Thursday, December 30, 2010

SING/ 2011


Start by singing an elegy
to what's slipping away.
Single out the tune you like,
place the downbeat on reset.
The new minute will become a year,
stretching blindly as usual.

I look over my shoulder,
the past is diving for my ankles,
wanting me to return.
Back, come back.

I'll run, not walk,
to the luminosity
that shines
on the quixotic path ahead.

Remember the world of yesterday,
a facade that needs a nip and tuck
just to seem presentable.

Don't wrap yourself
in a threadbare mantle
of the past.
Don't lie down with scamps just yet.

Veer off the path
that looks so right,
but is so last year.

                                    Year of the Rabbit

May you have the year you've been waiting for!

Tuesday, December 28, 2010

MAGPIE/ Prompt #46

                                                     photo/ willow/ magpie tales


Is an embrace with
a leather glove the same as
a bare hand caress?


Baby lambskin glove
hides the hand that commits a
perfect bloody crime.

@copyright/all rights reserved

Many thanks to Willow/ Magpie Tales, for all the terrific prompts this year..much fun was had by all!!  Happy New Year to the whole Bloggy Universe!!

Sunday, December 26, 2010

RSVP/ Poetry Potluck #16

I WELCOME Poetry Potluck #16. THIS WEEK we are tempted to write about CELEBRATIONS!!  FESTIVITIES!!  And why not...'tis the season...


An unexpected promise of revelry
is slipped under the door,
an elegant card handwritten
with time and place to attend.

Any invitation to celebrate
is welcomed as I stir
within the winter solstice,

when icy ribbons
tie up the horizon
from the edge of December,
till the beckoning of spring.

Here's my grateful RSVP:

Thanks for one more party,
to gather at the hearth,
to hold close a friend and sip a toddy,
help drive old winter away.

Since carousing is indicated,
I'll be dressed to kill.

@copyright/all rights reserved/ 2010

Thursday, December 23, 2010



I like that I have to bend down
on my knees
to see Christmas
in a ten inch tableau.

In my white garden
beside the frozen pond,
a soundless manger
is filled with straw,
and curious figures huddle
in from the snow.

Eyes stay fixed
upon a radiant babe,
passing a secret to his mother.

A wishing star
spins across the sky,
leading kings
to slip past their kingdoms,

because a rumor told them
to come sing
a song
whose words
come from within.

Wishing the best to all my friends...Merry Christmas...Happy Holidays...May your days be blessed!

@copyright/all rights reserved/2010

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

S'Mores Martini...

I DON'T WANT TO PROJECT an image of myself as someone who always has a cocktail at hand.  Not that there's anything wrong with that!  I'm sort of attracted to many ideas without actually partaking of them.  But I would like at least a sip of this holiday fantasy, just to quench my curiosity.  This could be dessert, a child's favorite brought forward to adult desires.  Call it what you wish...drink it when you wish...Happy Holidays!!


1 oz. chocolate vodka
1 oz. Baily's Irish Cream
1 oz. chocolate liquor
1 oz. Cream de Cacao
1 oz. vanilla vodka
2 oz. heavy cream
Toasted marshmallows, graham crackers (crushed), chocolate syrup, bamboo Martini skewers.

Dip the rim of glasses into the chocolate syrup, then into the crushed crackers. Chill glasses in freezer.
Pour all remaining ingredients, except marshmallows, into a Martini shaker filled with ice, and shake until well blended.  Pour into really nice glasses.  Skewer the toasted marshmallows on the bamboo skewers, place across the rim and serve..for about 2 servings.
Thanks and a toast to The Martini Diva.

NOW IF YOU just don't want to fuss around, let's cut to the chase and before you can say cheers, you can whip up this little item:


2 oz. chocolate liquor
1 1/2 oz. vodka
1/2 oz. grated chocolate

Shake to mix all, except grated chocolate.  
Strain into chilled Martini glass..garnish with grated chocolate.  Serves 1.

No fuss, no muss!  Happy, Merry!!

