Jackie . . .

Jackie, you were so loved!  We miss you.  We know that you are with Patty running and jumping over clouds, playing endlessly in doggie heaven.


I remember as if it were yesterday, picking you up from The Humane Society in 2007.  We were told that you had been returned twice.  We were told you were 6 years old.  You were a large dog and that would have made you 18 years old when you died.  Not possible.


For many years you had a great back yard.  We also took you and your sister out to a wonderful grouping of clean vacant lots and tossed a frisbee.  You guys had a blast.  We took you there instead of Forest Park because we would have gotten a ticket and been told to leave the park.


Boy-Boy misses you.  And Poppy really misses you.  I miss you too old boy.  But we will all be together someday.

Two Questions:

I have two questions for any and everyone who reads this post. I guess in reality I am looking for some ideas. The first question follows a difficult situation of just flailing around. I am just flailing around. The second question is a technical question, which results from something happening to me repetitively and annoyingly.

Question One:

Why am I creatively stuck? I have always been a creative person, very creative. However, I am currently stuck and have I been so for quite some time. I do not know what I wish to do. My husband is very supportive of me finding my creative outlet. I have an art space set up – within an excellent light space in our living room. I have water paints, acrylics, inks, pastels and other media from which to create. I have paper, a box easel (graciously given to me for Christmas by my daughter), how to books – everything that one might need to proceed except for inspiration.

For years, many of you knew that I wrote poetry. When I stopped, it was terrible losing my weekly connections to people with whom I had become “friends through writing.” I tried to write again and again but it just never panned out. I finally realized that I was clinically depressed and I did something about it. However, creativity has still not returned to me.

I have gone thru the good practice of forgiving those whom I needed to forgive, so as to move forward. But there is still no motivation nor inspiration. I guess that this is like writers block. So, I know that there are tricks to the trade so to speak, exercises to move one forward.

So, if anyone out there has any tricks or ideas that might nudge me forward into creativity, that would be great. And thank you ahead of time.

Question Two:

Why do the comments that I leave upon people’s blogs disappear, without fail, all of the time? There is usually a choice of commenting via my Google Account, URL and anonymously. No matter what I choose, the moment that I post a comment it disappears, forever. And, this is not a case of “comment will be visible once OK’d by the blog owner.”

Any ideas? I would so appreciate anything you might have to say. Thank you.


i am here mam



over here, i am here
mam, over here
mam, i am in trouble

you know, that if i were
at a party
say, it was your party

and you said to me hey
pick a cartoon
lucky for you it was

a Peanuts character
so i did so
and I so loved her

right on, she is so much
just like me. the
last few years with hair

flying every which way
a metaphor
for being all mixed

up up up, up up up
and away oh
yes, far, so far away


OK – I am not sure if I am getting it right yet, but truly, I am trying.  It has been just so darn long since I wrote.  And/or linked to anything, well you get my drift.  I hope.  This is meant to be the response to a prompt at Imaginary Garden With Real Toads here in less than 100 words.  Funny, I am known for “not loving” cartoons at all.  But Peanuts?  That is different – yep, I love Peanuts.  So thank you so much – this was fun.  The real trouble is I cannot remember the name of this girl.  And I have been scouring the internet.  Guess it does not matter, someone will tell me.

Why do I feel like her?  Well I have just been kind of lost for the last 3 years.  Now I am found – I think.

Ghastly Green . . . . . Signs

Nuclear Waste from Pixabay


twelve forty five, past midnight.

It’s late and

i with my

toxic thoughts

take a turn

around my brain.

I have questions about

nuclear waste,

purulent green,


seething heat.

Seeping up from

the ground.

Seemingly something

beauteous and awful.

Drink not the green.

Stay away.


what about

this spill?

What but



The photo is from Pixaby.  Thank you Mish for the prompt: signs.  Gosh, it has been so long that I can barely remember how to work with format or anything else.  I also hope that I can remember how to publish at D’Verse.

