I’ve been swimming every day this week. Looks like I won’t be making it today. 
Bummer! Here’s a haiku about my deep despair.
Crap, feck, darn it, damn
Clouds opened up drenching all
I might as well nap.
Peace, people!
Month: April 2016
Spring
I published this last year. Earth Day seems a good time to reblog it.
I. Around the corner
Lurk petals ready to bloom.
Spring where have you been?
II. When robin first sings
All nature stops to listen
Welcome back my friend!
III. My heart is stirred by
Lengthening days, earth’s rebirth,
Warmth of soil and sun.
Tipping Sacred Cows
Walk on the wild side
across the unpaved
alley where the bulbs
in the street lights
have long since burnt out.
Climb the fence clearly
marked No Trespassing!
Take aim at the sacred
cows, tip them over in
night’s pastures.
Skirt civilization’s
political boundaries,
imaginary lines etched
on two dimensional
world renderings.
Venture too close to the
edges, and if you’re lucky
you might fall into
the realm of the
heroically unsalvagable.
The Edge
I stopped at the edge of the forest, my feet toeing the line
Between sunlight and shadow, where squirrels scampered
Among crisped leaves, up and around the magnolias. No physical
Barrier barred my way, no fence or wall impeded, yet
My eyes lost focus in the dappling of the light, and I
Hesitated to stray outside the confines of the civilized
World, where the rose-scented wind had my back.
A Matter of Lice and Death
Now and again I find it amusing to browse Craiglist for employment opportunities. And who knows, one day I might find the perfect job, namely one that pays me a large sum of money for doing very little work. Oh, and it must be a position to which I can report as suits my schedule.
Studly assures me that I need not work, but occasionally I’d like to have a bit of my own money so I can purchase things like birthday and anniversary gifts for him without having to fib. “Oh, that $200 missing from our account, um, that was for groceries.”
He knows I don’t buy groceries, so why do I bother? It’s part of the game, I suppose.
Anyway, I looked on Craigslist this afternoon and discovered a few interesting positions:
Of these, Head Lice Removal Technician and Funeral Associate sound promising. Who’s willing to serve as a reference?
Steps
Clutching her handbag tightly in her left hand, Mary Riley gripped the rail at the top of the steps outside St. Vincent’s with her right. For the hundredth time that winter she wondered …
Source: Steps
Her Collection
Her Collection
by Leslie Noyes
Pictures developed by her own hands arranged in haphazard collages
Adorned her rented flat. Categorized by color, style, and cut on poster board
Displayed on every available smooth surface. Dozens more she had stored
Beneath her narrow bed, occasionally swapping them out for those plastered
Around the room. She found one image in particular fascinating this day: A hand,
Dismembered, floating in a pool of viscous red. Soothing and exhilarating. Yes, she
Thought, This will go nicely with the severed head above the bureau. Smiling, she
Admired her shapely form in the cheval glass beside the door. Slipping a scalpel
Into a simple black clutch, off into the night she strolled. Stalking her collection.
Honestly, this started as a poem about a lonely woman collecting fashion photos and dreaming of wearing the items pictured to galas and royal affairs. Somewhere along the way a macabre little muse paid a visit. Maybe another day I’ll write the other poem.
Warning: Graphic Content
Unretouched photos of me sunbathing. 
Peace, people!
Harva’s Place
Prairie sky resplendent in ozone scented spring
Promises made by rainbow’s arch spatter way out yonder
Concerned eyes watch storm’s progression stringing out hope for moisture
In a land that’s always thirsty, cumulonimbus delivers mixed blessings.
Distant rumbles echo over endless grassy acres, singing the clouds home.
My friend Ann (a.k.a. Harva) shot this picture on her land Monday afternoon. There is nothing like a prairie storm.
Keeping the Peace
Heated arguments arise with names called and choices questioned. I hold my own
Most of the time, keeping a cool head even when others seek to goad me into ugly
Banter about this candidate or that policy. Occasionally though my cool demeanor
Slips away leaving righteous anger shooting from my fingertips. Sarcasm
Dripping from my well-schooled tongue. Oh, ye of closed minded beliefs, heed me!
I am Fury. A woman unsubmissive, unintimidated, unrepentant. Ultimately
Remorseful and exhausted. So much for keeping to the high road.
Peace, people.
Praying for Eyebrowz 