Undertaking an unexpected exploration is a worthwhile endeavor

We are word explorers. Always on the hunt for the right thought to inspire and the right word to achieve our goal: write a cogent poem. Even if we do not head out with that in our sights, we find ourselves taking the chance to write the next fabulous verse. There is a sense of adventure in taking on that trek. We respect the art of expression and put ourselves out there to take others along for a ride. In the jungle of creative endeavors, we forge ahead to write this poetic adventure.


Root of the matter:
Life is no small potato,
so keep your eyes peeled.

© Marie Elena Good, 2019




We are two, adrift in open waters,
sailing as ships in the night.
We remain within each other’s wake,
as we chart our course long and uncertain
by the stars above. No shore
can define our route, only starlight
and stiff breezes. And here we seize
this very moment to please
and satisfy our sense of adventure.
I sends you a signal, a bright flare,
one heart’s semaphore to say
all that my flags can convey.
Turning into the wind,
we are two who began as friends,
finding our hearts beyond the sea.

© Walter J Wojtanik – 2019



Tomorrow starts “National Poetry Month” and presents the multiple challenges to write a poem a day. In the past, we here at POETIC BLOOMINGS backed off on our usual regimen to give our poets free reign to accept this adventure. This year will not be the case. We will proceed with our Sunday Seed prompt, our POETIC BLOOMINGS READING ROOM and our Friday Form/Exercise. Maybe these will provide a bit more inspiration in your endeavors to combine prompts write a diverse poem from both. Good luck in where you choose to contribute.

POET INTERVIEW – Linda M. Rhinehart Neas



Walt Wojtanik and I take pride in welcoming poets of all walks of life, years (or moments) of poetry-composing experience, ages, cultures, and belief systems.  In this diverse Garden, there is a common thread that even a quick look-see is sure to reveal: many seeds of faith, blooming brilliantly.  But you might need to dig just a bit deeper to discover we have a minister among us.

Come take a moment of your day to duck in and welcome our longtime poet and friend, the Reverend Linda M. Rhinehart Neas.  Grab a cup of your favorite drink, sit down with us, and discover more about this delightful poet whose poems are consistently uplifting and peace-promoting.

MARIE ELENA:  Welcome, Linda!  Thank you for taking time to sit with me among the blooms to let us get to know you better.

There is a lot of ground I want to cover, but let’s start with this:  How did you come to write poetry?

LINDA:  Great question, Marie!  I began writing poetry at the tender age of half-past six. My mother recited and read poetry to me all the time. At about 8, I wrote my first poem:

My baby brother’s name is Matty
and he is such a little fatty.
When it is time to go to bed,
he laughs, and laughs and shakes his head.

The poem was submitted to Horn Book Magazine for publication. I got my first rejection letter, beginning my life as a writer in earnest.

MARIE ELENA: Linda!  That is just hysterically adorable!  I love that you still remember it precisely, and that you sent it off for publication consideration – at 8 years old!  I admire your mother for introducing you to poets and their work at such a young age, encouraging your own writing, and letting you risk and face rejection. That is love.

LINDA:  Yes, it is.  I didn’t know it at the time, but as with all of us, we tend not to see our parents’ qualities of goodness until much later in life. I am glad I had the chance to thank her for all she taught me. ❤

MARIE ELENA:  I’m glad too.  A good lesson for all.

Is there a particular style you are drawn to, or a poet who inspires you?

LINDA:  There are so many poets that I love to read. Early on,  I fell in love with Emily Dickinson, Edna St. Vincent Millay, Robert Frost, Robert Service, and Rumi, to name a few.  That said, my style is usually free but I enjoy writing haiku and other poetry forms, as well.

MARIE ELENA:  For a moment, imagine you are in your dream writing space.  What does it look like?  Show us around, please.

LINDA: Oh my…well, my dream writing space is close to what I have now – computer by the window with a garden view, books I love close at hand, a cup of tea, plants, stones and angel statues around me. The only thing missing would be the ocean.  In my dreams, my writing space would be in a small cottage that had a view of the sea.  That would be heavenly!

MARIE ELENA:  That sounds heavenly!  Now, you’ve written a poem in that dream space.  Please share it with us!

LINDA:  Love it!  And here you go …


An audience of gulls and sparrows
catcall and whistle,
as the solar footlights rise along the edge
where horizon meets sea.
The Great Director calls for a backdrop spot
which rises upstage, casting a ribbon of light
on the watery floor.
A soft breeze ripples from stage left to right.
Then, on cue, the selkie raises her head,
looking soulfully at the shore.
In a flash of full sunlit spot,
her diva performance done,
she dives below,
leaving those watching –

MARIE ELENA: Thank you, Linda.  Your last word describes what this poem does — leaves me breathless, from title to end.

