sucked in
Editors at Mississippi Mills’ online newsletter The Millstone came up with a plausible (or not) explanation for a recent spate of AWOL emails from readers. Their theory inspired this…
what if…?
I sometimes get stuck in ruts. Thankfully, some of the ruts in which I get stuck are rather fun. Poetry in the style of nursery rhymes, rhyming couplets, and Dr….
grist for the mill
It’s March 18, 2018. Sometime between now and July 1, I’ll move from the beautiful village of North Hatley, Quebec, where I’ve lived for five years, to the equally…
pink picket fences
pink picket fences © 2018 punkie pink picket fences glue sticks and blue sticks pens and potatoes roses are red and so are tomatoes creating a…
note to self: do not argue with people whose purpose is to argue
I wrote this poem, and posted it on LinkedIn. Then a man who seems to enjoy responding to my posts with passive aggressive comments designed to provoke me did so, and I…
a poetic #EPIC answer to “how are you?”
“How are you?” seems such a simple question. We hear it, or variations of it, over and over again, and we answer without much thought. “Fine thanks,” or something like…
broken dreams
broken dreams Listen here (and/or read below): http://casite-801723.cloudaccess.net/wp-content/uploads/2017/04/Broken-dreams.mp3 broken dreams © 2017 punkie this night I weep for shattered hearts and mourn the lost unfinished starts i grieve...
word games
This one is better heard than read in my opinion: http://casite-801723.cloudaccess.net/wp-content/uploads/2017/04/word-games.mp3 words games © 2017 punkie blank pages are blessings or sometimes a bitch depends on your mood...
tap dance
tap dance © 2008 punkie in the inky darkness after midnight, it’s hard to decide which sounds sweeter: the tap dance of raindrops on maple leaves, or the whispering...
the easter parade
easter parade ©2017 punkie http://casite-801723.cloudaccess.net/wp-content/uploads/2017/04/Easter-parade.mp3 spending easter on my keister contemplating life the ups, and downs, merry-go-rounds of which each day is rife what for I wonder...