Four chambers pump and dump





pulsing against at a chest that can barely contain them.


Will there ever be a time

when I don’t set upon a memory of you

and my eyes don’t well,

my arms don’t ache for you,

my stomach doesn’t drop in excited anticipation

of your kiss at the base of my chin?


Is there anything as bitter on the tongue as remorse?


Can life be so long and so cruel as to brainwash me

into believing there is a time for us,

a place for us somewhere over the rainbow

or beneath the magnolia trees;

or will you lure me there, once again,

with your sweet words and devil tongue

only to gaslight my daydreams?


Our puzzle is scattered, unfinished

I’m on my hands and knees seeking the pieces

that lay strewn about



I know our lips will meet

after all this time

We will meld,

our teeth may bump

as we rearrange ourselves

we may twist and turn,

attempt after each silly, giggling attempt,

until our four corners


take hold

and frame

the explosion of colors and shapes we left in the middle.




It’s been a long time since I wrote and even longer since I wrote for Studio30.

But the words given to us ; remorse, gaslight/brainwash seemed to want to play.

Thank you for stopping by, I’m glad you’re here. 

Double Jeopardy

I never asked for more than you promised over and over again in heated whispers with your hot lips pressed to mine.

And if I am complicit in any crime

perhaps it’s the one mired in betrayal (yours)

and ignorance (mine)

As you savor your rum; red and slick like that sticky mess left on your hands, the voices in your head satisfy your convictions.

It was for her own good.


So you killed one to keep another.


Swallow your vows,

bite your tongue,

and wait for counsel

counting the years until your confession means nothing.


Soon enough, dearie, soon enough you can convince your peers it never happened.


But if they ever come back for you

just tell them what you told me

as you plunged the knife and split my soul

It was never about the money….

I did it all for love.


murder wordle

-written (the first thing I’ve written in months) for The Reverie Journal prompt of “Murder She Wrote”. 

The Reverie Journal is Coming Soon!

The Reverie Journal
(thank you to the editors of The Reverie Journal for this amazing button highlighting my favorite line of my poem)
I know that my stories, words and poems have been missing from this page for a while.
I promise to continue those stories soon.
But I came home from vacation to a wonderful email from Laura over at The Reverie Journal that a poem I wrote and submitted had been accepted for publication in their first issue which will be out OCTOBER 9th!
I can’t tell you how thrilled I am to know that “Good Girl” has found a home among these amazing poets and wordsmiths.
Look for the 1st issue in October!
The Reverie Journal
let's us on a little

Precipice Volume 3 is Here!

Words and stories fuel me.

Stories in every form, from fiction to memoir, interest and entice me.

In the years since I have embraced the writer inside me I have been lifted, broken, intrigued and awed by the stories I have had the privilege to read. I have also been filled with joy by sharing my own stories and poems with you. There is nothing like a community of people who “get” you and help you find your words as you tell your stories.

Precipice Volume 3 is available today from the editors of Bannerwing Books.  Those women of Bannerwing are tireless in their goal to bring you beautiful, thoughtful, thought-changing stories.

This year the theme for this beautiful anthology was boundaries. The contributors brought their best work and you feel that between the pages as they explored the idea of barriers, confines, invisible lines and boundaries of every kind.

I have a poem in this book, one about stars and distance and hope.

I hope you get your copy.

I hope the stories by some of my favorite people, women who have shared the most beautiful stories of their lives, become your favorites.


You can get your copy here today, Monday November 17th.

Precipice cover_final


***I’d like to thank the team at Bannerwing Books for choosing Stargazing for this book. To Angela, Cameron and Mandy, thank you.


I am so honored to be among the pages of this beautiful anthology along with some dear friends; Kristen Vanderhay Shaw, Elaine Alguire  Jennifer Williams, Andrea Mowrey, Angie Kinghorn, Shelton Keys Dunning, Elizabeth Yon and many others.

Inside the Chamber





They sent him to a small, dark room off the brightly lit council gathering space . The walls were draped in rich, heavy tapestries that hung floor to ceiling, and were the color of deep, mythical amethysts.

Amriel didn’t dare evaporate or spread his wings, which twitched against his back as he shuffled  along next to the duo of angels who flanked him, brothers Jahoel and Jehudiel, along the hallway lit by tall .

Once the room had swallowed the trio Amriel sank against one of the velvet walls, “So this is what the Chamber of Secrets looks like?” he said to the angels who’d  positioned themselves with their backs to door.

Jahoel, the younger twin, couldn’t keep the concern from his voice,  “Amriel, you are in deep trouble my friend.”

But Amriel was hardly listening as he pretended to hang his head and gazed into the tiny pile of white powder in his palm that resembled tiny, pinpoint stars.

Right before he collapsed, he watched as  Jane woke up, dewy-eyed, to the sight of Wakeford at her bedside.


For Studio30Plus:

This week, we borrow from Laura, “Newborn.”

“… chamber of secrets” and “stars”


For Velvet Verbosity: 

The word of the week is Dewy 



100 Words Writing Prompt

For more of “The Trouble with Jane” click on the tab at the top of the page.