Sunday, December 19, 2010

MAGICAL THINKING/ Poetry Potluck #15

This week's Poetry Potluck #15 is based on Reflections, Interpretations, and Musings.  Perfect for the end of the year...I put all three into a bowl and came up with...


I want magic to be actual,
the rabbit to be bona fide,
not a velvet glove with furry ears,
when the magician says voila!

I know that martyrs such as I
must be pierced by arrows
before we become saints.
I only ask for a helping hand
to get up to cloud nine.

I want St. Jude
to count the days
of my novena with me,

not shilly-shally around,
but grant my prayer
as soon as he knows
that I need to be saved.

I myself will not take
the job of sainthood lightly.

@copyright/all rights reserved/ 2010


Wednesday, December 15, 2010

MAGPIE/ Prompt #45

                                              photo/ willow/ magpie tales


First to hear my plea.
First to touch the Blessed Babe.
Mary, light my days.

@copyright/ all rights reserved/ 2010

Thank you Willow, for this lovely Prompt...looking forward to reading all the other writers!!

One and all...the best Holiday season!!

Tuesday, December 14, 2010

Mr. Duality...


Every cat is a doppelganger.
The one he is on my lap,
the fierce one he dreams himself to be.

While jumping off the table
he arises from the jungle.
When landing on the floor
he's a ball of fur
waiting to be petted.

Mr. Duality slips
towards the water bowl.
He sees a gazelle sipping
at the edge of a muddy pond,
inhales the poor souls fear
beneath his grasping paw.

But the judgment in his claws
tears my indigo scarf
into wispy shreds,instead.

In his eyes
I see the twin running away.

@copyright/all rights reserved/ 2010

Sunday, December 12, 2010

DANCER/ Poetry Potluck #14

THIS WEEK, Poetry Potluck #14, offers the opportunity to indulge in Hobbies!  Passions!  Pastimes!  Entertainment!  Where do I fit in??  A bit of this and a bit of that....


Show me
to a table,
don't pull
out the chair,
take the whiskey
glasses off,
and yank
the cloth aside.

Let me
take your hand
for a
boost up,
as I step upon
your knee,
see how
and refined
I am,
like the swan
in a
famous ballet.

I take flight,
I come to rest,
my crimson shoe
to burn
a hole
on the spot.

the spotlight
here, boy,
don't miss
my modus operandi,
as I seize
a point in time
to do
my legendary dance.

Jazzy tap,
satin tango,
bring me
a sloe gin
to sate this drought

Toss a coin
if you wish
if you want
the show
to go on.

I'm the one
who dresses
in neon.
the world,
on tables.

@copyright/all rights reserved/ 2010

Friday, December 10, 2010

Milk Punch...

NO EGGS..this is not eggnog...this is MILK PUNCH.  An old fashioned drink, tastes like a yummy custard..sip, don't gulp.  During the holidays, good at teatime, or cocktails, or to the fireplace..or the pool.  Pretty glasses, please!!  Pass the cookies, please...more, please!  Where's the milk?  I just milk....


8 cups of fat-free vanilla ice cream
3/4 cup bourbon or brandy
4 tsps. vanilla extract
1/2 tsp. cinnamon
1/2 tsp. grated nutmeg
ice cubes 
4 tsps. grated bittersweet chocolate

Combine first 5 ingredients in a blender+ 3 or 4 ice cubes.  Blend until ice is completely mixed with ingredients.  Pour immediately into attractive glasses or cups.  Sprinkle chocolate on top.  Yield: 12 servings.

                         Good to sip while trimming the tree!!

Wednesday, December 8, 2010

MAGPIE/ Prompt #44

                                        photo/ willow/ Magpie Tales #44


It looked like a hill to me,
a cement sidewalk slanting down to Lydig.
In the summertime I skated
beside the apartment buildings,
starting atop Brady Av,
speeding along Wallace,
passing my building on the corner,
and stopping to unbuckle my skates
for an ice cream when I reached Good Humor.

The metal wheels came to a stop
when I fell or bumped into one of the old ladies
folding her wooden chair,
even sometimes my very own grandmother,
chair in hand yelling, you're going to kill yourself,
who goes so fast, are you crazy?
All in English and Russian and
what was she talking about?

