A Fool for the Man



The choice should be simple

And yet…

It’s not.


head and heart

be fightin’

tooth and nail

like your siblings at the Thanksgiving dinner table

until your grandmother is tsk-tsking

and your mama is sighin’

and your daddy is yellin’

and pretty soon your very

soul is sobbin’…


Because the grass IS greener and the colors ARE brighter

and he was the one dream

you never counted on

coming true.


But you’ll try-

pickin’ up your fork to swallow down your

pride alongside the lumpy mashed that keeps getting stuck to the dry roof of your mouth


You’re damn sure gonna need more tears to wash that mess down girlie.


So keep on pickin’,

scraping those tongs across your plate

and keep forgettin’

if you know what’s good for ya.


Cause ya never know when the world will get weird

and you’ll be sidesteppin’ every memory

only to land smack-dab in the middle of long ago-and-far-away

reminiscing about how good it felt to kiss his mouth


You ain’t never gonna be prepared when

he’s standing, right there, in front of ya again…

and dear Jesus, all you’ll be thinkin’ is

Lord Almighty that man is fine

while all you’re hearin’ is


or Patti

or Barry  (whichever one gets those juices flowin’)

movin’ through your veins like a wink from the other side of the room.


Heart’s already gone…

while your head’s shaking its own, muttering

you foolish, foolish, girl”

….damn child,  here we go again.



For Studio30Plus

(are you #WritingWithUs yet? You should be!)

I missed last week and so I have used both prompts since one was from my piece Autumn Offering.

“The choice should be simple”

and this week’s

“here we go again/weird

from Nonamedufus and Tara’s offerings.



just working for ’em

if you tip your hat

I’m likely to

tip my hand


and let those words on the tip-

of my tongue-

slide right off and

tip you off



the scales

and leave me slipping all over the iceberg,

the tip of which only you can see.


Here’s a tip-

if you let my chin rest



on your fingertips


you can find a way to

tip my head

and kiss away all this pain


I’ll get the bill-

If you’d consider offering me more than 20 percent.


I adore people like Marian and Whismygizmo who can write such incredible poetry.

I’m not as talented as my incredible friends but I hope you enjoyed this all the same. 

Autumn Offering

Sam was deliberate.

Oblivious to the stares of the other shoppers, the piped in elevator music and even the harsh overhead lighting she handled each one,  grabbing it by the stalk, tipping it over to inspect its round bottom and then balancing it the palm of her hand to contemplate its merit.

They had to be perfect.

Her phone chimed but she ignored it as she worked her way through the choices.  It began to ring and she tapped the dismiss button, annoyed now.

She was talking to herself and making a disgusted face at one particularly ugly selection when the Droid went off again. Dropping the gourd she tapped an icon and typed swiftly, “I love to spoil them “and then barely hit send before turning off the sound and dropping the phone in her cavernous purse.

Sam remembered Daddy bringing their special Halloween surprises home as she tapped her booted foot. “The choice should be simple” he’d say as he plopped them on the dining room table, turning their painted smiles to their delighted faces. “Don’t make it harder than it has to be.”

Mixing up the memories, she realized he wasn’t referring to the gifts. He was reminding his daughters to go with their guts.

Sam closed her eyes , opened them and focused on two silly faces and set them gently in her cart so they were sitting where a child would, grinning up at her.

Her nephews would love these and even with him gone all these years, her father’s tradition was still her favorite part of Fall.




*Inspired by the actual Fall tradition my daddy had of buying us Painted Pumpkins every year. My sister Dana, Aunt & Godmother extraordinaire, continues  the custom for her nephews. Love her so.*


This is for Studio 30Plus:



This week, we borrow from Nonamedufus and his self-titled blog, “Taught By My Example.”

“I love to spoil them.” and/or “tradition”

The word for the 100 Word Challenge at Velvet Verbosity (even though I completely ignored the word limit)


Velvet Verbosity Writing Prompt

The prompt at The Light & Shade Challenge

lightandshade logo


Everything should be made as simple as possible, but not simpler.

Albert Einstein (1879 – 1955)



When A Hopeless Romantic Falls In Love


You had me at hello…

Okay?  (Okay.)

It wasn’t logic, it was love.

Pick me!

Choose me!

Love me!

Remember I’m just a girl standing in front of a boy…

scared of walking out of here and never feeling this way again.

 My answer to the ultimate question. 


*author’s note: Can you guess all the movies/TV shows?* 

At Your Knee

“I’m okay.”
You’re okay.
(right? )

Until you repeat the question,
(“You okay?”)

and I stammer (dammit!)
choking on the black dust of memories
while the
loose gravel of forgiveness under foot
threatening to
lay me out if I’m not careful

“What were you asking?”

“Are you okay?”
I pause
listening for the echoes of your voice
(a little too tightly)

to your lips spilling promises

Grow old with me…”

Your gaze is all want and concern
You’re subtle, I’ll give you that.
A charmer for sure.

If I was any kind of student I’d show you how much I’ve learned
taught by my example” you’d say and pat yourself on the back.
I meet your icy blues.
“Never better.”


lightandshade logo


Still Crazy After All These Years?

A ring around your finger
should halt
The longing…
(or is it yearning?)

But a smile across the room,
A hug
(for a second too long)
Where you breathe in the faintest whiff of sandalwood

And suddenly
You’re sixteen all over again.

My answer to the ultimate question this week.

Small Talk

I swiped your parking space

( in return) you snatched my breath.

When a (much imagined ) coincidence

shimmered in my rear-view, common sense retreated.

My feet should have done the same…

Any idea much it costs to remove teeth marks from Jimmy Choos?

How Do You Plead? (The Angel Sagas)




A gavel thundered and the milling along with the chaotic, whispered conversations was immediately silenced.

