A remembrance and a haiku for the intrepid little lady we lost, Ruth Violet Hiatt Holt.

A poem dedicated to my brother, a victim of suicide, who suffered in silence. Call the suicide prevention hotline at 800-273-8255.

A remembrance poem for a gentle dog who licked my hand and leapt into my heart.

I remember my brother now more with joy at what was than sadness about what will never be.

A footprint, a feather and a leaf, about to be swept away. Remembering my brother in a haiku.

I’m not on the recommended pace to write a poem each day this month to participate in National Poetry Month, but this one happened in about 30 seconds. There will never be another muse like my Dad. He was a remarkable, wonderful, loving, accepting, listening […]

A vignette in the produce section inspired a poem about dads and daughters.

My dad was born 80 years ago today in West Texas as the Great Depression was coming to an end in the shadow of another Great War in Europe, a time before regular Americans realized we’d be involved in that war. With that backdrop and […]

An elegy for three, from the one remaining. They live in my heart-theater, their voices all trumpets and whispers and hugs.

For people like me, there’s a sense of loss from the abrupt ending of Anthony Bourdain’s huge contribution to the canons of travel, food and cultural understanding, and a reluctant but absolutely unavoidable comparison to our own unwelcome experiences with the savage, raw, rollercoaster aftermath of suicide.

Processing continuing grief with a haiku; and also a link to the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention. NaHaiWriMo

A haiku for yesterdays, with images from the enigmatic Bolivar Peninsula of my childhood.

A little Christmas poem from Glover Gardens about sorrow, joy and the Christmas miracle.

Thanksgiving weekend, eight of us family members spanning three generations packed into my Honda Pilot and headed down to the Bolivar Peninsula where I grew up.  We were on a mission to visit Dad’s favorite restaurant down there, and remember him. It was a perfect […]

50-year old photographs celebrate the birthday and memory of one who left us too soon: Steven Thomas Harvell.

I have never said this in a public forum: my brother’s untimely death four years ago was a suicide. Hear my plea: if you’re hurting, please tell someone.

(another) haiku for the best dad ever, on his first birthday in heaven

a haiku about love and death

Labor Day weekend of 2000 was the last time I saw my Mom; we shared cherries and empathy at the beach house on the Bolivar Peninsula.

A gift of a live and blooming hibiscus, with a heartfelt haiku to celebrate Dad’s life.