While doing a bit of digging, I came across this poem of yours I don’t recall ever seeing.

REFUGE by Linda M. Rhinehart Neas

The church was dark,
smelling of incense and beeswax.
Silence spoke from
around the pews and pillars.
This was a blessed place –
Refuge – holy ground.
I sit on the altar steps,
too young to know the

 Mary –
mother, maiden, queen, crone –
hovers above me,
blue mantle, outstretched arms.
Such sad eyes,
I think,
sad perhaps because she knows –
knows the pain hidden deep
within my tiny body –
the pain stuffed deep down
within my soul. 

I wish I could climb up in her lap –
the need for mother comfort
as palpable as the cold marble
on which I rest. 

Outside, rain, children’s voices, seagulls
Create a backdrop for my prayers.
Inside, in the silence,
I hear the softest voice,
“You are safe… rest… you are safe…”
“Momma, I need you…”
“I am here…hush…rest…”

I lean against the altar rail,
eyes closing,
heavy with sleep and burdens
too terrible for a seven-year-old.
Silence, warm and protective,
wraps around me
like Mary’s soft blue mantle.
Fear dissipates like
the heavy incense –
gone, but with a lingering scent,
gone, but ever-present. 

With a start, I wake.
Alone – still –
but for the silence. 

Looking up,
Mary’s eyes,
Soft with mother love –
tell my child’s heart
“You are home.”

*sigh*  This piece touches me deeply, though I can’t pinpoint why it makes me so emotional.  Was this born of personal experience?  If so, may I ask you to tell us about it?

LINDA:  Absolutely!  Yes, this came from a personal experience.

I was raised Roman Catholic – parochial school. My family life was dysfunctional. When things got too difficult for my young heart and mind to handle, I would seek refuge in the empty church. (Our parish had a huge Gothic cathedral-style church. There were downstairs and upstairs worship areas.  Downstairs was used for daily masses, had three altars and was dark wood, marble and stained glass.)

Often, I would simply go kneel/sit at the altar of Mary. The statue had deep, blue eyes that seemed to look right into my heart and soul. As a child, everything is magic, so talking to Mary and “hearing” her talk back wasn’t far-fetched, especially after being raised on Bible stories that I believed and held to be possible, even at that moment.

MARIE ELENA:  Childlike faith can’t be beat, in my humble opinion.

I was interested to learn you are an ordained minister.  My sister is as well!  In this day and age, that still seems to be a relatively rare opportunity for a woman.  What prompted you to seek this career?  Or would you refer to it as your “calling?”

LINDA: For me, it is a calling, which I have had since I was a young girl. I am deeply spiritual. Since childhood, I have known that my mission in this life is to teach and exemplify Love. I wanted to be a priest/minister since childhood.  However, I was always told this was not for women. Nevertheless, Spirit kept calling me to serve. Then six years ago, as I was researching an article for an online magazine, I came across The New Seminary in New York, which had a blended course for Interfaith Ministry. I wrote to inquire about the program and the rest, as they say, is history.

MARIE ELENA:  Speaking as a minister, what advice would you have for the world in which we live right now?

LINDA: Simple!  “Love One Another!!”  These words, although said in various ways, are found in nearly every faith path.

I believe the world needs those who can Love without conditions. This is what I try to share in my poetry, in my writing and in my life.

MARIE ELENA:  That love radiates from you, and is one of the traits I appreciate in you.  I also deeply appreciate that you teach English as a second language to immigrants and refugees!  A woman after my own heart!  I am not a teacher, but I lead two Conversational English classes for immigrants and refugees at the American School for Women and Children, here in NW Ohio.  I can’t even begin to tell you how much I love doing it, and how wonderful the ladies all are.  But, I don’t have to tell you.  You know exactly what I’m talking about!  I’d love to know what led you to this path.

LINDA: Ah…this was also a long journey.  I will try to be brief.

When I was about 10, our local librarian gave me permission to go to the adult section of the library to check out books on the world’s cultures. I spent hours reading about people – their beliefs, traditions, culture – from around the world.

Speed ahead several decades: I am a young mother, and our church got asked to “rescue” an exchange program that had lost their hosts the day that the students left from Spain to come to Maine for the summer. Because I was one of the local journalists, the organizer asked if I could teach the students English, even though I did not have a teaching degree. Next thing I know, I was organizing classes, creating curriculum and leading field trips for a group of 20 students ages 15-19.