“We’ll come to order, please.”  Araquiel requested in the smooth, patient voice of the doting grandfather figure he resembled. His white hair deeply parted to one side was streaked with stripes of gray as if those strands had stood their ground when asked to change.

Raquel sat to his left, with his hands folded on the table in front of him with a look of quiet terror on his face. He’d replaced the Armani suit for light blue robes and it aged him. His face sagged and sallow, purple shadows played on the skin beneath his eyes.

He looked awful.

It mattered little to Amriel as he sat in a beautifully carved wooden chair, a foot below the rest of the council, in the middle of the cavernous room; on display or in-the-round as it was often called. He’d refused to relinquish his own Italian blend so he looked like a banker at a toga party.

Peering at his elder he felt no earthly (or heavenly, for that matter) guilt. Instead he harbored a deep desire to assure his handler that nothing that happened in this room could dampen his mood.

Amriel’s thoughts snuck off, as they often did,  to Jane.

Soon she would wake and Charles Wakeford would be there to greet her with soft eyes and love that (manipulated or not) would finally pull her from her somber and lonesome sleep.

He tugged on the Windsor knot at his neck to release the relief and a tiny pinch,  yes, an almost undetectable pang, of jealousy gathering at the base of his throat as he imagined her wanton surprise.

Araquiel’s voice pulled him back to the room, where his peers had begun to titter in the wake of unaccustomed silence.

“Enough.” The angel demanded, a bit more forcefully than his previous request and the room hushed. Leveling his gaze he seemed unnerved by the peace that had settled around his rogue disciple, “Amriel, we are here to ascertain your role in the matter of Jane Best. Did you, dear Angel, intercede on her behalf?”

“I did, sir.”

Araquiel’s eyes clouded, “You don’t deny involvement?”

“No sir.” Amriel acquiesced, taking in Raguel’s heavy sigh before covering his face with his hands.

“Are you prepared to state your reasons for this breech?”

Amriel pulled at the small white cuffs of his dress shirt until they peeked from the edge of his suit jacket. He answered unapologetically, “I am. “


Amriel sat up straight in the chair, “She needed me. I watched over her heart for almost two years tending to her dreams, her hopes, her wishes. Wakeford wasn’t ever going to come back to mend her heart. “Amriel stopped, desperately searching for the words that help him explain, “I had to do something.”

“Your initial intention was to harm this human?”

Amriel nodded, “To end his life.”

The hushed council exploded into a frenzy of disbelief where voices spilled over one another in a rush to scold or offer an opinion.

Jane’s angel simply closed his eyes and listened, even as he felt the iron cuffs snap over his wrists, anchoring him to the chair and whatever fate the council had in mind.


For this week, we’re going back to quote and single word prompts.

From Linda, at In Somnis Veritas,”With Every Season”

“I close my eyes and I listen.” and/or “iron”


You can read this story from the beginning by clicking on tab at the top of this page. 


Amriel: The angel of May

Araquiel: The angel with dominion of the earth 

Nanael:  The angel who governs science

Miniel : The angel invoked to induce love

Raguel: The angel who watches over the behavior of angels. 

No Regrets



Raguel was furious.

Slipping quickly through the smoking mirror into the empty space where Amriel had disappeared he struggled to make sense of what he’s just witnessed. Coming out on the other side he took in his angelic colleague’s wings protruding from the back of his suit, finally free of their constriction. Amriel was dusting the remnants of the crimson, glittered dust from the sleeves of his jacket.

Raguel felt his insides boil.

“You stupid, stupid sprite.” He scolded.

Amriel grinned and shook the empty vial in his face.

“It’s done old friend.”

Raguel sighed, felt his insides heaving, “There is no going back now, Amriel.”

The younger angel nodded, accepting his fate as though he’d been handed his own execution orders.

“I know Raguel.” He said stepping toward the elder angel and placing a hand on his forearm. “I appreciate your worry but I’ll be fine.”

Raguel’s shook his head, his voice more groan than whisper, “There is will be no forgiveness for what you’ve done. The council has never offered absolution in these cases and they are unlikely to start now.” Tears began to spill from his eyes onto his cheeks and he covered Amriel’s  hand with his own. “What have you done?” He pleaded.

“The dust I requested was violaceous.” Amriel confessed.

Raguel lifted his eyes, “I saw it, with my own eyes. The dust you gave Wakeford was red, magenta, the powder of renewed love.”

Amriel smiled, his wings fluttering, scraping against one another in joy. “I know. The dust must have been intercepted by Miniel.”

Raguel was not swayed, “You should not have intervened on Jane’s behalf for any reason.”

The men were still holding onto one another, one’s hand covering the others but the air had gone cold around them,

“I meant to kill him elder.”

Raguel’s head hung with this news, his own wings drooping like a weeping willow. “An advocate! You were always a loyal disciple, a trusted ally. What’s happened to you?”

Amriel thought of Jane; of her sweet, kind, generous heart and the pain it had endured, his own heart aching to give her some small joyful moment.

“Sorry my friend, I’m not that guy anymore.”


Amriel: The angel of May

Nanael:  The angel who governs science

Miniel : The angel invoked to induce love

Raguel: The angel who watches over the behavior of angels. 



This week we borrow from Tina(one of my FAVORITE people)  at Not Just Another Mother Blogger, and her continuing love story of Caroline and David, in “Summer’s End.”

“… I’m not that guy anymore” and/or “entwined”


I place my hand over your taut skin

where my fingers graze your dragon tattoo





following the




of your sentience





navigating a route

I fear might be impossible to abandon


My response to the weekly question.

A Gargleblaster (42 words)

sumidamisti hemanes_rmg@mailxu.com
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