A Year and Some Change Later


A little over a year ago, a former classmate and friend of mine took her own life.

I have spent a good portion of last year grieving this in a variety of ways. One of the ways was writing a poem:


Mostly, I want to say that I know that we’re all going through something (if we’re honest most of us always have something to celebrate and something to mourn) but please reach out if you feel like you can’t handle what you’re going through.

May we all know how loved and beloved we are.

Day 28 NaPoWriMo: Skeltonic Verse



Your mind will not be my cage,

Light the palo santo and the sage,

Purify and turn the page,

Pause for righteousness, cease, release,

There is a case for Godliness, a reason to seek peace,

We must still ourselves as the world continues to turn,

Though absent now, the sun will return,

We will descend or rise together,

Let’s be wise and rise, let us be windswept feathers,

Floating on the breeze of mystery,

Hope, hardwork and many dreams,

Collaborating to rebuild our shared reality.

Day 14 NaPoWriMo: Clerihew*



From gap tooth, to gold grill,

Evolution, revolution, Prophetess still,

Virgin, sex book, Evita, Slay Queen,

We dance, as through transitions, she sings.


*Disclaimer, a clerihew is supposed to be satirical but at the moment, I’m unable to produce such a poem, instead, this is a tribute to an amazing ever-evolving artist. Thank you Madonna, for everything! ❤ ❤ ❤ 

NaPoWriMo Day 8: Repetition


Last night, I watched an Episode of “Good Girls Revolt” (totally ready for season 2!) in which a woman has decided to leave her husband. He says some incredibly callous things to her, which provoke her to the point of slapping him. His response is to take the tumbler he is drinking from and smash it across her face. As she sits with a gash in her cheek and as he blubbers his repentance I couldn’t help but remembering a woman I once came across in a domestic violence shelter. I was a seminary student and was volunteering with a local domestic violence shelter and a young woman was across from me, black eye, arm in a sling, on crutches and a cast on her leg was telling me about how she ‘deserved’ the beating her husband had given her, which was the cause for her injuries.

Initially I wasn’t sure what to write for today’s poem but then, as it does, it emerged. My poem today will address domestic violence. Sadly, women are still the target of sexism and unequal treatment, in America and abroad. Stateside, we can claim many victories but the fight is far from over. This battered woman came across my path less than 5 years ago. If you are in this kind of a situation, please seek support, so many of us are pulling for you and praying for you, please call:


The house wasn’t clean, the dinner was burned,

That is when he struck her.

He felt she’d embarrassed him

She was a bit too friendly with his old friends

Before she knew it everything was a blur,

That is when he struck her.

On the field he was their hero,

In the elevator, her own personal zero,

Did she think he was a joker?

That is when he struck her.

He cried, he tried to plead,

She knew it was time to leave,

She was vetiver and myrrh,

That is when he struck her,

That is when he struck her,

That is when he struck her,

For the last time.

NaPoWriMo Day Seven: A Poem About Luck/Fortuitousness



I lost my snowflake,

It was tucked between her crisp cranberry lettered page,

I thought I saw it once, on his brow, a drop of sweat,

I even got the dog x-rayed in my quest, thank G-d for vets,

Thanks be to St. Anthony,

Thanks be to Oprah Winfrey,

After searching concrete for it’s last kiss, I found it wasn’t really lost,

It had just moved again and I found it this time, in the flower pots.

NaPoWriMo Day Six: A Poem that looks at the same thing from various points of view.


(My dog, full name: Princess Ashlynn Rose Von Barnhart aka Bin Bin)

5 pounds, from the farm, we brought her home,

Mostly she slept, short little legs dream-kicking remembering the black dirt and green grass she used to roam.

When awake she was a terror, attacking wires, couch cushions, bags of flour, chives and m&m’s,

For her, shredding purses, pillow and shoes were just a typical weekend.

As she grew, she began protecting us,

She shrilly barked at cats, vacuums, brooms, balloons, guests and wind gusts.

She left her squeaky toys in doorways to notify her of our movements,

She was never far, Captain Underfoot her alter ego, while we were cooking and dropping her treats in the kitchen.

Our protector also has a sweet side,

Sappy brown puppy dog eyes,

Begging to lick discarded yogurt cups,

Flopping on her side, a cue for love and belly rubs.

10 years have faded her once vibrant red face,

She moves a little slower and she now shines silvery gray,

She is tufts of fur and warm spots in cold rooms,

She is smiling, sparkling eyes and loving la roo la roo’s.

Day One NaPoWriMo: Haibun



Do you remember the girl who wanted nothing more than to speak the language of guitars? She stared longingly at their cherry stained faces and silvery coils of strings.

She laughs now because she learned,

Her hands speak guitar,

She is who she dreamed she was.