November PAD Chapbook Challenge 2019: Day 30: A Fetch Story Poem: The End

Image by Enrique Meseguer from Pixabay

When the end came to her world
She left her body behind
Everything she knew was gone
She walked through poison atmosphere
Watching the city burn
She looked up to the sky
At the small sun gone nova
Having glutted itself on the energies
Of its larger companion
The planet flooded with gamma rays
Could no longer sustain life
She grieved her useless efforts
Wishing she could snuff herself out
Like one of the candles that she burned
In the vain hope of countering
The misguided sorcery
That brought about the end
The end of life
The end of hope
The end of everything

~Cie Channeling Princess Ondina~

The final prompt in the November PAD Chapbook Challenge was "The End." I was inspired to write a poem for Team Netherworld's long-running WIP, Fetch. 

Princess Ondina was the reluctant captive regent of the tyrannical monarchy of West Zecor. Misusing powerful magic learned from his mystical adviser Yadira, the daughter and High Priestess of Nyarlathotep, Ondina's megalomaniac psychopath brother King Qweh triggered a reaction in the planetary system's smaller sun, Zetar Beta, causing it to begin devouring its larger companion. This ill-advised action brought about the doom of Zecor (Zetar 6). Princess Ondina is the previous incarnation of Fetch's female protagonist, Pepper Baiij. 

The reincarnation sequence of the Fetch story was born because I had long wanted to write a backstory for the third season original Star Trek episode The Lights of Zetar. This episode tends to be pretty much universally panned, and it certainly has its flaws, i.e. if Captain Kirk had referred to a grown-ass woman in her 30s as "the girl" one more time, I swore I was going to jump through the screen and make him wear his 'nads for earrings, but I was fascinated and, frankly, terrified by the malevolent light colony. It provided me many years of nightmares. To this day, even as desensitized as I am to most so-called horror (which generally consists of gore and jump-scares), I still cannot watch this episode in the dark.

Fun Trivia: The Lights of Zetar was co-written by the late Shari Lewis of Lamb Chop fame and her husband Jeremy Tarcher. Lovable Miss Shari definitely had a dark side to her imagination!

Heeding Haiku: Senryu: Runaway Steam Engine

doing much too much
the steam engine of my mind
runs over my dreams


Carpe Diem #1789: Winter Trees

Image by David Mark from Pixabay

axe unfolding wood
the lumberjack's hand brings down
winter trees on snow

axe unfolding wood
scent of oils rising from bark
mighty giants fallen

the lumberjack's hand brings down
sturdy wood to build new homes
and for furniture

winter trees on snow
they can serve the people well
if culled thoughtfully


Sustainable forestry practices allow us to live in harmony with nature.

This Troiku was created from a fusion Haiku inspired by a pair of Haiku by Yosa Buson (1716 - 1784).

cutting into with the ax,
I was surprised at the scent.
the winter trees.

unfolding at the
hand of the glass polisher:
a camellia!

© Yosa Buson

Carpe Diem Tan Renga Wednesday on Friday: The Old Pond

I like this frog. This frog has a "don't fuck with me" look about it. I resonate with this frog.

old pond
a frog jumps in
sound of water
splashes on my face wake me
bringing me back down to earth

~Basho & Cie~

The Hokku stanza of this poem was penned by Matsuo Basho (1644 - 1694). The Ageku stanza is all about me.

November PAD Chapbook Challenge 2019: Day 29: Have iPhone, Will Travel

Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay

Have iPhone
Will travel
I've never seen the Northern Lights
I'd like to get them in my sights
To watch their ghostly green glow
As they put on their show
See them dance across the sky
And if I could fly
I'd like to dance into their beams
And leap from stream to stream

Have iPhone, honey
But no money
So I won't be going far
In my beat-up car
But when my beat-up body ceases to run
I'll go and have my fun
I'll ride on the green glow
Who knows how far I'll go?
Dancing in the Northern Lights
I'll become one with the night


The November PAD Chapbook Challenge prompt for today was Have (blank.) 
This poem came out of nowhere. I just wrote it down.

Friday Flashback: Inbox Dollars Tips: Search with Inbox Dollars

Young Richard Tracy knows that using Inbox Dollars search will earn him easy money for doing something he was already going to do.
(Free image from

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This post was originally published on 29 November 2018 on Aunt Cie's Attic (formerly Deliver Me.) 