But when the snow piled on the sidewalk,
just around THE HOLIDAYS!!
I pulled my sled out of the creepy storage bin
in the basement of my building,
heard a noise that sounded
like my heart beat
in that pile of Mama's junk.

I grabbed the wooden sled,
caught a splinter right away,
sucked the blood and spit it out,
pulled my Flyer into snowy daylight,
to the top of the hill, my winter paradise,
and away I went, no old ladies in my way,
all sitting at their windows
sipping a glass of hot tea.

maybe dreaming of a sleigh ride
that took them to streets paved with gold,

the way I am today,
and never coming back
once I hit the first star.

@copyright/all rights reserved/ 2010

Thanks, once again, Willow, for lighting my fire!!  Poetry lives!!  Magpie, forever!!

Sunday, December 5, 2010

ORIGAMI...Poetry Potluck #13

I welcome the opportunity to write a poem for Poetry Potluck #13  at Jingle Poetry.  This week we are offered the subject of Dreams, Visions, and Reveries.  Somehow, for me, they all melt into one....


I am paper in the dream,
white and flat,
hoping for some fancy calligraphy
to be inscribed
as I hold my breath.

I'm ready for some
ornamental letters
to dance across my face
till I am sated,
by a saintly hand
or Shakespeare.

Instead, origami folds me
into a bird.

A bright spark
points me
towards a hole in the sky,
whispers the message:

Wrap your wings
around your soul.


                  Dedicated to the memory of Sri Daya Mata/ Self-Realization Fellowship.

                                          January 31, 1914- November 30, 2010


@copyright/all rights reserved/2010

Friday, December 3, 2010

A Bit Of Chocolate....

This is a test...I'm here to place temptation in front of you.  You don't have to follow through.  You can just read the recipe and move on...or.  It's up to you.  Give up something else, you won't be sorry.   Easiest pie don't even have to make a crust.  What??  And you still hesitate?   Enjoy!


3/4  cup butter/or margarine
3 (1 oz.) unsweetened chocolate squares
3 eggs
1 1/2  cups sugar
3/4  cup all-purpose flour
1 tsp. vanilla extract
3/4 cup chopped pecans, toasted and divided
Toppings:  vanilla ice cream, chocolate fudge sauce, pecans

Cook butter and chocolate in a small saucepan over low heat, stirring often until melted.

Beat eggs at medium speed with mixer for 5 minutes.  Gradually add sugar, beating until blended.  Gradually add chocolate mixture, flour, and vanilla, beat until blended.  Stir in 1/2 cup pecans.

Pour mixture into a lightly greased 9 inch pieplate.

Bake at 350 deg. for 35 to 40 minutes or until center is firm.  If you wish, top each serving with vanilla ice cream, chocolate fudge sauce, sprinkle with remaining chopped pecans.

Wednesday, December 1, 2010

MAGPIE/ Prompt #43

                                           photo/ willow/ Magpie Tales


Where are her footsteps?
She just glides over and shrieks
whenever it snows.

@copyright/all rights reserved/ 2010

Thanks, Magpie Tales!!

Tuesday, November 30, 2010


A young lady has been raising bees in Red Hook, Brooklyn.  Keep that word, Red, in mind. 

Since May, her bees have been returning to their hives looking quite different, with odd stripes of color where a mellow touch of amber usually showed through the membrane of their stomachs.  What always was a honey color, suddenly became a brazen red.  The honeycombs were also strangely red. 

It was thought at first that the bees were hanging around some sumac, or an odd tree or two.  But then a friend suggested (being funny) that maybe the bees were lounging around Dell's Maraschino Cherries Company over on Dikeman Street, in Red Hook, Brooklyn.

It seemed impossible to believe that the bees would travel a good distance, bypassing mother nature, to fill up on junk food.  Hmm, sounds a bit familiar.  We humans seem to favor overlooking the natural for artificial anything!
But bees, too?  What's the buzz here?

An apiculturist found, through samples taken from the bees, that Red Dye # 40, was the same dye used in the maraschino cherries.  And some folks came forth with the news that lots and lots of bees were hanging around Dell's.

