A Poem About Poetry

imaginarygarden Literary Excursions with ~ Metafiction


She’s a shoe string that won’t stay tied
dares you to double knot her, pull tight,
she’ll still slip loose like a boat and drift
the currents and tides of her fancies.
You can’t pin her down like a butterfly
in a frame, not even with golden pins
she’ll grin and wriggle away.

She is an enigma, a fairy tale, a fable
with a moral at the end. Truth, fiction,
fantasy and cold, hard fact. She’s words-
worth and a p(l)ath through the fields,
a pound of wilde, a frost that burns.
(See what I did there?) And now she’s donne…
till the next poem is written in the sand.



The Color of Mud

The Twiglets “The Color of Mud”

Image result for mudpies images

The color of mud pies,
like luscious chocolate
tarts dressed in nature’s
frills of daisy petals fanned,
Rose of Sharon crepe blooms,
violets and clover and fern’s
lacy curls presented to mother
with muddy hands.



Sweet Solitude

imaginarygarden The Tuesday Platform Imagined By

Image result for images of peace of mind

I didn’t choose solitude
solitude chose me.
slash, clash, smash
of the world bruised
my soul till I could not
hear the song of the lark,
the music of the wind,
the wisdom of the clouds,
the slow, steady pulse
of the earth’s heart
so I began to withdraw
to the subtle call of quiet.
She soothes my spirit with whispers,
calms with colors of luscious
marigold sun
turquoise skies
goose grey storms
and red roses, too.
he tosses the static…
the spark of strife away.
Even this room from which
I write is so quiet
I can hear a faint hum,
a strum of OM
Nothing distracts.
olitude chose me.



When Life Hands You a Lemon…Make Lemonade

mindlovemisery  prompt by Oloriel
“For this week, I will give you a list of random items or words that you should use to create a mini story. The words are: Glass, Darth Vader, napkin, cellphone, lighter, book, anger, trouble, mind.” (use in that order)


I gaze into the looking glass, ancient, smoky, dark as the heart of Darth Vader and with a napkin from yesterday’s anniversary party, I dab at mascara ringed eyes. The cellphone dings. A message from from my best friend, my ex-best friend I remind myself. “Please, answer my call. Talk to me,” she texts. “Let me explain.” I rummage in my purse for a cigarette and lighter and mute my phone.

How would she explain that kiss? He certainly hadn’t had any good excuse as he mumbled and stumbled through an awkward, unintelligible explanation. Just like a cheap, paperback book or maybe a trashy soap opera scene, I thought, trite, predictable – in a book but not real life. I’d cried, pitied myself, despaired, thought of suicide (that would show them!) Then anger took over. A red, torrid, blinding rage.

I’d have to go to some trouble to cover my tracks but my mind was made up. I Googled revenge. Poisons. Accidental deaths. Then, I filled out an eHarmony registration.



Rah, Rah, Sis Boom — Bah

TheTwiglets inside out


Their hair so perfectly flipped
movements choreographed
kicks high in the air, a hand stand
showing off blue bloomers
under the white and gold pleats
of a crisp cheerleader’s skirt.
I might as well wish for the moon
as out of reach as their perfection…

I sighed. I’ll always be the inside-out
sock on the nylon hose foot of life.


Mad About You

imaginarygarden Of Angels and Monsters Imagined By

“We all go a little mad sometimes.” – Psycho

Image result for love madness images
google image


What strange potion slipped between my lips
and warmed my blood to the marrow
or did a Gloxinia’s nectar poison an arrow
that slid so painlessly into my placid heart
stirred a fire within my breast, took my breath,
soon as my eyes beheld yours. Or is it merely
that we all go a little mad sometimes? And if
this be madness then let it rage in frenzied,
fanatical, foolish waves of fascination. For I
adore this madness of which I am mad.


The Monarch

Image result for nature animal pictures

mindlovesmisery Saturday’s Mix with Teresa
Welcome to Saturday’s Mix. I will be hosting every Saturday throughout the summer while Bastet is taking a break. Today, I thought we’d look at Emily Dickinson. Known for her unusual similes and metaphors, she can be rather cryptic to read. For example, she wrote this poem: Who would guess she’s actually describing a hummingbird?
A Route of Evanescence,
With a revolving Wheel–
A Resonance of Emerald
A Rush of Cochineal–
And every Blossom on the Bush
Adjusts it’s tumbled Head–
The Mail from Tunis—probably,
An easy Morning’s Ride–

A flitter of honey colored velvet
A flutter of dainty angel wings
Dipping in a hundred trumpets
Sipping the ambrosial nectar
Joy expressed in silence
No song, no trill, no hum
Just the lovely cadence
of color, dance and sun.


Mountain Mama

Paul Whitener (1911-1959) Blue Ridge Mountains @1950, Watercolor


Towering mountains of blue hue
look down on the hollows and hills
with love and pride, with mother’s eyes.
Nestled in her lap like bairns
the village reclines in her arms.


ImaginaryToads  Artistic Interpretations with Margaret – Small Town Inspiration…

Welcome to Artistic Interpretations!  I am often excited and and often anticipate for months a visit to well known museums such as the Art Institute of Chicago or the Metropolitan Museum of Art, but I recently visited The Hickory Museum of Art, a small town in North Carolina not far from where I live, and was reminded what a joy it is to include these gems on my calendar as well.