Pup . . . . . .

his birthday
is not important
to me

it is the day
he died
the day he
me behind
the day
I watched
the tide
carry him
take his spirit
out to sea
still I see him
along the beach
my big wooly
my dark dog
my big
black Pup
I miss your bark
I miss your breath
I miss your play
I miss my
soul mate

so I say
to my Pup
never set
me free

I endure
my pain
one that
is so
for it is all
that I
have left of

we meet again
I will pretend
that I hold
you close
watch you run
the beach
as we used
to do
we still
snuggle close
as I
nuzzle you

I guess that this is an “unbirthday poem.” It is what came to me for Poet’s United “Birthday Poem.” I know just how much Sherry misses Pup. He was/is the love of her life. I grew up with horses, cats and dogs. I love my animals. I have never been without a cat. Before David came into my life, Max was my great love. He was Siamese and devilish. But what a love – we were inseparable. Sherry writes about Pup today. Her poem is haunting and painful and can be found .

This poem is linked to Poetry United’s Mid Week Motif’s Birthday Poems.

Empty Mind

Today, Becca wrote a haiku mentioning “empty mind” among other things here. Her haiku got me to thinking about “empty mind.” So many spiritual traditions teach you to empty your mind so that you might “receive.” I can remember years ago, most likely in my late twenties or early thirties being told to “let go and let God.” It is interesting to look back and see things through the vernacular of the day. Years ago I studied and practiced shamanism with Michael Harner. More accurately; I studied with him and practiced on my own. He published the Shaman’s Drum magazine. As a shaman one “goes into the void” to seek knowledge, wisdom, truth and healing. At that time I was very interested in healing. The “void” is another manner of emptying one’s mind. I remember my void perfectly. I would travel by car to Lake Carlisle, dive deeply into the ground via this body of water and enter the void. My void was the dark blue night sky filled with stars. It was a very rich and dark, almost velvet sky. I used to travel across it with lightening speed acquiring what it was that I needed, healing, wisdom, spirituality. Have you ever had long periods of time when you felt spiritually void? I am just now coming out of one. I used to criticize myself when I had these periods as if I was sub human. Today I realize that these periods are restful and rejuvenating.

I had an experience with The Christ long ago, an experience of deep and all encompassing love. Among other things this opened me up to the understanding that all religions were simply languages, given by God to the different cultures so that God and the culture could communicate. Thus, bringing more goodness into ones life. So why is it that we constantly war over religion. Perhaps we are too interested in the study of our religion and not in emptying the mind. Empting the mind is fairly egoless. This experience also introduced me to many Christians, first in person and then on line. Forgive me if I offend any of you but for the most part they were not particularly nice people. Not everyone mind you, but many. So, what is it about this “empty mind thing” anyway? I know that it does bring me a calmness.

I have a spectacular view from my bedroom window. It is entirely man made, no greenery and nothing particularly natural. Seven floors up, I look out upon the whole north side of St Louis. Within my vision are several steeples and church spires. But most glorious of all is my view of the Stan Musial Veteran’s Memorial Bridge. I just love it! It is my bridge. I took possession of it the day we moved in here. There is also space where I can watch the traffic. I like to say that I can see the movement of the city. This calms and pleases me. It makes me wish for a wonderful and interesting view for all who are homebound. My mind empties with ease when watching, looking and seeing all that is behind our building. Following is a photo of my bridge taken this morning. At first I had decided to take a photo of it daily for the new year. However, I have decided that I shall only take photos of it randomly when it exhibits extraordinary beauty to me.

I have to tell you that I just looked at a comment from my friend Becca. It is odd how we humans interpret the words of others. She never said empty mind. No, she spoke of empty bedlam, something entirely different. None the less she did inspire me regarding empty mind.


Happy New Year!

Happy New Year to all. Since moving in to our new place I have neither written nor read a thing. I guess that you might say “I have stalled out.” And as they say: “that is just fine.” But now it really is time to pick up pen and paper – or perhaps “turn the computer on.” I am amazed that a new turn of phrase has not joined the American lexicon denoting the “use of the computer.” I have decided that it is time to come back. It is time write again, read again, live again. I have missed the camaraderie and I have missed writing and the reading. Something that David said last night at dinner prompted me to decide that it was time. He mentioned that everyone is afraid to move to the city. Nothing new really, it is quite simply the “vanilla” attitude of most people who live in the county.

You see, the city of Saint Louis had a long standing feud with the County of Saint Louis. The city in it’s heyday refused to join the county when asked to do so to become one entity, sharing both government and services thus saving money. All of the cultural institutions are in the city. Grand events take place within the city. The city is made up of approximately 350,000 people. The county today is made up of approximately 3,000,000 people. The county contains the areas wealth and tax base. The “area” that the words “Saint Louis” comprise include both city and county. But in reality they are two separate places. The city of Saint Louis although poorly integrated is where a large percentage of the areas’ African American population lives. The city is made up of many neighborhoods, each with a distinct cultural flavor. The county today does not wish to “integrate” with the city. It does not wish to share the wealth so to speak.