It seems that bees will dip into any sweet liquid in their flight path.  It's thought that the bees were slurping up the runoff at the factory.  The question became if the bees would abandon the bright red, abundant sweetness, for some natural nectar.  Perhaps putting a screen around the cherry factory might help to prevent the foragers from hanging around, which is proving to be a huge nuisance! 

It remains to be seen if the best real nectar can be a match for this hot tamale red, excessively sweet, artificially enhanced treat.  Because the yield from this last summer did indeed produce a honey, bright red, that was sort of metallic, and too sweet.  The upside is, that in the evening, the bees glowed a lovely crimson.

Original source: New York Times, 11/30/10

Sunday, November 28, 2010

GREEN THUMB/ Poetry Potluck 12

Another week, another Poetry Potluck....this time it's Nature!!  Plants, Creatures..the Cosmos..what a choice...join in!!


It's clear to me
that I've got a green thumb.
Daybreak comes,
I'm eyeing a dry patch,

watching a drop of morning dew
swell and slip
into the seam
of a leaf
flat as paper,

not even enough
for a hummingbird to sip.

But there it is,
magnifying the distant sun
to focus a ray
that urges
some emergent bud
to make haste.

It might not have anything
to do with me at all,
but I think
that my seeing it

spreads the word
to the universe
that good work
is being done here!

@copyright/all rights reserved/2010

Wednesday, November 24, 2010

MAGPIE/ Prompt #42

William Bouguereau  1825- 1905


This year, I don't have to dig into any cliche' to come up with a reason to give thanks.  For the last 3 1/2 years I have been on the outside looking in... mostly at festivities..all those folks..they sure seem to be having a good time!  Turkey, trimmings...Christmas bells, trees...Easter flowers, Resurrection...I've watched, tearing at the heart on my sleeve...return to me, please, less craziness, please!

I do believe in miracles, but not necessarily for me.  I had given up hope.  But I think just a tiny bit of it clung, hidden, like lint.  In of all places, my heart.  So that when the prayer is answered, joy is found immediately, and you know how to use it.

The other day, I was reunited with my 12 year old granddaughter, after 3 1/2 years of being lost to each other.  I believed that the moment would never arrive for us to be together again.  So that out of the cliche' of a clear blue sky, I received that phone call where I pinched myself, and learned to walk on air.

Here is the cup that runneth over..It's filled with justice and fairness, for all our lives.  In return, may we give kindness and love.  Even if you haven't had a miracle lately, it's good to know that someone out there has!

                                              photo/ willow/ magpie tales

Happy Thanksgiving.....a very big thank you.

Thanks, Willow, this Magpie prompt led me in an interesting direction..

Sunday, November 21, 2010


The theme for Poetry Potluck this week is Magic & Miracles, Wonder and Wizardry!  Sounds very tempting!!


We all live in the trick 
of our bodies,
draped in skin
that will fold like a fan.

A radiance resides
within my heart,
it keeps at it
till I head off,

and then it's free
to make the hurdle

into the light
and wait for its next adventure.

My soul is the wizard of my life,
enlightening the way
of all my fancies,
imagined or painted,
or prayed for
or written.

I am my present
and my past,
carrying my numbered lives,
a bundle of used up magic.

And then I see my soul again,
leaving the stage
when I depart.

@copyright/all rights reserved/2010

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

MAGPIE/ Prompt #41

                                                        photo/willow/Magpie Tales


They direct us, every year,
to turn it back,
the clock,
to close down the year mechanically.

I want to grasp
on to one more hour,
make it stay,
stand there, don't move,

something I've tried to do
when I'm overly-
or a little crazy.

Find a lifeline to what's gone,
but have to settle instead
to winding the stem in reverse
so that the sun is confused
about when to shine,

but time bounces on
with uncertainty
to engulf us with darkness.

If I dream of what an hour
looks like,
I see a gazelle
leaping through the air.

I will tether it to my bed,
not let it go till springtime,
when I peer into the heart
of its intent,
and watch the flight
of an hour leaping ahead.