I fell in love – with teaching, but most importantly with the students. They were all so grateful for the experience of learning a new language and culture. The joy they brought to the lives they touched in our community was palpable.

Fast forward again – I leave Maine for Western Massachusetts. I graduate with my BA and master’s in teaching. My first class is at a local college, teaching English to international students. Eventually, I get hired to teach at the Center for New Americans. I have been there for seven years, loving every minute.

MARIE ELENA: “The joy they brought to the lives they touched in our community was palpable.”  Linda, the love you have for them is also palpable. What would you say is your favorite thing about it?

LINDA:  My favorite thing about it is seeing my students grasp the language. When English finally clicks and they can express themselves clearly, it is magic!  I also love that I get to use my knowledge as an ordained interfaith minister.

My students are from many cultures and many faith paths. My training allows me to be there for them when times are difficult, when they have had bad news or are in pain from memories of the past. My knowledge of their beliefs helps me to understand where they are coming from and how best to be there for them.

MARIE ELENA: I’m sure they have a great deal of appreciation for you … for your knowledge, your experience, and your love.

Is there anything about it that bothers you?  Anything you would change, if you could?

LINDA:  There is one thing I would change, if I had the power. This change has nothing to do with teaching, but rather how others see and respond to immigrants and refugees.

Working with immigrants and refugees has opened my eyes up to the vast inequities we live with unaware. I would change the belief that because someone has an accent and speaks a different first language, they are somehow inferior. How egocentric to think this!  Many of my students have terminal degrees from their countries and yet, their achievements and knowledge are not recognized. They are required to start from scratch to be able to do the work they love. They are put into menial jobs to make ends meet – teachers, medical personnel, engineers, carpenters – all washing dishes, cleaning houses or cooking food. This makes me so sad.

MARIE ELENA:  Yes, Linda.  Yes.  Never having heard the term, I must admit I had to look up “terminal degree.”  For anyone else who may not know, this is someone who has attained the highest degree in their field of study.

Okay Linda, now for something different.  You have 24 hours to spend anywhere you wish, with anyone you wish, doing whatever you choose.  Where are you, who are you with, and what are you doing?

LINDA: Oh, this is tough!  So many different people I would love to have 24 hours with – living and dead.  But, if I choose just one, I guess I would say my love and soul mate, Roger. We would go to the Provence in France to walk through the places Van Gogh lived and painted, then go to Costa Blanca in Spain and walk along the shore, perhaps meeting up with some of my first ESL students who live there. We would simply “be” and enjoy the cultures, eat fresh local food and do lots of walking and maybe some writing *wink*.


MARIE ELENA:  That sounds lovely!  And I must say it doesn’t surprise me that you and Roger are soul mates.  It shows, on Facebook (case-in-point, the photo above).  It looks like you have known each other forever.  May I be even nosier, and ask if there are children?  Pets?  Grandchildren?

LINDA: We have been together for 18 years of blessed love and companionship. I have four daughters and he has one. We have had pets, but when our dog Molly died, we decided not to have another pet for a while. I have 11 grandchildren.  They are a joy and delight. Grandmothering is the best!

MARIE ELENA: Grandmothering is most certainly the best!

You may already know that I end all my interviews with this:  If there was only one thing we could know about you, what would you want it to be … and why?

LINDA:  I am (most of the time) a positive person. I work to keep my energy high so that I can be a positive influence in the world, lifting others up with my poetry, writing, photography, and art. I believe passionately that the world needs Love and Hope. I try to personify that in my life.

MARIE ELENA:  Wonderful words with which to end our little chat.  Thank you, Linda!  This has been a joy!


Linda’s blog, Words From the Heart:

Information on how to purchase Linda’s books:


Our return to the Decuain (pronounced deck•won), features a short poem made up of 10 lines.  There are 10 syllables per line, and the poem is written in iambic pentameter.  It may be written on any subject.

You may choose among 3 rhyme schemes:


ababbcbcbb, or


For a longer Decuain poem, add more stanzas (to double, triple, quadruple, etc.).




The joys we share will fill our hearts with love.
there’s nothing like the feelings they will bring.
And in our long embrace our hearts will move,
to join together tightly as we cling.
We seize this day; to bow, give thanks and sing.
The evening fast approaches come what may,
and love becomes the most important thing.
So offer in the words you have to say,
compassion that will heal life’s undoing.
Take hold of life and feel your love growing.


