The Red Cross tells me there is nothing to fear, and no harm.
However, they are sticking an awfully big needle into my arm.
This organization is happy to get a donor like me.
After all, I have the rarest type which is positive AB.
I have to lie on a table horizontally
as my crimson liquid goes into the bag rather slowly.
The nurse says I am done, and she extracts the needle carefully.
Holding my arm with gauze, I feel a little dizzy.
I get up from the table rather lethargically.
They offer me all I want of doughnuts and iced tea.
Here I am with the Red Cross in Pennsylvania.
How long will my blood take to reach the Count in Transylvania?
An older poem of mine reposted for the Halloween season
Smoked gauze drifts across
the burnished face of the moon
revealed & concealed
Not nearly long enough, a king’s words
what to expect from a tyrant's paradox absurd
She holds the cobalt blue bowl to her lips
making sure not a drop is lost as consumed
a grape tint gauze tied gently around her hips
it tells of an impregnated womb
a farewell toast to the warriors aboard ships
or a drink of what they’ll lack, that and more
of the destiny a young husband has in store
departing are ships, she ponders them upon the sea
the open book in front of her kept unread
behind her, replacement ships underway, as relief
what has been too long, for any sailor in dread
out at sea in despair of the unknowing, the grief
Of sailors jumping overboard, an S O S ignored
what any wife can’t bear, their king has no empathy
furious are the wives of the lies told
a sword has stricken through the hearts of gold
replacement ships finally, underway to relieve
what has been too long for a sailor out at sea
In a world where love has forgotten its place, lost all meaning, left floundering in the mud—courage has found its nirvanic horizon, its ruby flames rise up in the end~ Poetess
Destroyed, slain,
smashed and driven to the ground~
a brutal odyssey of dispiritedness
of rude awakenings endured
around this, fire kept burning within
intoxicating every vein in my body
when welled up eyes, pools of tears fallen
I was the ocean, the lone firebird that flies over
a lone star ablaze, weightless, free-spirited
and alas, rising from the ashes
in glorious splendor for all to observe and marvel
born outside rose walls, from wind, at night,
from red clay, the flowers and the mud,
weeds and roots they know my name
its not attention I seek, its resonance
smashed and driven to the ground~
ignored, displaced, and all but forgotten
and from this despair, I am the phoenix rising
f r o m t h e a s h e s are the gauze wings,
refined in sapphire gossamer velveteen
walls turn to rubble, no rose-stone left unturned,
left unseen is what most is valued, light sifts thru
I’ve won life’s prize—contentment's invaluable gifts
His soles grate from cuts on bare feet,
eyes growing hazy, rattling a waif’s hum
and he freezes, quivers as night enfolds
like pointed ice tearing a heart in scraps .
A ruptured cry mirrors a dusky face,
while weary thoughts keep the stars awake
praying for grace to tide the lonely breeze,
where out there, a street child drifts on mud
to beg, plead for a morsel of tomorrow.
Can’t he be a kid just running along the grass
in a gracious place tucked in a home,
Where laughter glows...
A childhood scene that’s not a plague?
But then...dreams are gauze-thin,
needing hope’s reprieve .
And those forever on the run,
Vain like rain ‘pon a verdant wood
Lush with leafy weeds wildly grown.
Or early morning’s fog in haze,
Gossamer gauze in its sheer mood
That vanish in lingering laze.
Or take a sun, rising nigh late
From behind tall hills like a hood,
That sets, ere entering my gate
Imagine a mid-summer’s breeze
Bare before I have had it good,
And faces doldrums’ sudden freeze.
Poems all, I was pregnant with
Once ‘pon a time, but now to brood
And miscarried nigh oh like a myth.
_______________________
Reflections |12.03.2026| breeze/wind, fog, sun, woods/weeds, tercet
Bold atlas moths congregate
Around lily pools... then wait
Until stars' resplendent light ,
Awakens their flitting rite.
And winging through air- brushed haze
Each laced rafter all ablaze--
As peak twirlings gleam anew
Like pearled gauze of every hue!
1st place
Shivering
in gusts of black ice
night owl stuck
in grim spot
enshrouded by stern dark gauze
yet smothered grit reigns
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
steel ribs glow molten,
swallowing the day’s last light~
Reunion Tower leans into the flush of dusk.
traffic pulses like slow veins,
while the skyline sharpens,
then softens—a blade dipped in honey.
high above, jet trails fray
into pink gauze,
and Dallas exhales,
shedding its daylight skin.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
wire gauze tremors~
pointed spinnerets pivot,
dew traps dawn’s first light
Butterflies ’ rickshaw
Fabulously seductive
Besieger butterflies
Scolding with their
Prolific tickling waltz
As a vague obscure vail
Curtain of gauze
With a see- through mask
In a fluorescent hint of
Celestial glittery spark
In the velvety wing- flapping
Fluttering of fairies
Knocking on the entrances
Of the untold deep
Heart utterances
Miss Princess
In Cloudland
shaking a leg
Throwing a pirouette
In the haughty clouds
Dream Prince intoxicated
On trapping stimulation
Sophisticated simulations
Sweeping away
Tormenting love’s traps
For him shocking
Pathetic dummies
In fog of shroud of hesitation
A storm of indignation
The tension hindering bolt
Couldn’t scare away
This fairy- tremor inducing
Butterfly dance fading atmosphere
The swivel of her skirt casts
a pale silhouette around a thin frame--
her face riddled by a strange look
obscured by dazzle of yellows
from a moonlit skyline and lamp posts:
Bright cluster of blooms dwindles
against her stoic gaze,
her dark blouse stained by some
gauze of grief-- she walks
poised ... yet anonymously alone.
Gates of hell were opened
Guttural groans were heard
Grotesque ghouls overhead
Gowned in gossamer gauze
Gnarled fingers reached for me
Guilefully, they took flight
Gory night of bloodshed
SEPTEMBER’S GRAY SHAWL
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
September fog, a grey shawl,
settles on the fields, the trees,
erasing edges, softening lines.
the sun, a ghost behind gauze,
offers no sharp edges,
only a mist-diffused light.
footsteps muffled on the path,
each one a gentle drumbeat~
walking meditation.
soul softens~
between inhale and exhale,
a quiet contemplation.
thoughts unfurl
like ferns in the damp earth~
clamor fades.
what remains~
the quiet hum
of my own inner landscape.
The red pen hovers like a hawk,
its beak sharp with erasure.
Words are stripped of their fever,
left pale, bloodless, trembling.
A thought, once naked,
is swaddled in gauze—
so the wound won’t offend.
The page shivers in silence.
I watch my tongue,
tethered in the mouth’s dark stall.
A candle tries to speak in flame,
but the wax floods its throat.
Behind the curtain,
the truth grows mildew,
while the official story
shines like polished bone.
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