The events in Ukraine aren’t a war, but an invasion for Putin’s sport — They are slaughtering people in Ukraine every day. People just like you and me. The only difference is they are unfortunate enough to live in Ukraine. Leader Putin of Russia wants to claim their democratic, free nation as part of the empire he wants to create. I regard Vladimir Putin…

Dating after fifty is not like being twenty — Hi, I’m Louisa and I’m glad to be here again The last time I stopped by to see you I had set up a blind date online for myself And I promised to tell you what happened. Here goes, and this time it won’t be a poem: My stomach felt…

Grandmother from my novel isn’t called Nana — Note: this is a blog post version of a book chapter. Thus, I’ve not added section dividers or more photos. Jemima Cornflower turned to look one more time at the garden she had planted. It was too early for most of the food crops to show if they were growing…

A new way to develop greater depth in your characters — Any of you who read my Medium poems and articles on a semi-regular basis have noticed that I sometimes mention my novel-in-progress, currently titled Burnt-Over Memories. I had planned to spend more time working on it this Fall and spending less time on Medium. I certainly don’t write on Medium…

The characters that live in my subconscious mind are a rowdy bunch at times, interrupting my dreams with their nightly dramas. Some of these dreams feel like pieces of karma, others feel like they ended up at the wrong address when they landed in my dreams. Even the narrator is…

Our resistance to pain — Pain finds the weakest points At the worst times, always Pain is produced in the brain And we have the power to stop it, Or over-power it, science says. At what point does our power lose To pain’s persuasiveness Throughout the brain? How can we silence it, crush it, Break through it to regain Our access to the brain’s More pain-free…

a haiku

A prompt reply to Lucy Dan — Bravo, Brie. You always grab too much attention at these formal affairs. You and your fancy red coat. At least, Brie, you don’t smell bad. Our cousin Feta from Greece usually tries to push her way into these heavy white tablecloth affairs, although savvy hosts place her where she can…

I hated to say goodbye — My last cat left this world on March 29. My handsome, sweet, cuddle-loving, blond-colored kitty, Golden Boy. Golden Boy had just turned fifteen. He was plagued with diabetes for the last eight of his years. I’ve always felt his tolerance for diabetes was sure evidence of his sweet nature. For…