Disclosure: I am a member of and affiliate for Inbox Dollars. I am not going to get rich finding people to sign up for Inbox Dollars using my link. I will make a small commission. 
Inbox Dollars is one of the longest-running GPT sites. It is legitimate. You are not going to get rich signing up for Inbox Dollars. You will make a few dollars here and there. The payout is at $30. 

I've been taking surveys with Inbox Dollars for several years, but I only recently explored all the other ways of making money with Inbox Dollars.

One of the easiest ways is by using the Inbox Dollars search page. When you log into your account, there is a menu bar at the top of the main page. Choose the search option, and, voila, you will be earning for searches you were going to make anyway. It's that simple!

I find that the Inbox Dollars search works better on my computer than my phone. The page sometimes takes forever to load on my iPhone's Safari browser. So I generally play the mini-games on my phone instead. Yes, Inbox Dollars has games that they pay you to play! Who knew?

I'm currently stuck on level 23 of the bubble monkey game. Those stupid skulls suck, and so does my manual dexterity, let's be real.

The search page and the games (especially my beloved bubble monkey game) are just two reasons why Inbox Dollars is my favorite paid survey app. It's much more than paid surveys, and it is a legitimate survey company, unlike some I have had the misfortune of dealing with.


November PAD Chapbook Challenge 2019: Day 28: Grateful

Image by Matthias Cooper from Pixabay

grateful for what's here
a town far from everything
life in an old house
impossible dreams fade out
bittersweet acceptance in


Today's November PAD Chapbook Challenge prompt asked for a Gratitude poem.

People, you know me. I am not the sort to write heartwarming, Chicken Soup for the Soul, grateful for God and family and Better Homes and Gardens type poetry. I am an agnostic curmudgeon, and the only miracle here is that I'm still alive. They ain't found a way to kill me yet, and neither have I. I believe there is something that survives the death of the corporeal body, and I believe there are advanced spiritual forces which could be termed higher powers. I don't like the Church God, and although I'm willing to judge his followers on a case by case basis, I tend to be mightily skeptical of them.

I was raised Catholic and am the black sheep of a family that tried way too hard to keep up appearances. Today is the ninth anniversary of my father's passing. Although we had a sometimes contentious relationship and he passed his own insecurities down to me, he was a devoted father and I love him. I am glad he isn't suffering anymore. The last five years of his life were increasingly difficult. In the end, he really wasn't himself anymore.

I want to call my mother today. My mother is a loyal person who is too wrapped up in keeping up appearances to see the damage that mindset does. She has no idea who I actually am or what I'm really doing because anytime I have tried to tell her, she shuts me down and criticizes me, so I just let her think what she wants.

My brother and I were once the greatest of friends but now have a civil but distant relationship. 

I love my son with all my heart and soul. There are some hurts from the past from when my mental illness was as yet undiagnosed and my behavior was chaotic.

Leonard Cohen wrote the line "It's Father's Day and everybody's wounded."

I think the same could be said for most holidays.

If you're having a Better Homes and Gardens Thanksgiving, that's great, and I hope you enjoy it. I would just ask that you realize that this is not the case for everyone, and those of us who are unable to have Shiny Happy Holidays are not bad people or just feeling sorry for ourselves for attention. The hurt is real.

Just to lighten the load a bit, here's one of my favorites:

Sandcastle Creations

I remember playing in the sandbox as a child
Hands digging into warm orange-golden grains
My sandcastles were, in reality
Nothing but cloddish bucket shapes
But, languishing in my imagination
I saw them as wondrous perpendicular spires
Climbing up and up to dizzy heights
Where a virtuous knight played out his heroic role
In the theatre of my mind

I couldn’t have imagined then
How pedestrian my life would become
No longer able to earn a stable income
I sit before the computer’s typewriter keyboard
Praying that the laconic moments
Will be few and far between
As I attempt to form a story
Of a dashing but broken hero
Through the curtains I see shadows of branches


I chose the picture because from the back, at any rate, this is very much what I looked like as a child. There is no way I could have known what would become of me or my life. If that little girl had known what kind of worthless and hideously ugly creature she would become, she wouldn't have wanted to live.

