Poetry ~ Current Vibe

vibe poem


Chance of hysterical laughter,
with scattered tears.

Pattern to continue indefinitely,
due to La Artista Loca Dama.

The phenomenon causes
micro-bursts of sporadic creativity
sprinkled with sarcasm.

The advisory level
has been upgraded from
“Watch” to “Warning”.

Be safe out there folks.

You never know where she’ll land,
but if she makes contact
you’re likely to find yourself
in the debris field of her poetry!

New Poetry Signature

Poetry ~ Lost? Find Me …

Years after her
they reminisced …

it never took much
to change her
but heaven and earth
change her ways

her emotions
blew with the wind

a cold front
brought icy stares
folded arms

a heat wave
provoked intense glares
and a rebellious smirk

her thoughts,
on the other hand,
switched frequencies
as easily as a radio dial

if she was dialed 
into you
the electricity
was palatable

when her thoughts
she was lost
to another world,
another dimension

the day she
they found a note

her last words,

“I may be in this world,
but I am not of this world
and neither are you.
Find me and be free.”

Monday Musings ~ A Journey with Fear

FEAR EYES framed

I took a journey with my old friend “Fear” last week. A few other friends came along for the ride. Allow me to share a short excerpt from my travel journal. Oh, and I brought you back a souvenir! I’ll share it at the end.

Warning: It got a little heated on this trip because my old friend, “Fear” was livid and decided to wear her favorite mask – Anger.

~~Travel Journal Entry~~

“I’m fired up! I’m gonna combust any moment!” my old friend Fear shrieks as I take a deep breath and grip the steering wheel.

“Breathe everyone. Let’s practice what we preach,” Spirit Guide cheers as she fastens her seatbelt.

“Shut up!” Fear screams, reaching her foot over and stepping on the accelerator as we speed toward the valley below.

“Oh no, this isn’t going to end well,” cries Inner Child as she cowers in the back seat next to the slumbering Artist.

“Calm down Fear, let’s all breathe through this,” instructs Spirit Guide as we approach the valley floor.

“I can’t breathe! I’m so angry I could spit fire!” Fear yells as we begin to slow and pull off the road near the river. “I need to get this out,” Fear demands. “Give me my sword!

“Ah, but the pen is mightier than the sword,” Spirit Guide replies, grinning.

“Whatever! Hand over your pen and parchment!” Fear demands as I rummage through the glove compartment. Fear is so melodramatic, I stifle a giggle as I hand over pen and paper.

“May I have pen and paper too,” Spirit Guide asks calmly.

“Me too, me too!” shouts Inner Child from the back seat. I watch as they scribble frantically and the Artist slumbers.

“There, I’m feeling better now,” Spirit Guide declares as she sets down her pen.

“Oh no! There’s more! Can’t you feel it?” Fear moans and scribbles a barrage of conflicting thoughts on the page. “There! That should do it!” Fear says gleefully and  slaps her pen down on the page.

Inner Child finishes doodling and cheerfully holds up her scribble for all to see.

The slumbering Artist awakens.  “Let me have a look ,” she says as she gathers the pages, sifting through the scrambled rant of words. “Ah, we may have something here.”

“Of course we have something!” Fear boasts.

“Shut up fear. I’m busy here!” Artist shouts. “It’s a mess, a tangled mess, but maybe … just maybe….,” she trails off and begins to work her magic.

~~End of Travel Log Entry~~

Alas, I survived another journey with Fear and Friends and arrived safely in the Valley of Creativity. Let me share a souvenir from our journey together –  a rant, or a poem, of sorts.

Defiance Poewm

use more red, try more blue
can’t you find a better hue?

write it this way, make a choice
search within and find your voice!

remain humble, a step behind
assert yourself and use your mind!

mind your prose, that will not do
the words don’t flow, they don’t ring true!

know the box and learn the rules
stray beyond and join the fools!

hear me speak, don’t look away
watch me act, not what I say!


I will not stop or be made still
my magic flows from brush to quill

I’ll paint my world, I’ll fill the pages
I’ll seek my truth among the sages

and deep within, creativity brews
the inner artist ignites the fuse

and there you have it, my story be told
defiant and grand, no box can it hold!

Poetry By Sue