Before we head out to explore more great well-known poets and their works, I would be remiss in not honoring the extraordinary works of poetic contributors who have left this mortal coil, but whose poetry remains as an influence and source of solace and comfort. Given their value that they displayed here, they continue to be missed and much loved. I offer selected works that they had allowed us to display here at POETIC BLOOMINGS. They will live in perpetuity and remain in our hearts.

In their interview conversation (see link below), Marie Elena made this wonderful observation:

“Writers on the whole are (in my opinion) a brave lot.  It takes a measure of courage to put words on display for viewing and assessment of the general public.  I can only imagine it takes a heightened sense of commitment and courage for one such as our own Andrea Heiberg, who chooses to write in a foreign language:  English.”

Andrea was instrumental in teaching me a lesson that I have come to embrace and to which I have tried to adhere. I have found a bit of humility in my poetic endeavors. Her ambition to express herself in a language that was not her own was, by her own admission, a struggle. But, that she persevered in that regard says much about her. We (she and I) had a rough beginning, but had come to be friends as Andrea sought my opinion on her works and sought my help in correcting the English language that she had adopted for her expression. But my lasting memories of her come in the online chats we had as she fought her dreadful affliction. Those I certainly miss the most, as I will her. Here confirming her commitment to her Anglicized writings is Andrea’s poem, ENGLISH.

ENGLISH, by Andrea Heiberg

Though I love the sound of my mother’s voice,
her words,
her lullabies,
the stories are stories
and the facts are facts
and when told in English,
there’re just as much stories and facts than any Dane could tell them
in any language
and just as much English.

So, please Mom, up in Heaven,
that English bears the signs of worldwide cultures
we added
up here
from the north,
up in Denmark.

 And how I love that someone added

 Mom, I tell you this in English
though tears drop
down my cheeks
and whether they drop in Danish or in English,
I don’t know.
I just miss you.


Marie’s interview with Andrea Heiberg.


This person whom we had first met at Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer, had been one of our most loyal and consistent contributors.  She often offered such encouraging comments, but wasn’t adverse to be frank in her comments when warranted.  Vivienne Blake frequented many of the well known poetry sites with equal aplomb and earned the respect of many poets far and wide. As with all of our poets, it was difficult to choose just one poem from her portfolio. Another friend and poet gone too soon! She expresses the beauty of her soul in this piece entitled, THE LINDEN.

THE LINDEN, by Vivienne Blake

My skeleton is
bared in purest form,
in slumber for a time through winter’s chill.
Equinoctial gales send my branches wantonly waving,
’til comes the rain, replenishing my strength for summer’s work.
I stir again. My nascent leaves begin to bud and burst out green.
Birds arrive in feathered phalanx. Calm, all is still.
I preen my regal form in fecund glory.
Summer’s heavy cloak bears down on me,
flower pennants brown to seed. My leaves are liquid gold,
now winter nears.
Inexorable cycle
as my robe
rain, through
frost and snow,
in solitary splendour, I reign


Marie’s interview with Vivienne Blake.




Salvatore Buttaci was a friend and mentor to all whose lives he had graced. A man of a strong faith and one who embraced his Sicilian heritage with great pride and respect. He had been a teacher/professor and had continued to “teach” us all through his poetry and flash fiction, two of the strong suits of his writing life. You were honored to get encouragement from Sal, always considered high praise from one of such a giving and loving heart. I am forever grateful for that. Here we celebrate his life through his poetic words, SHADOWS IN MY MEMORY.

SHADOWS IN MY MEMORY, by Salvatore Buttaci

Over time and distance
I contemplate the love we knew,
Replay those happy days
Now shadows in my memory.

It’s so hard believing
Love lies buried beneath the years
We walked the world as one,
Certain love would last forever.

You are somewhere out there.
I am adrift on lonely seas.
Evening is a shroud…
Do you likewise mourn for our love?

The promises we made,
Meant to be shared, not divided,
Have all been tossed away,
Ashes in the barrel of time.

These nights I go to sleep
Where we always laugh and dream
And once more renew vows
We one day swore before God.


Marie’s interview with Salvatore Buttaci


A poet that took a circuitous course in his short incarnation here at POETIC BLOOMINGS, he was another poet we discovered at Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer. Adding to our international appeal on our humble patch of sod, Dyson McIllwain wrote of his Scottish background and travels, in his inimitable style laced with his self-deprecating humor.  He surely seemed to march to a different drum, to a different cadence, which happens to be the poem selected.