I didn't stay cute for long. Even around six years old, it was becoming apparent that I had a terrible overbite. Two years of braces and that dreadful Martian headgear left me with a crossbite, which doesn't play a part in my appearance, but it is uncomfortable. It also left me with dead nerves in a couple of my front teeth and it couldn't close the gaps between my teeth. I ended up having to get an abscess removed, root canals, and caps on my six top front teeth to hide the remaining gaps and the fact that my left front tooth and left incisor are black from the nerve damage.

Dental veneers can hide how ugly my top front teeth are, but nothing can hide how ugly my face is as a whole, unfortunately. I am not at all a good-looking person, and in a world that is biassed towards a certain type of beauty, it has hurt me very much to be as ugly as I am.

Ornery Reviews: Murder in Wizard's Wood

Modern Fantasy

Five out of Five Stars on Goodreads

I received a free copy of this book for review purposes.
If readers purchase a copy of the book through the preview link, I will receive a small commission from Amazon.
The following is a duplicate of my review on Goodreads.

Michael is as good as some better-known authors and better than many others. He builds worlds that come true as I read his stories. His intricate cast of characters both good and evil provides a rich experience on par with many popular fantasy movies. This story had me looking for magic in the ordinary as I did when I was young and immersed in reading Tolkien's work.

I give the book five stars because it is easily one of the best stories I've read in my 54 years. However, there were a few minor errors missed in the editing process, and I have two other nits to pick.

Authors, kindly learn that "obese" is not a nicer way to say fat. Obese is a slur used to dehumanize people with larger bodies, and does anyone actually wear muumuus? I think that Mama Yamai would not approve. By the way, Mama Yamai is a glorious fat badass of a sorceress. I hope she makes more appearances in future Bittergate stories.

Also, as a woman who suffered through 40 years of heavy, often excruciatingly painful periods before the Goddess finally took mercy on me and relieved me of that mess, I didn't find Jedadiah's "you need to take a Midol" joke particularly amusing. As a 400-year-old wizard, you'd think he'd have learned a bit more about women in his time, and I think Mama Yamai would back me up on this.
Nit-picking aside, you can count on seeing my reviews of Michael's work in the future. I am addicted to Bittergate, and if you enjoy exceptionally well-written modern fantasy, you will be too.

~Cie the Ornery Old Lady~

Free use image from Pixabay

Carpe Diem #1778: Moonlight Rail

Image by Myriam Zilles from Pixabay

flying in moonlight
trains travel the winter night
father sings his tale


Today we were asked to revise a Haiku by Masaoka Shiki (14 October 1867 - 19 September 1902). I believe my verse is more an interpretation inspired by Shiki's original poem than a revision. In a time gone by nearly 50 years ago now, my father (31 May 1936 - 28 November 2010) would play his guitar and sing old railway and folk songs. The ninth anniversary of my father's passing is tomorrow and I wrote this poem to honor him.

the wild geese take flight
low along the railroad tracks
in the moonlit night

© Masaoka Shiki

November PAD Chapbook Challenge 2019: Day 27: Acrostic for Angie

Image by Dimitris Vetsikas from Pixabay

All alone adrift
Nothing nice nevermore
Going, going, gone
Intwining imaginative intricacies
Envisioning elusive eternity

Boiling bad blood brew
Love long lost
Unquiet undying urges
Escaping exotic eyes


Today's November PAD Chapbook Challenge asked participants to take one or more of the poems they'd created for the challenge previously and remix them. I took my day 2 abecedarian poem Alpha to Omega and my day 7 free verse poem Angie Blue and turned them into an acrostic using the first letters of Angie Blue.
I'm probably not going to share this poem at the November PAD Chapbook Challenge post because it only makes sense to me. Angie Blue is a poem inspired by various songs that I learned to love as a young teenager in the late 1970s.

Carpe Diem #1787: Autumn Equinox

autumn equinox
blowing dry leaves in the wind
cold wind snaps up warmth


For Jane Reichhold
(1937 - 2016)

Carpe Diem #1786: The Days March On

Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay

reaching for the sun
lotus flowers blooms from the mud
old pond changes
light comes into the shadows
new life emerging each day

deep silence
even deeper as the nightingale starts to sing
beautiful life
sometimes I feel most alive
at night embraced by darkness

snow falls gently
covers up the autumn fields
faraway sounds
it's too cold to go outside
I remain in with my words

scattered by autumn leaves
the old pond
I reflect on the year past
one year leads to another

a last leaf
swirls on the wind towards the east -
first snow falls gently
I look outside and wonder
if there are happy people

farewell verse
as I depart from the train station
forget me not
no-one will remember me
I am something best forgot

~Chèvrefeuille & Cie~

The Hokku of these Renga were written by Chèvrefeuille. The Ageku can be blamed on me.

