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PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields A Tomorrow She clutched the filthy handkerchief as she hacked. Dull pain radiated from her dying lungs and into her weary chest walls. Mira bent over, rag catching red mud. Some remained at the corner of her mouth. “Call them,” she wheezed with what little breath she had left. “Mum, you promised,” said Ricky, his ten-year-old face scrunched with fear.

Mia Goth in Frankenstein Not yesterday I learned to knowThe love of bare November daysBefore the coming of the snow,-- by Robert Frost, from My November Guest Discovering Warmth Mother and Father are two different parts of the same animal. Mother prowls my form, draping it in loose fabric with high, choking lace collars. Bonnets of seagrass firmly attach to my head, giving migraines while enticing suitors with a stray escaping curl.

solar candy canes avenue of cherry trees My shadow, taking pics of the water and the laughing gulls. dump truck crash on highway Lake Bluff Farms ginkgo, taken 072522 moon over field curious calf on my bike ride sequoia in michigan this was taken out along the lake. it was a perfect day for a ride heron fishing in marsh …

Detours Album cover, by Sheryl Crow It took me a little bit to find a song I liked. I wanted a song about actual jewelry, and many of the songs are using “ring” and “watch” in other ways. When I heard Diamond Ring by Sheryl Crow, I liked the sound of her voice and also that the lyrics resonated with me.

taken on 110625 Dearest Lake, Upon your sugar shoulders I’ve toddled,chased minnows in your shallows, dugfor clams with growing, waterlogged feet.I’ve squealed, held on on you in ski-boat donuts. My friend had a keep-dry wrap;her hand healing from a barb wired fence.Never far from you, with innumerable rides,drives, innertubes, sailboats; your exhalescasting fishy seaweed stench into our noses,

The past week of releases have had some decent tunes. Also included are two bands covered by blogmates: Big Wreck by Max and Stackridge by Clive. Links to the posts follow below. Staff Party by Big Wreck is a close knock off of Soundgarden. It’s not putting it down; it’s more admiration for carrying on the music. Max covered Big Wreck…

PHOTO PROMPT ©Yvette Prior Just One More! A slamming door wakes me. I open my eyes to a mosaic of a thousand images. Was I having a stroke? I go to turn on my side to sit up and feel my leg tethered. I try to say “what the!?” but all I do is buzz. Looking at my leg I see a spindly black stick, sprouted with rough hairs, stuck on a brown sticky film.

Crafts of LivingThe day she realized she couldn’t staybegan to craft a plan to get away meticulously carried out each stepby time he realized it she had lefthe cried a lot but then his rage beganhe crafted ways to punish her and thenit carried on for way too many yearsthe letting go, the cultivating fears…

POetry POstcard (POPO) Festival 2025 was the best one yet, both on the creating and sending and the receiving. There were 31 people on my official list and 3 on my unofficial list. Each of these individuals received a collage postcard put together by me, with a poem that was spontaneously written in the mornings as I drank first cuppajoe and looked out upon the day.

The first piece is that I will be able to access fiber optic internet and maybe phone soon.  All summer, step by step, things have been being put into place for it.  This morning when I heard trucks outside again, I looked out and saw workers doing something.  After they left I walked out and saw black tubing coming out of the ground with a couple inch diameter. 

dreaming kwan yin (2021) Whirled Peas Soul curls, warm cushionfor pearl purse respite in hardened world.Soft for a girlwithout fur,naked cur,unworthy,unfurled,unsure.Herewhirledpeas makesmanifest cream,love’s purest scheme.Middlin's construct, meshwithout outlying extremes,without supreme agendas; with fuzzy, cooperative dreams. De Jackson (aka whimzygizmo) is today’s host for dVerse’ Quadrille Monday, where De would like us to write a 44-word poem using whirl.

Power vs. People Those who aspire to politicsfor power, not peopledon’t study ethics, morals,and integrity. Instead they studyrhetoric, body language, andwhich power mongrels to ally with. For people politicians, we, thepeople, are us, their family.Acting in our best interestsis their guiding principle.   Last one, for a friend.  Tomorrow I will be posting last thoughts on this year's POPO and sharing a photo of all of the postcards received for it, as well as a cento form poem that takes a line from each poem received.  Also included will be a link for anyone who may be interested in participating in POPO 2026.

Avenue of Trees Cloud sky stew merries the world in palest hue. Hot dead air replaced, cool breeze wafts through. It’s soft, the wind, it brushes my skin as doors open, a/c offed, perfect summer day. No appointments, deadlines; I take a ride on my bike down the avenue of rustling trees. Another one for a friend.

Before I go any further in the post, don’t think my choice of a song with tea instead of coffee means I like tea better than coffee. Both are consumed in equal measure through day and night, with hot coffee ALWAYS first thing upon waking. I think I would implode into a puff of vapor if I didn’t get that life-sustaining brew.

Leonardo’s Eyes Watching Ken Burns’ doc on DaVinci felt a little like having a magician’s secrets revealed; ahas on how he created light on canvas, bringing people, places, things to life. As I look outside this morning, watching cloud veils fall and shift aside for sun, I see through Leonardo’s eyes. This is a card I sent to a friend/blogmate as part of the POPO festival.

Mouth Cemetery is located about 20 miles north of here, in Montague, MI.  Reports of it being haunted have surfaced over the years, and I visited there some time ago to walk the grounds and take pictures and see if I picked up on any weird vibes.  I didn't feel anything strongly, but after getting home and looking at the pics, I noticed that there was many orbs clustered around the iron fence that surrounds the cemetery and around one of the signs. 

    Bike Ride – ‘Nother Endingrails are paved, conveyance on flat measuresshoes and tired frames are bouncing bumps graded; right direction’s comfort’s treasurelong arms, green sleeves, holes of chainsawed stumpsreaching out to thrill, feeling season’s fluxwinds are brushing cheeks, humus in the airdappled shadows flicker autumn movies’ flairsparkles on the river, geese are taking flight…

HAPPY HALLOWEEN ALL! I've been gathering pictures all October for this post.  Some were taken at the school, others at the library, and many at Old Faithful, FMG.  Besides the tombstones with epitaphs above, from a dVerse prompt, are already mentioned photos, a short video, and a Spotify playlist that was put together last year.  I hope you enjoy the Halloween celebration as much as I do. 

Syn on the Cross(roads) Hanging, crucified at the crossroads,splintered, indecision-pounded flesh,pained with gravity’s choice probes,exploring outcome receptors, burnedcircuits sizzling, char-curling nostrilsinhaling stench of the rancid future. This concludes Cascadia Poetics Lab's Poetry Postcard Festival 2025 poems and postcards.  It's not quite over yet though.  There are 3 more that have been sent to my friends and blogmates, Kerfe, Alexandra, and Jules.