Battlefields of Discontented Dreams


Another year has marched out of my life.

A crusading warrior making his way back home,

Leaving bloody battlefields in his wake.

Trampled valleys where dreams once stood.


In the beginning, the year tiptoed in,

Softly sprinkling crystallized wishes.

Ideas, floating like a fine dusting of snow,

Forming a light covering on my bed of anticipation.


In swept the Ides of Spring laden with promises.

Storms tossing my wants in a turbulent sea of needs.

I planted my seeds with the expectancy of progression,

Hoping to find nourishment for my battered soul.


Summer scorched a path through my life

Bringing passion and potential to my fertile soil

Growing, thriving, reaching for the budding of fulfillment

Hopes alive, green and fresh, standing tall against adversity.


Autumn flew in on the winds of a changeling,

Taking the abundance and leaving a barren field.

Stripped of optimism, I wander in the fields of despair,

Wondering where my footpath led me astray.


Yes wicked winter with your freezing rains.

You beat against me, leaving blisters in your wake.

But Spring will return, of this I am certain,

Bringing with it the possibilities of contentment.


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Different Strokes of Colors

I knew a girl with polka dots
I saw her every day
Who could like a girl with spots?
I wish she’d go away.

Everyone like’s stripes you see
My group wore blue and green
We ruled the school with colors bold
All other colors are obscene.

We taunted dots and made her cry
Poked fun at her yellow and purple marks
Other kids joined in our fun
A prank, a laugh, a bit of lark.

Then one day her colors changed
The spots were gray and black
She hung her head when she left the school
She never did come back.

One day I asked a teacher where
The girl with dots had gone
She shook her head, looking at the class
She told us she had withdrawn.

Seems she had left the school one day
She walked along the riverbank
With backpack loaded with some rocks
She walked into the water and sank.

She left a note about how sad she was
That she just didn’t seem to fit
My friends and I just hung our heads
The blame was ours, I must admit.

Each day I walk along those shores
Each year I place a spotted wreath
For a different girl who had her place
Who didn’t deserve the grief.

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Hard Life, Well Spent

Cowboys herdin’ cattle cross dusty trails

Sandy hooves paint ground fog in their wake

Shuffling along swattin’ flies off molty hides

Riders amble aside keeping eye on their stake


Chuck wagon camps, setting up by a creek

Beans and pan bread cookin’ over hot stones

Coffee’s meandering aroma penetrates the air

Greeting men carrying saddles over tired bones


Ranch hands scout the waters nearby

Look to the sky to judge the night

Storms a comin’ as night encroaches

Coyotes restless, cries rent last light


Cattle dogs alert to changes

Nip the heels of stragglin’ calves

Cowhand slaps his rope while coaxing

Blistered hands and lips in need of salves


Cowhands sing to calm their charges

Bedrolls gathered near the fire

Dreaming of a trail once taken

And of their loves as they retire

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Night Tantrums

sunset for Night Tantrums

Daylight holds back the twilight
Like a petulant child
Not wanting to go to bed.

Earth’s nightlight glows at dusk
Sunset ebbs and flows colors
Casting a quilt of tranquility.

Clouds of blueberry line the skyline
Laced caps of receding light
Nature exhales as the child falls asleep.

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The Roots and the Branches

Many years ago, my children came home from school explaining that they needed a family tree for a project assignment.  I was able to go back to my parents and my in-laws and their parents and family members but that was it.  As years continued to pass, I was asked the same questions from my grandchildren.  I had already started fidgeting with doing further checks so I was able to give them a bit more.  Last year I truly become inspired and pulled my brothers into the project.  It has been a blast.  We have found out so much we had no clues about and have met family we had never heard about.  Last night, a cousin of mine that I haven’t seen since we were children found me and we started sharing information about ourselves and our families.  Turns out her mother is celebrating her 90th birthday.  I also found out that my last living relative on my father’s side is still alive.  She sent photos and was able to add data to my mother’s side that I wasn’t able to find.  Amazing enough, she too has been building an extensive genealogy chart so hopefully we will be able to combine the data.  I only wish I had started all this many years ago.  My plan is to give full charts to all my family and their families.  That way when their children or grandchildren ask for the same information, they will have a regular story book to show their classes and be able to be proud of the roots and branches that stretch out across generations and continents to form the people they will someday become.  It has given me a sense of peace and longevity.  In this day and age, people want to post on the internet to be noticed, to be seen and not forgotten.  People hope that one day someone with look up a subject and their name will appear, their words will be remembered.  Our ancestors hadn’t the technology and paper doesn’t hold up for all time.  I feel that by finding them, when they lived, who they loved, is itself a legacy to them.  The existed, they counted, they meant something important.  To each of you I have found and those I have yet to discover…I salute you.

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Birthing a Writing Career

Susan Finlay, author of several books including The Outsiders series, invited me to write an article for her blog.  You can see the article as well as view her site at:

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My new book is available on Amazon

My new book is available on Amazon

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November 9, 2013 · 5:20 pm