November PAD Chapbook Challenge 2019: Day 26: A Limerick for John

J. Geils went through diamonds and minks
He had the blues, the reds, and the pinks
He revealed the truest truth
I knew it back in my youth
The only thing for sure is love stinks


Today's November PAD Chapbook Challenge was to write a love poem. Well, if you know me at all, you know what I think about that. So I wrote this limerick in honor of the one who said it best about love, the late, great J. Geils. (20 February 1946 - 11 April 2017)

November PAD Chapbook Challenge 2019: Day 25: A Snarky Senryu: Thanksgiving

Image by Wokandapix from Pixabay

time for Thanksgiving
happy holiday for some
not much for turkeys


Today's November PAD Chapbook Challenge asked for a poem about a meal. If you're in the U.S., American Thanksgiving is coming up in two days, so I figured that was an appropriate meal to write a snarky Senryu about. 

November PAD Chapbook Challenge Day 24: A Dialogue

you had my heart
I only wanted a hookup
you should have said so
you took the chance
you shouldn't lie
you should be more careful who you trust
you should be ashamed
but you're the one who is
how can you be so heartless?
it's your fault for thinking with your heart
why do you think cruel is cool?
I'm not the one sitting home crying
you're a miserable liar
you're the one who feels like dying
I did everything you wanted
and now I'll find someone else to do the same
you are the worst
but I won't take the blame
you are the lowest
but you carry the shame


Today's November PAD Chapbook Challenge asked for a dialogue poem. I had this terrible conversation all too many times in my younger days when my self-esteem was at its worst and I let bad guys do terrible things to me in the vain hope that they would love me back. Being the cold-hearted bitch that I get accused of being when I rebuff the advances of jerks who think I should consider myself lucky that they're paying attention to me is far better than being broken-hearted and feeling used.

The Crazy Creatives Cheerleading Camp's Come As You Are Party + Ornery Musings: Why Book Reviews are Useful

Image by Pexels from Pixabay

As the late, great Shorty Medlocke used to say, howdy solks, I mean folks! If you don't know who Shorty Medlocke was, it's time for you to at the very least hit Wikipedia and brush up on your music history, and then go listen to some Blackfoot, where you can hear Shorty's grandson Rickey shred on some sadly underrated Southern rock masterpieces.

Sadly for you, this post is not about great blues musicians, twentieth-century radio hosts, or great guitarists. It's about book reviewers.

At the bottom of many posts, you will notice the image of a plump owl carrying a couple of books, one with a pentagram and one with an anarchist symbol. This owl is my alter-ego, my inner badass. Where I am infamous for apologizing for myself constantly and becoming defensive quickly, this owl never apologizes (unless she has actually done something wrong) and has no time for defensiveness. If she is under attack, she will fight back, but she doesn't harbor any of the insecurities that I do. Therefore, defensiveness is foreign to her. This owl is unapologetically, authentically herself.

Me, on the other hand, I tend to always wonder if I'm doing something (or anything) right. I am a horrible--I mean adorable--little (okay, large) bundle of insecurities. I have both physical and psychological disabilities, and I also have ADD and dyslexia. Dyslexia does not have only one manifestation, by the way. I read most things clearly, and I'm a relly gud spelur. My dyslexia tends to present itself with numbers more than words, and I have a great deal of trouble with tests involving pattern recognition, which led to me being labeled borderline retarded when I was in the sixth grade. That label was a thermonuclear hit to my already severely compromised self-esteem, particularly when one of my nastier classmates overheard my parents and the school psychologist discussing it in the hallway and proceeded to ask my father if I really was borderline retarded, to which he naively replied, "yes, I'm afraid so," rather than telling her to run along as he should have.