Lucy in Love: Featured at Flash Fiction Magazine

It’s nice to write for all of you and have you come here and read my words.

I love those visits.


But sometimes I dream about having a bigger stage than this little blog for my stories.


Today, my flash fiction piece Lucy in Love is being featured on Flash Fiction Magazine and I’m thrilled.


A bigger stage for that lovely little piece about a girl in love.


Inviting you over to read it there and a HUGE thank you to Flash Fiction Magazine for choosing to share it.

flash fiction




my heart leapt out to meet yours

caution signs avoided

peril ignored






and blipped..just once

(ok, twice)

allowing you to riff then rip (it apart)


Red flags were blowin’

sun in my eyes, warmth stealing under my skin coating the inside of my thighs

between the spaces where ecstasy melts into aching  and back again

you passed into my chamber of secrets, if you will,

and sealed our fate forever



The shame, the secrets, the sanctimonious stares

would have been worth the sweet, sultry taste of sinning …

You’re sitting somewhere; on a carefully built pedestal in your leaning –ivory- tower-of – priggishness wishing the water would come in and take all those memories out to sea…

I’m sitting here just wishing I’d kissed you more.


The Reverie is  a new  poetry community I’ve found myself in and (whispering, hoping they let me stay…) I love it.

This week they prompted with a Burning Denial or a Regret:

Sometimes the things we deny ourselves tells us a lot about ourselves.

So tell us, what have you said no to, but you wish you could say yes?


The smallest lick ignites a spark,

the breezes blow

while kindling catches

and warms your skin


You lean in to feel,

to touch,

stroking the metal

poking the offerings

extending your hand

free of trepidation

And wait for the fire…


your insides



for the quiet flicker of flames

mistaking the devouring of your soul for a

lovely incandescence floating above the bonfire


his legerdemain drips bitter on your tongue


your heart’s become merely a fleshy mound on his spit


showing  no penitence

his rips at your tender skin.

with pointed and bared teeth


Don’t wish for water….

The beast must be fed.


Linking to three prompts with this one…

Mama’s Losin’ It
Write a post inspired by the word : bitter 
Velvet Verbosity Writing Prompt
This week’s word: Beast 
lightandshade logo
Every man is guilty of all the good he didn’t do

Good Girl

That girl

with her grown up job

and three inch heels

still feels like a child most days.

Even though she comes when she’s called mommy or honey

she yearns for someone to put their mouth against her skin

and call her baby instead,

summoning her dreams from their private places.


She doesn’t follow rules or

listen to the rhetoric of voices

she’s just doing the best she can

to drown out  the silken speech of temptation

while ignoring the yearnings you inspire.


She can stay good as long as you don’t ask her to be bad.


Because if you just reach for her,

eager to draw out the young girl playing dress up

and kiss her like she’s  somethin’

then all bets are off…

she’s gonna follow you anywhere.



I have  a lot of respect and awe for people that write beautiful/soulful/inspiring  poetry.

I just got acquainted with The Reverie and they have a prompt this week asking us to be inspired by a really cool KONGOS song:  Come With Me Now: and decided to write something.


Role Reversal

Yancy shifts, careful not to disturb the dream that is evidenced by the slight but completely adorable twitch that keeps pulling Clea’s lips up and unknowingly putting a pink blush in her cheeks.

He struggles to stop himself from reaching for her while hoping he’s playing lead in her fantasy.

The bed moans its disapproval as he gently tries to eradicate his arm from underneath her copper curls.  Yancy takes a fingertip and pushes one unruly fiery strand away from her cheek and allows it to rest there a moment longer than he should.

Clea’s body stirs while her mouth moves in an elaborate series of openings and closings, her gentle whimpers arouse him as she unconsciously fills the gap between them with her warm, soft body until she’s tucked into him.

Without thinking, Yancy presses his lips to her forehead, his nose drawing in the tangy scent of sex and wheaty beer.

He never expected to end up here again.

The last words they’d said to each other, so many years ago, had been full of venom and tears. He’d written her off, vowing to never think of her again.

Until he’d had to.

Until the only thing he could see were her piercing eyes, the color of robin’s eggs, filling with tears as she reached to embrace him in surprise. Vanilla and something almost acrid, like the tip of a struck match,  made their way to his senses as he held on to her, refusing to let go.

They’d left the party together clutching at the past.


Clea wakes with her hand on his chest.

Yancy watches as she adjusts her body, naked and exposed, by wrapping the the sheet around herself and letting her gaze travel the room until it settles on him.

Watching  as she  stiffens and allows a single tear to travel the distance of her face before she moves away clutching the flimsy sheet he rushes to assure her.

He knew the truth but he spoke anyway.

“I’m sorry Clea. I never meant to hurt you.” He hears himself pleading, desperate and wrecked, but he can’t stop the words, ” I still love … ”.

Clea cuts off his admission with a watery smile, noncommittal and forced.

” Maybe some secrets  are best hidden away.”  She whispers into the skin near his middle.

Love is a luxury, lust is simply a comfort and Clea is only offering one.


I missed last week so I combined once again.

This week, we borrow from Tina, at Not Just Another Mother Blogger.

“Best hidden away” and/or “scar”

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