@copyright/all rights reserved/2010

Faithfully, I await the Magpie Prompts, am never disappointed to follow Willow's muse..once again..Thanks!!  And one and all...please read the other entries...

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

Just Dessert....

I'm sure you all have your favorite Pumpkin Pie recipe.  Me too.  This isn't it. 

This is a wonderfull recipe for a Pumpkin Crisp.  With pears.  And caramelized.  Very simple.  I guarantee that you and your holiday guests will be in favor of the substitution.  And you really don't have to eat it first...unless....

Pumpkin Crisp

2 large ripe pears, pealed, cored, and cut into 1/2  inch cubes
14 tbls. unsalted butter, cold
1/2 cup maple syrup
1 tsp. vanilla extract
2 tsps. ground ginger
1/2 tsp. cinnamon
2  15 oz. cans pumpkin puree
1 1/4 cups all purpose flour
1/2 cup packed light brown sugar
1/2 cup chopped walnuts

In a nonstick skillet over med. heat, combine pears, 4 tbls. butter, maple syrup, vanilla, and spices and cook until pears are tender..10 minutes.  Add pumpkin and cook for 1 to 2 minutes.  Remove from heat.

Place the flour, brown sugar, and remaining butter in a bowl.  With your fingers, work the butter into the dry ingredients until large crumbs form.  Add the walnuts and combine well.

Heat oven to 375 deg. F.

In a 9 x 13 inch baking dish, spread the pumpkin-pear mixture evenly on the bottom.  Sprinkle the topping over it and bake until golden brown and bubbling about 40, 50 minutes.  Serve warm, or at room temperature, with whipped cream.  Serves about 8.

Thanks to

Sunday, November 14, 2010


THIS week's Poetry Potluck ...Based on Moods, Feelings, Emotions..plenty there to go around...count me in!  How about you?  So much talent...Please check the site to join in!


Dust falls from
The Book of Demons.
Dead flies shift in the silt.
I remove the tome from a shelf,
delve into lists
of devils I have known,
from A to Z.

When darkness rises,
who will come with me?
Lesser angels
or minor demons,
each owning
half of the other?

Walk with me....

@copyright/ all rights reserved/ 2010

Thursday, November 11, 2010

MAGPIE/ Prompt #40

                                      photo/ willow/ magpie tales


I dreamed of Anjana,
cooing to the Monkey God,
cradling little Hanuman,
who was hungry for the world.

She fed him a mango,
with the face of a demon.
Anxious he was
to devour all sin.

He flew out
from the Ram
to hand me some pearls,
a dancing monkey avatar
to conquer all my fears.

I tore the thread
that held the pearls,
that looked to be
his teeth.

They spilled
and rolled like storm clouds
over my trembling knees.

It seemed a jinx
to let them sink
into a crevice,
and find a passage
meant for imps,

when all I want is eternity
to place in a golden ring.

@copyright/all rights reserved/ 2010

Willow, Willow, you've done it again..a not so easy Magpie Prompt..but thanks once more!!

Wednesday, November 10, 2010


WHERE DID THE WEEK GO?  I meant to post this much sooner, but time will not diminish the impact of the events! 

If you have been in touch with the excellent blog of ARTIT , you probably are familiar with her exceptional art work, and read about Jeane's visit to New York.  I had the great good fortune to have met her last year, and it was a natural for us to catch up this year.  So last Wednesday we met at the Met!  An easy choice for me, having played in the nooks and crannies of the Egyptian hall since I was about 10 years old.  So off we went, through many dynasties, and the great installation of the Temple Of Dendur. 

Then a very long pause for lunch and more talk than one would think possible.  What a companion.  Please invite Jeane to accompany you anywhere.  You won't regret it.  And when in NY, bear in mind that I can point out the zillion dollar acquisitions that hang at the Met.  Rembrandts Galore!

A walk in Central Park on this sunny, stellar day, allowed me to point out the site of a notorious murder.  (Sorry, I do that sort of thing).  You don't get this info from the Park Rangers.  We had to sit down on a bench, one I intended to claim on NYMarathon day, far removed, to regain our composure.  Yes, I'm a barrel of laughs and arcane information.  Been here too long.  But I can do the A List tour.