So, here I am in my fifties with a lifetime of abject failures behind me, disabled and living in poverty, and I review books for a living. Seriously, that is how I eke out a living, and sometimes I become rather cynical about it. Here I am, doing something completely useless yet again because being useless is my M.O. in life. I would do very poorly as something like a virtual administrative assistant or customer service agent. I have moderate anxiety about talking to people on the phone, and if I get bored, I get distracted. I would be fired from these jobs fairly quickly. However, I can read books. These days I prefer e-books because of my vision and because they don't take up space on my shelves. I also enjoy listening to audiobooks. 

Anyway, I possess the ability to read, opinions are like assholes, and I am an asshole with an opinion. So I sneaked in the back door at the Online Book Club and tried my hand at doing reviews for them. My first few reviews were unpaid, and then I started getting paid for my efforts. Doing reviews for paid review services like Online Book Club means that I can do reviews on request for independent authors without charging money. My costs for an independent review are as follows:

If the book is available on Amazon, you give me permission to have an affiliate link in my review post. You won't pay me a cent, but if someone buys the book through the link, Amazon will pay me a few cents.

If you like the review, you provide a link to it on social media.

You understand that providing me with a copy of your book does not guarantee a positive review. There may be reviewers who get their rocks off writing negative reviews and destroying authors' dreams. I am not one of them. I love giving positive reviews. With most of my less stellar reviews, I find that the problem with the book tends not to be the story itself, but the execution and lack of proper editing. By the way, I am also available as a beta reader.

Very rarely do I give scathing reviews. On the occasions that I have done so, it is because I find the author to be an odious jerk with awful opinions who targets vulnerable people for ridicule.

You may be saying (as I sometimes do), "well, that's all fine and good, Cie, but the world wouldn't stop turning if all the book reviewers were abducted by aliens. Book reviewers do not provide vital services such as emergency services personnel, medical personnel, construction workers, mechanics,  teachers, grocery clerks, customer service personnel, cleaning crews, or, pretty much anyone else provides. Reviewing books is fluffy stuff and isn't a real job. Like, you know, the kind of work that you claim you can't do anymore but probably could if you tried, and don't give me that 'but I can't walk very far or very fast, I can't stand up for long periods of time or my back will start hurting, or, but my diabetes fucks with me and starts making me weak and confused' bit!"

Well, you hopefully don't say that last part, but my inner voice is, not to put too fine a point on it, an absolute twat. Anyway, the overall gist is, most people find book reviewers to be non-essential members of society, and I sometimes feel angry at myself for doing a job that most people see as sprinkles on a cake, not even icing or pretty decorations, just sprinkles. The kind of sprinkles that come in a jar and you pay a couple bucks for them and you sprinkle them on your kid's birthday cake and it makes the kid happy. Except that I have the potential to make people's inner children unhappy with my words.

However, today I read a wonderful review from one of my fellow Online Book Club reviewers, and I would like to share that review and my thoughts on it with you. Please follow this link to read it.

Here is a copy of my comment for the reviewer:

Thank you for your lovely, descriptive review. I had tears in my eyes reading it. Although I grew up in a home with both parents present my family was inadvertently emotionally abusive and didn't understand someone like me at all as they were very perfectionistic and I had learning and psych issues (I have type 2 bipolar disorder that wasn't correctly diagnosed until I was almost 40.) I did a lot of the same things that Eva did, moving out with my now-ex-husband when I was 19, being divorced by 29, having a string of abusive relationships. I really appreciate reviews like yours which tell me everything I need to know about a book, even better than simply reading a sample. Have a good day.

Sometimes you can teach an old dog new tricks. While being a book reviewer is not an essential occupation such as those mentioned in the previous paragraph, nor is it a meaningless occupation. Too many bullies calling themselves critics have given a bad name to critiquing. A professional critic should endeavor to be kind, discussing the best aspects of a work while, if necessary pointing out areas needing improvement.

~Cie the Ornery Old Lady~

Free use image from Pixabay
Cie reviews books and is no longer ashamed to claim it as her profession.
She is also available as a beta reader

I'll bet that some of you would like to know which book I was referring to when praising my fellow reviewer. Well, now you know and can get yourself a copy! 
Disclosure: If readers purchase a copy of this book through the preview link, I receive a small commission from Amazon.

Carpe Diem Weekend Meditation #110: Bush Warbler

Bush Warbler

A spring warbler casts
A dropping on the rice cakes —
The veranda edge.
I feed rice cakes to the birds
The earth drinking up my tea.