TO A DIFFERENT CADENCE, by Dyson Douglas McIllwain

We march to our own beat,
the sweet syncopation that drives
every step; adept at keeping your feet
when others about you are losing their heads.
The pipes blare and wail; a tale told in the hold
of a Celtic clutch and in as much, deeply.
The snap of snare is crisp and a wisp of generations
lives within it. You didn’t begin it, but carry
the torch of your clan and your kin.
Your pace is halting but sure,
and you’re raising your banner high,
a sky full of past and an earth full of futures
converge in the present to give the gift
that life possesses. A different drum;
a heart in living rhythm.


Marie’s interview with Dyson McIllwain.


We miss all of these honored voices and their contributions to this site. I’d like to close with an excerpt from poet McIllwain’s final poem, IF MY WORDS SHOULD DIE:

“They will live as they had lived in me,
much life to give within their breath,
and I am sure I will be remembered
well then after death.”

These poets will indeed be remembered. Rest well, good and gentle poets!


Synchronize with the nature order of life

When we think of harmony we usually think of sound, music. The tight connection, when right, is very pleasing to the ear. But as we’ve seen, harmony can be a synchronicity. It can be a balance of the cosmos where all the planets align. It is the syncopation of two hearts making one sound (again with the sound!). Harmony can be a point/counter-point, or it could be a precise mating of two things, true and equal. Think of how harmony comes into play in your world and write that thought into a poem!




Countless countries,
make-ups, cultures, and creeds
learning the language
through laughter and love.

© Marie Elena Good, 2019



SUNSET SONATA, by Walter J Wojtanik

The moon has long since crested, ready to rest in the bosom of day. Silence is the aria of morning, forming in crisp harmony with the symphony of coming light. Night creeps undercover in hopes of recovering her vigor. She has held aloft to guide stars in their journey, keeping pace on her cycle and spurning the tides to dance. But this is her chance to revive for the next new evening to arrive. The sun comes slowly to tuck her in, a great relief, perchance to sleep.

Crystal water sleeps
as life awakens beneath.
The day is new born.



A while back, I heard about something called boketto. Boketto is a Japanese word that really doesn’t translate into English very well. But, the concept of Boketto is akin to staring at the sky or into the distance without a thought… Getting lost in one’s own self; removing the self from a place mentally. There is no regard to the past and no connection to the future. There is only THIS moment.

From this thought I’ve experimented with incorporating boketto into a poetic form and thus the Boketto was born. The Boketto can be a very personal poem, or can be one of a random observation.

The Boketto consists of two stanzas, One of five lines (30 syllables – 7,7,7,4,5) and a three line (17 syllables – two seven syllable lines and a three syllable line which becomes a refrain if a string of Boketto are written). It expresses a single moment in time!

A variation of the Boketto makes use of two (three) ancient Japanese forms, the Tanka and the Haiku (or Senryu). The moment of which you write will determine the choice. (Haiku – nature; Senryu – everything else).




A cacophony of sound
surrounds this place, surrounds me.
there is no escaping it.
I cannot think
with this distraction.

But as the silence arrives
I wrap it around myself,
find my peace.

© Walter J Wojtanik – 2019


They say with age comes wisdom, and reading the works of this poet is certainly to learn from his observations. Now, that’s not to say I consider him old, but wise even well beyond his chronological age. To call him sage, comes close. Having the heart and wit that puts him in a great poetic place, and “enough” to earn him Poet Laureate honors TWICE at Poetic Asides. Our hope is he stays true to his screen name to Press On in his poetic endeavors. We are happy to have this man in our stable of energetic and accomplished poets. In today’s POETIC BLOOMINGS READING ROOM we feature William Preston’s heart felt poem, “SITTING WITH AN OLD SETTER.”



The old dog’s muzzle now is gleaming white
where formerly it was a copper red;
she still consents to let me rub her head
but nowadays I keep my stroking light.

We’ve been together since she was a pup;
she loved to play throughout the livelong day;
it didn’t take me long to name her Gay
because her silky ears were always up.

But time has done its work, and now we two
are hoary as the January snow;
the time is coming fast for us to go
but till it comes, these quiet days will do.

The old dog’s muzzle now is gleaming white.
I see her still as young and hale instead,
but nowadays I keep my stroking light.