And so the moment of air-kissing arrived, and Jeane took her leave to pursue other encounters.  We all are working on getting her to come back soon.  Very soon.

Ciao, Jeane!!

Sunday, November 7, 2010



What Wright had in mind
for the Guggenheim was a
Spiral stuffed with art.

                 It's a building, it's a landmark, it's super monument!!  Come on in!  Potluck Poetry...  Share, it's a good thing!!

@copyright/all rights reserved/ 2010

Thursday, November 4, 2010

MAGPIE/ Prompt #39

                                          photo/ willow/ magpie tales


My cousin, Belle d'Amour, (I'm making up part of her name.  Based on my early tendency for sarcasm), is the family matchmaker.  The lines around her eyes etch her progression to seniority.  She hasn't tamed the years too gracefully.  The bluish skin beneath her sunken cheeks, her alleged Katherine Hepburn look, crinkles when she squints or smiles.  A legend in her own mind.

Shiny pools of olive oil sit in the folds of her chicken skin, a waste of a major ingredient that would be put to better use in a salad.  But the unguent, meant to smooth her profile, can't fool a callow youth such as I.

Her brows flow into pompous arcs when she looks at me.  Appraisal, heaped with disdain, is my due, since the time when I was a babe running barefoot.  Who would ever want me?  My peccadillo?  I am known as the skinny merink in my family.  Therefore the one who doesn't stand a chance for wedded bliss.  Hopeless case.  Not as much as a soupcon of zoftig delight for hands groping for enchantment.

But it's the action of her chin turning into wattles, subject to the motion of every stomp and swish, that hypnotizes me, till her jowls come to rest on her collar, imprudently modeled after an Elizabethan bib.

Once again this Faberge' pullet has been summoned to find a husband for me.  For some arcane reason, Belle d'Amour remains the touchstone for connubial resolution.  We honor tradition.

One has only to look as far as my cousin Fern, inelegantly named after a potted plant, now morphing into an effusive weed, to see that there is indeed a mate for one and all...except if your taste doesn't run to gargoyles.

But I'm the lost cause, stuck in my family's fever dream of Romanov grandeur, waiting for my blind date to take me or leave me.  Now I'm in suspense, waiting impatiently for some photos of my prospect to be delivered.  Someday my prints will come...

Thanks again to Willow for the opportunity to try out this and games as always..and please check all the rest!!

Saturday, October 30, 2010

All Souls...


Like all souls
we search for the essence.

We shop for blood.

Each morning
my eyelids are brushed clean
of purple crust.
Quivering fingertips cool my brow,
pleading for gossip of the night.

I have eaten, yes,
but not to the full.
There is scarcity on the land.

My skin, slightly torn, is stitched.
Black lashes filter out the dawn.

The sun rises.
Fallen angels flutter,
begging for
the riddle of our blood.

It's simple,
I die of fear
and thirst,
as others hide and stare.
All yearning ebbs and flows.

I sleep.

And then it's tomorrow.
That's the secret.

                   FOR HALLOWEEN, trick or treat??  Last week, me dipped in chocolate.  This week, me as a VAMP...vampire....boooooo!!

This is my entry for this week's Poetry Potluck #8 .  The theme is Halloween. Perfect!  Please check in for some great poetry.

@copyright/all rights reserved/ 2010

Thursday, October 28, 2010

MAGPIE/ Prompt #38

                                            photo/ willow/ magpie tales


It's a skill, my father said,
as he engraved,
with fastidious dignity,
the formal letters
on the headstone.

We have done so in our family
since Pope Clement
avoided the plague.

I accepted that I had a talent
with granite,
a serenity
when I grasped the rondel
to carve an angel
on the stone,

then chisel an inventory
of Gothic letters
to mark the day.

Flesh and bones
already boxed and banded,
set below,
sealed in midnight forever.

Time begins a silent race
and who's to know
if stone or bones
will be the first
to crumble into dust.

@copyright/all rights reserved/2010

Another of the weekly challenges from Magpie Prompts..and indeed it was!!  This has brought out the best..please check all the participants!


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