Ghost Town Grover Sez:
"I shore don't blame you, Ornery. I wouldn't wanna drink no tea that a bird pooped in neither."

Cactus Clem sez:
"Say, Ornery, you know that sun tea you was brewin' on the front porch? Well, I was kinda thirsty after my stroll on the Lone Prairie, and I done drank it all down. I don't think it had no bird poop in it, though, 'cause it had a cover on it and everything.

November PAD Chapbook Challenge Day 23: Dear Dryer Hose Manufacturer

Dear Dryer Hose Manufacturer,
In the box I found
A dryer hose
Two tension clamps
And instructions that told me
To not use the tension clamps
But instead, use two worm drive clamps
Not included in this box
Why would you do this?


Today's November PAD Chapbook Challenge prompt was to write an instructional poem. I re-interpreted the prompt in order to write a love letter about some very baffling instructions.

Weekend Writing Warriors 24 November 2019 (FA, PA, SF)

I made a new WWW banner using Pixlr, and everyone is welcome to use it if they like.
Click the banner to go to this week's Weekend Writing Warriors blog hop.

Also sharing with:

“Ketil, my friend, I find you a most humorous companion,” the creature stated. “What have we to fear from Nyarlathotep? We are but two lonely souls, one the shade of a once-unhappy Earthman who ended his own life, the other a creature outcast from his kind for possessing too much empathy to allow him to conduct potentially life-threatening experiments on those creatures my fellows deemed inferior? We are not power-hungry, we have no armies of fawning sycophants prostrating themselves at our feet, we have no money at all, let alone monetary excess. To the likes of Nyarlathotep, we are worthless. I do like it that way. Do you concur?”

~Cie for Naughty Netherworld Press~

Yitzy Yithian is a member of the Great Race of Yith who has been exiled by his fellow Yithians for displaying too much empathy. 

Ketil Nagel is the spirit of a Swedish metal musician who sacrificed himself to the Elder Gods.

The Great Race of Yith and Nyarlathotep are the creations of H.P. Lovecraft. Ketil Nagel and Yitzy Yithian are the creations of Team Netherworld.

Carpe Diem #1785: Hoarfrost

an hoarfrost morning
the ghosts of my ancestors
drifting on chill winds


I'm not entirely sure that this Haiku entirely plays by the classical rules. It doesn't lose its meaning for me when I flip the first and third lines, which is always the litmus test. However, for me the most important aspect of poetry is expressing the thought, not adhering to exact rules, so--you know me.

November PAD Chapbook Challenge 2019: Day 22: Mr. Perfect (Tanka)

Image by Jonny Lindner from Pixabay

he's honed his image
everything is perfection
on point tip to toe
such a perfect gentleman
until he takes off the mask


Today's November PAD Chapbook challenge asked for a poem about Mr. (blank). So I wrote about the kind of guy who has the perfect image but behind the mask lurks a monster. I've known a few of these guys.

I am finally caught up with the November PAD Chapbook Challenge prompts!

November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 21: The Traveler: A Senryu

Image by Reimund Bertrams from Pixabay

I travel away
to worlds distant from my own
where I find myself


Today's November PAD Chapbook Challenge asked for a Travel poem. Here is mine.

November PAD Chapbook Challenge 2019: Day 20: Light Blitz

Image by Johannes Plenio from Pixabay

light the night
light my fire
fire of passion
fire of hell

hell hath no fury
hell hath no remorse
remorse for what's said
remorse for what's done

done to death
done and gone
gone like yesterday
gone in a flash

flash and dash
flash of light
light the way
light the night

night without dreams
night without end
end of the world
end of everything

everything ends
everything dies
dies like your love
dies like my dreams

dreams of yesterday
dreams of tomorrow
tomorrow never comes
tomorrow comes too soon

soon the sun rises
soon the night falls
falls from the heavens
falls to its death

death is the end
death is the beginning
beginning of a new chapter
beginning of a new tale

tale whispered in darkness
tale too ticklish to tell
tell me a lie
tell me the truth

truth is subjective
truth will set you free
free falling
free to run

run from the past
run from the pain
pain holds on forever
pain colors all



Today's November PAD Chapbook Challenge asked for a Light poem. So, I did a Light Blitz. It turned out kind of heavy, though.

Closing Comments on This Blog

At this point, this blog is only a place for sharing links, and the only comments I've been getting are comments like the following fro...