We have always lived in the city. I cannot possibly imagine living in a place where everyone looks like me. David grew up in suburbia and grew quite allergic to it. The only time that I lived in a suburban neighborhood was in the mid sixties when formerly married. When David and I met we were living in Hyde Park. We pioneered. At that time before the advent of gangs, Hyde Park had been an old mid to late 19th century working class neighborhood filled with nothing but brick homes. Today it is bombed out. Sad really. I bought a 3 story brick home built in 1886 for $5000. David bought a three story brick home “on the park”built the same year, for $6500. I moved their in 1977 to begin a new adventure. It is where we met and became the very best of friends. Shortly there after we fell in love. In 1980 I decided to test the relationship. I simply moved to Murphy Blair a matter of 5-10 blocks away, yet a very different neighborhood. Of course he passed the test. He sold his home and moved in with me. A couple of years later with a minister and a Rabbi, under a Huppa and in front of a space heater we married. Shortly thereafter we moved to my favorite neighborhood in St Louis the CWE or the Central West End. It borders Forest Park, one of the most beautiful and one of the largest city parks in the country. It was the site of the 1904 World’s Fair. It is also the site of St Louis Museum, Zoo, Tennis Courts, Steinberg Skating Rink, The Jewel Box and numerous other beautiful and cultural places. We lived there for 31 years, moving this spring to downtown St Louis. I miss Forest Park terribly. However we do have our own lovely small Sculpture Park. I think it is time to take advantage of it. Yes, it is time to engage in life again. I shall do so here at Noh Where more than likely with haibun and haiku. I shall do so at “My Downtown Blog” (http://mydowntownblog.blogspot.com)by writing about and photographing downtown Saint Louis. It really is a jewel about which so many people have misconceptions – but I shall save that for “My Downtown Blog.”

Books and Magpies

I just found this post (unpublished), so I shall combine it with Tessa’s picture challenge at Magpie Tales as the second part of the post. It has simply been so long since I have blogged that I had forgotten how to actually enter a post! I hope that this finds my friends in the blogosphere well. I do believe that I have finally settled in and actually “feel” this to be home for a change.

I am excited about a project for which I have volunteered. I hope to be doing a writing project with a group of veterans should our Central Library be able to pull together a group. This is meant to take place during January and February. I was also to be a part of a new Haiku Group, but I have found that my commitments are def (as Brian would say) too many. As a result – no haiku group.

When I was a child, I read Mummy’s books. Her book plate stated: “Books Are Like Friends”. And they, (books) have been that way for me for a lifetime. We grew up with a library. It was the most beautiful room in the house. It was filled with leather bound books from the 1800s. They had been my great, great grandfather’s books. I never met him. The books were meant for me one day. Unfortunately, my mother chose not to heat or air condition this room, in Vermont of all places. The books were a complete loss – except for a very few.

David and I bought our first house in 1983 because it had a library. Well that is overstating it a bit. It had significant shelving in one room that became the library. I do not have that here, as we are only 3 rooms, albeit more square footage than our first home. I do have bookshelves enough to place one half of my library into. Leaving the other half of my “friends” behind was difficult. Choosing who to take along was very hard indeed. Quite! Anyway, my books are all in the shelves hodgepodge. Now that I am finally feeling at home I look forward to organizing them. Below please find two haibun. The second is for Magpie Tales.

Books have for so long been such very good friends to me.
Leaving one half of them behind during our move was
gut wrenching, like leaving family or old friends. I do
so hope that they feel at home with their new owners.

I have forgotten
yes forgotten my friends
left to dustiness

For Magpie Tales # 247:
Thank you Tess for Maurice de Vlaminck’s Snowstorm. Unfortunately I cannot seem to upload it – ah well.

I grew up with snow. A lot of snow, in Vermont. In 1965 when I was 19
I moved to NYC. The biggest snow storm of my life took place. My family
sent me photos of snow above the roof line as they tunneled out.
This is November of 2014 and there are places today
that have had this kind of snowfall.

thick strokes of snow
brackish sky dwindling lights
in the outer world

For Magpie Tales # 247