Advent changes plans. I am not writing of the Advent of the Christmas season, but of the flu season.

Due to the beginning of this nasty season, one of coughing and sore throats and running noses, our poetry project barely got off the ground just as I hit the ground.

It was a good idea. One we may revisit some day.

Until then, here are the meager fruits of my labor, with the hope that my Advent of the Christmas season will yield a more rewarding crop.

Re-cap: I began December with the hope of writing a poem a day with my writing companion, my husband. We were to choose one image per week and write seven poems. One poem would be a haiku and another would be rhymed and metered. The other five could take any form of choice. Below is the photo for the first, and now only, week. It is by Cade Martin. My rhymed/metered poem is the first one and my first stab at a ghazal. The last poem is my haiku.


Photograph by Cade Martin



He stands at attention, awaits the arriving
Of crinoline skirts too soon to be arriving.

The dawn alights on the far eastern shore
while morning birds fawn on sun’s arriving.

Mist cloaks the mind and fog shadows thoughts,
numbness follows to find pain soon arriving.

The ivied boat at rest, aground with gaping
wounds addressed by a carpenter late arriving.

Only visage appears reflected on water’s skin,
but cracking ribs eject the soul’s arriving.

Unfurled in haste, slipping to the ground,
a handkerchief to wipe tears never arriving.

I stand ashore my feet firmly on clay
from which He made me complete before arriving.



Mr. McCafferty

Mr. McCafferty bought a strange little boat
with three lovely sails that stood straight out.

Proud as he was of his herbaceous find
He couldn’t convince not a pal of his to ride.

He searched and he searched with his fine little scope
Peering east and to west to the ends of the globe.

But alas he was lost not to waves uncontrolled,
but the snowstorm he ignored as the weathermen foretold.

For you see Mr. McCafferty’s boat never floated,
He paid no attention to the gardener who gloated.

Slyly he took McCafferty’s money not pointing out
that the green grounded boat could never sail about.

And Mr. McCafferty’s widow just smiled and sighed
when she learned how her husband had finally died.

For she and the gardener were quite fond of each other
and Mr. McCafferty had always loved just his mother.



Aphid Mist

the fog crawled in
spewing muddled thoughts
filling the bottom of the boat

a path indiscernible
within the aphid mist
fogging Odin’s gaze
through his solitary glass

longing for her breath
mixing with the day
the water’s stillness
brought little comfort

he will not move
cannot move from his pinnace
verdant herb
wrapping itself around the bow

sprouting ivy climbing the mast
covering the sails
until snow burns tangerine leaves
leaving but the skeleton of summer

she will sail away upon the aphid mist
away from his treasured glass
and curious gaze
towards a burgeoning infant green



Dipping fingers in
the green basin, tree limbs join
reflection to soul.



A Man In an Ivy Covered Boat

NaNoWriMo came to a successful end for my husband and myself. We each accomplished writing 50,000 words of a novel which now must be re-written and edited. This was the second year for both of us. Much to my surprise it was far easier for me to meet my daily goal this year than last. I don’t know why.

This year I had much less planned going into the first day. No character sketches. No basic outline.  Just a spark of an idea from a writing prompt I used with my 3rd, 4th, and 5th grade writing club students. I am thrilled to have completed what I feel is a quite successful story arc.

But now to the part I am less familiar with. The re-write. I will let it sit until January and then return. Actually, I’m having a hard time leaving my characters alone. But they must wait and keep themselves busy without me for a while.

We are feeling a bit lost, my husband and I.  We don’t want to lose the NaNoWriMo writing momentum we built over the past month. We also don’t want to leave any room for that nasty inner editor to return. We want another project to keep us writing everyday. So we developed a challenge for ourselves.

We each chose some art work – photographs, paintings, sculpture – from the Internet. We wheedled them down to five. We will randomly choose one of those works of art to inspire our writing each week. Every day for a week we will write a poem using that one image. One poem must be a haiku and one must be rhymed and/or metered. The other five can take any form we choose. We will have a date night at the end of each week and read our poems to one another.

If you would like to join us in writing, the first week’s photo is below with a link to where it was found and the artist. The artist is Cade Martin. He is a tremendous photographer and tells a brilliant story with each piece he delivers.

I will be posting all of my poems next week in one post. Come back and see what whimsy has transpired.


Photograph by Cade Martin.