Marie Elena’s interview with William:


April 1st starts “National Poetry Month” and presents the multiple site challenges to write a poem a day. In the past, we here at POETIC BLOOMINGS backed off on our usual regimen to give our poets free reign to undertake this adventure. This year will not be the case. We will proceed with our Sunday Seed prompt, our POETIC BLOOMINGS READING ROOM and our Friday Form/Exercise. Maybe these will provide a bit more inspiration in your endeavors to combine prompts write a diverse poem from both. Good luck in wherever you choose to contribute.

Further more if you would like us to offer a prompt for our own Poem-A-Day in April, let me know in the comments. Give William his just acknowledgement and mention your selection . W.


Grow and develop through encouragement

The caring in a mother’s caress. The wisdom in a father’s smile. The support of a friend or mentor. All contribute to our sense of growth and confidence. There is a positive gentility to being helped along by others who have our interests in mind. As we grow in maturity (or battle the oldness of our age), we still find comfort in those moments we hold so dear. Write a nurturing poem, or of a moment that had contributed to your growth.


She searches in prayer.
He nurtures her there, and sets
her pen to poeming.

© Marie Elena Good, 2019




And she comes to me silently
a respite in a world gone wild,
offering her pointed shoulders
and ears meant to hear every
anguished breath from my chest.
She is the best at easing an anguished heart,
pleasing my sensibilities with
whispered words that build to
crescendo, and a blown kiss that serves
as a memento of her caring.
And she comes to share in every
good word she’s ever heard come
from his soul; she’s come to know his heart.
And from the start she’s felt the love
and caring, and therefore dares to care
and love even more. Love is a seed.
You plant many, but not all will blossom.
And it is natural to nurture these in the purity
of the warmest caress the sun can give,
and you will live in its blooming beauty. It is your duty
to return all she gives. The balance is simple.
You live to love and be loved. You offer your heart,
and naturally, she comes.

© Walter J Wojtanik – 2019


Today we consider the Monchielle, a poetic form created by Jim T. Henriksen.

The Monchielle consists of four five-line stanzas where:

…the first line repeats in each verse.

…Each line within the stanzas consist of six syllables,

…and lines three and five rhyme.

…The rhyme pattern is Abcdc Aefgf Ahiji Aklml…



IN HER SOFT BED, by Walter J Wojtanik

In her soft bed, she sleeps
as dreams dance in her head.
Comfort comes at night fall
forgetting all her strife,
listening for love’s call.

In her soft bed she sleeps,
while the moon and stars shine.
On her pillow she rests
reveling in the sound
that beats within his chest.

In her soft bed she sleeps,
night’s whispers fill her ears.
Gone are tears of sorrow,
his loving arms secure
now, until tomorrow.

In her soft bed she sleeps,
her dance is almost done.
But in her head, she hums,
her melody moves her
as each new morning comes.


To say this space did not grow in status and beauty with the addition of Linda Rhinehart Neas, would be a gross understatement. She had come to add so much to the conversation of poetry here at POETIC BLOOMINGS. Usually one of the first respondents to the prompt, Linda makes quick work to get her point across. She is solid in her beliefs and her convictions, and they come through in extraordinary fashion in her verse.  Today I’ll offer two of Linda’s poems for your consideration, “The Gathering” and “Less Traveled.”


My Photo

THE GATHERING, by Linda Rhinehart Neas

The sun plays shadow games on apples newly picked.
Glowing garnet with flashes of gold and emerald –
jewels of the orchard – ripe with treasure.
Like benevolent pirates – Robin Hoods of farmland –
we harvest the best of the horde.
But what are jewels without settings – simply so many rocks –
so, we clean and polish, fitting our abundance
into bowls and baskets – offerings to those who thirst
for the crisp, bittersweet snap of apples newly picked.

POETIC BLOOMINGS – Day 10 – Autumnal P.A.D. – Harvest


LESS TRAVELED, by Linda Rhinehart Neas

“Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.” – Robert Frost

Security can be a drug, an opioid of contentment.
Once addicted, life becomes predictable and commonplace.
Not one for blending in, I find joy in going where others don’t.
Disney World? No way!
I stand on the beach and watch wild dolphins play!
Manicured lawns? Not here!
My land is wild with shrubs, trees and flowers others call weeds!
Dress my age? What age might that be?
I am timeless, so dress accordingly –
why follow trends, when the palette of fashion
is rich with colors, textures and design!
Me, follow the flock? Heaven forbid!
I find joy traveling the dirt roads,
forgotten byways and highways, instead.

POETIC BLOOMINGS Prompt #221 – “And I Quote” #3

Rev. Linda’s blogs is Words From the Heart