suit. But what if it — SEX — isn’t all the unicorn and rainbow-spawning spectacle we read about? Fantasize about? You know, the big cocks, the mouthful…

Saturday Poetry Prompt: the wild natural

Photo by Pawel Czerwinski on Unsplash

Magma jetting from earth’s intestinal layers meandering
through rivers of steamy illusion
geysers rushing sideways like fates’ glance

into my path littered and
mushrooming amoebic despair
through cells
personality splitting like mitosis

reality loquacious
humid and still
the calm before the storm

Emotions molting snakeskin in the night

Gushing bubbly spite recapturing then
obliterating memories
as tears slip, slide and

decay, winding deep past
graves sprinkling ashes with despair
dirt parting like the red sea

disposition sunny then manic

sobs from the core dry heaving then
shooting up
through the deep bubbly picture show of my mind

Plumes of clouds…

The Music That Saved My Life Poetry Prompt

Photo by Alfonso Scarpa on Unsplash

Yep, I was that straight A student
thinkin’ too much

young, I believed
fairytales existed
for pretty women
maybe not myself

love didn’t bite
rarely did
in fact, I never stopped believin’
never thought I’d lose anything
not even my religion

we’re all living on a prayer
we had faith, and lots of it

listening to my heart
not head
finding games were played
by boys
some for keeps
but most just whispering carelessly
in my heart
telling lies, sweet, little lies

don’t you know I was crazy for you
wanted you to take me on time after time
and if it…

Stories about Michael Jordan, college basketball and that whisky

~photo by author

My Ray, in basketball vernacular, is one of the big guys
That’s what other players call those who stand at least 6’8"
Go figure.

Towering an impressive 6’11" over my petite frame Ray is more than enough if you get my drift
And sometimes I just wanna climb him like a jungle gym

However, he’s not only tall but tells the best tales in the world — 
like the one when he met Michael Jordan a senior at the same school
Ray, already standing 6’6' as a sophomore, was hard to miss.

This guy tapped me on the shoulder one…

Poetry Contest: Summer Songs

Photo by Mika on Unsplash

Whistle a sea breeze
as I meander
toes squishy in the sand
the sun is just a tease
eyes blinking in this bright summer land

Race, class, age, politics
nothing divides
at the beach
here for the same
to sun to surf to swim alike

From the middle-aged man so crass
donning a cherry red speedo and
the three girls parked in front of me
gossiping and giggling as he
so tan
returned to shore
getting close enough to see
the word delicious spanning his skinny ass
as he passed

The voluptuous mom tending to her toddler
bending over like a…

Ann Marie Steele

Get the Medium app

A button that says 'Download on the App Store', and if clicked it will lead you to the iOS App store
A button that says 'Get it on, Google Play', and if clicked it will lead you to the Google Play store