SOLC7: Laundry

March 7, 2016


Five jeans, three leggings, one pair of legs on the move.

Blue favorite shirt, two sweaters, wrap her up in comfort.

Fashion blouse, cute striped T-shirt, somethings new.

Socks – seven pairs, six singles, where are the missing ones?

One suitcase, three bags, hamper full of clean clothes, cosmetics and purse.

Two shopping trips, evening talks, tens days passed fast.

Snacks. Keys. Hugs.

Four flights of stairs, three roommates, Tweets, and 1000 laughs.

Laundry will come home again and so will her stories.

Elizabeth hanging out with her roommate and friend at the men's basketball game. Go Lancers!

Elizabeth hanging out with her roommate and friend at the men’s basketball game. Go Lancers!

SOLC: March Madness Call Outs

March 20, 2015

Voices from the living room burst loudly:


Where’s the foul?

That’s not a foul.

Must be a ghost foul.

Got nothin out of that break.

Threw it away.

Ooohhhhhh! He drained it. How’d he get that?

That was a nice shot. Too little too late.

That was taking it to the hole strong.

Step back. Throw it down. In your eye.

Ohhh blow by. Ooohhhhhh give and go.

Did you see that? Clutch.


March Madness is happening in basketball, on TV, in my living room.





SOLC: A Smile

March 19, 2015

I read a poem at Chocolate Delight blog called What’s in a Smile? The poem made me think of what makes me smile, the inspiration for my poem today. (Thank you, CJHamilton)

What makes me smile?

Sunshine streaming through the window. Warmth fills the room. My senses spark energy.

What makes me smile?

A child’s handwritten note saying, “You’re the best teacher ever!” A card details a colorful picture. “We miss you!” covers another.

What makes me smile?

Listening to my daughter share about her day, my son helping me carry groceries, and my college-oldest sending a text to say “Hello”.

A smile makes me shine. A smile tells a child he can do it, to persevere through the hard. A smile brings meaning without words spoken.

A smile emerges while writing. A smile grows reading posts. A smile grins reading comments from those dear and slicers just introduced.

A smile. What is a smile? What makes you smile?

SOLSC: Reflections

March 31, 2012

SOLSC has been a wonderful experience of learning with others. My notebook is filled with entry ideas gained from you and noted stories I want to remember. I have encouraged new slicers, formed connections, and strengthened ones I’ve known before.

My belief in myself as a writer has increased! I have taken risks in playing with words and have been pleasantly surprised with people’s comments. Thank you. My writing is developing and revising is becoming more of a delight rather than a challenge. It has been fun commenting, encouraging as I have been encouraged. Reading, commenting, and growing with you has been a joy!

As evidence of my growth, I played with words this morning, relaxing in the moment as I tried to do what was modeled for me. You see, your posts are modeled craft for me to savor, learn, and try. Today, I would like to honor Elsie at Elsie Tries Writing and the way her post yesterday inspired me to try something new.  Elsie “squeezed a poem from a single word“, so I tried it with the word ‘Reflections’ on this last day of the SOLSC. Blessings to you all as you learn, connect, and grow as writers. Slice on!


Core of SOLSC

Reflect on letters seen

Lists of notes,


Fills inner tier!



Slice on!

SOLSC: Spring is Anew

March 30, 2012

Spring is here and the trees,

bushes are flowering.

Colors burst brilliantly

Nature seems to be creating an orchestra

of uplifting music.

Morning greetings mix

bird flutterings.

Sunshine waves down

kissing the air with warmth.

Spring is anew!

***I subscribe to Your Daily Poem to increase my like of poetry. Poets amaze me with the craft of words, the rhythm and snapshots with deep meaning. This week, a beautiful poem by William Wadsworth was shared called Written in March. It captures Spring so delightfully.

SOLC: Niece’s Poem

December 20, 2011


I miss that place

Where I used to be:

My childhood land

With the lavender tree.

I miss that grass,

And those golden fields,

The times we used twigs

For our makeshift shields.

I miss that pond,

With the brand-new deck,

Where we’d use a canoe

To make our trek.

I miss that barn,

With the musty stalls,

Which I never minded,

Never minded at all.

I miss the house

On the big, tall hill

With the dark green shutters

Above the windowsills.

I miss our swings

And the climbing tree

That stained our hands

And feet and knees.

I miss the horses

And their comforting smell

With sparkling eyes that

Held my secrets well.

I miss the path running

Through the woods

Where I skipped and laughed

As lively as I could.

I miss my grandfather

and his good ol’ dogs

and doing chores

and catching frogs.

I miss my grandmother

And her sweet smile

As I sat in her kitchen

And did dishes awhile.

I miss those strays,

The cats we had,

Whose kittens we’d catch

And get scratched real bad.

I miss those days

As we lay in the sun

Soaking up all the rays

And just having our fun.

I miss those cats,

And their colorful fur,

Especially Buttercup,

My favorite, her.

I miss dear Grandma

And her warm hugs

And her talent and her laugh

And her homemade rugs.

I miss ol’ Gramps,

And his mischievous ways

and him talkin’ fast

and us balin’ the hay.

I miss that path

That meandered in the trees

Where the branches creaked

And whispered in the breeze.

I miss the horses,

And the bridle leather

And feeding them oats

In all kinds of weather.

I miss the swing,

All knotted and worn,

And the mulberry tree

Where our clothes were torn.

I miss that hill,

With our little house,

That held just us

And sometimes a mouse.

I miss that barn

With the stalls and hayloft

Where the sparrows gathered

And the hay was soft.

I miss the pond

Where my favorite horse died

And I sat next to the water

And I remember I cried.

I miss the grass

That grew thin and tall

And hid all the bugs

And stole our baseballs.

I miss that place

From my childhood,

But I’ll never forget it.

I don’t think I could.

SOL: Grandma’s Cookies

December 20, 2011

Last week, I met with our writing study group Ruth and I are facilitating. I featured the book, Sugar Cookies Sweet Lessons on Love by Amy Krouse Rosenthal, as a springboard for our writing.

Memories of  Grandma flooded my thoughts shaping into a short poem with immense meaning.

Grandmother’s Cookies

Aroma of belonging

Morsels of happiness

Sweetness of endearment