Tag Archives: love

Cheetah and Dahlia

(Poem 74 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/FJuDC4

The epic battle between
cheetah and dahlia
lasted more than two moons.
No one knew who fate would
favor, though all took sides.
Spider and owl both fought
valiantly on the side of dahlia.
Scorpion and crow stood with
cheetah, as they do to this day.
Allegiances were forged,
lifelong friendships shattered;
the forest was never the same.
Some say dahlia attacked first,
jealous that cheetah was not
faithful, others say cheetah
was the original aggressor,
retaliation for a lost cub.
Whoever initiated matters not,
for the havoc and destruction
was total, the bloodshed dire.
Had serpent and beetle not
teamed up, all would have
been lost in the bloody mire.
As cheetah lay dying from
serpent’s bite, dahlia fell,
devastated by beetle’s hunger.
And to this day, there is
animosity among the animals,
where once there was union.
Such are the ways of love
and war; there are no victors.  

@Home Studio – 74th poem of the year

Runner ups for the cheetah flower photos to accompany my poem:

Dragon Kitty

(Poem 72 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/mXIRYc

Some dragon kittens hatched
in a nest outside my window.
The mother displayed them proudly,
like she wanted to share with me
the satisfaction only one mother to
another can ever understand.
Her eyes glowed red with pride
when we locked gazes and
the silence was filled with our
shared love for our babies.

Runner ups for the dragon kitty photos to accompany my poem:

Good Morning

(Poem 69 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/gEjF5X

Good morning leaves decaying in layers in our little yard forest. You have carpeted the ground beautifully with your life donation. Each of your sacrifices is appreciated, honored, and revered by many paws padding over your graves. Good morning birds singing to the gallery of the gods. You cheer the space where silence was lonely and fill the trees with invisible color. Good morning cool breeze gently swaying the boughs. Waving, nodding, welcoming all of us to your open-air cathedral, we are in awe of your generosity. Good morning ghost white sky. I suppose you don’t feel cornflower blue right now, and that is okay. You are lovely just as you are and have every right to express yourself however you like. Good morning big red barn with peeling paint. Your strength and shelter have protected many generations. You have been a foundation upon which lives were built. Good morning wood pile. What a lovely stack you’ve made of yourself, artistically skewed like an artisanal centerpiece for the yard.

@Home Studio – 69th poem of the year

Wicked

(Poem 66 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/lpUHYo

Is it wicked to want love?
Some think so.
Perhaps they have never
known the power
that comes from hearts
that beat in
unison and lives that are
fated to be
intertwined like woven cords.

Is it wicked to demand respect?
Some say so.
Perhaps they have never
known the freedom
that comes from minds
open to truth
revealed by struggle and growth
after the fight
has been won and admiration earned.

Is it wicked to expect equality?
Some believe so.
Perhaps they have never
known the joy
that comes from souls
fired by flames
of cosmic boldness who know
the real story
is so much better than the lies.

@Home Studio after seeing Wicked on stage at Bass Concert Hall in Austin, Texas 3/16/24 (a Christmas give from my husband from this year) – 66th poem of the year

Wicked. Stephen Schwartz and Winnie Holzman, 2003, Bass Concert Hall, Austin, TX, 16 March, 2024.

Balloon Garden

(Poem 62 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com  https://gencraft.ai/p/DfUnKJ

There’s a pretty little garden
in a pretty little town
where a pretty little girl
puts balloon seeds in the ground.

She waits very patiently
sitting between the rows
and waters them one by one
waiting for them to grow.

When the bulbous little globes
begin to rise and swell
she sings to each and every one
in a voice clear as a bell.

Once they’ve reached maturity
the little girl waves her goodbyes
as she watches them float away
with tears in her eyes.

@Home Studio – 62nd poem of the year

Runner ups for the balloon garden photos to accompany my poem:

I Fell Today

(Poem 61 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/7pYBlB

I fell today while walking Kenji
the short distance to the dog run.
I did not trip, stumble, collapse,
slip, stub my toe, nor faint dead away.
It was as though the earth moved
from beneath my feet and there
was nothing left to do but lie down-
the slow motion forward momentum
reminiscent of a tree felled by rot.

My shocked dog panicked, then
sprung into action and proceeded to
administer CPR square in the middle
of my back while head-butting me,
attempting to bring me to. Trouble is,
I was not in need of any of these
ministrations; my breathing was
startled, but sure, and adrenaline
ensured no loss of consciousness.

I’ve dreaded this day for over a
year; “Whatever you do, don’t fall,”
the surgeon’s only instructions
like telling a bird not to fly, a fish
not to swim, a dog not to give CPR
to its helpless person in need.
So, fall, I did, but break, I did not.
A little scraped, a lot bruised, but
no longer dreading the first fall.

@Home Studio – 61st poem of the year

Old Tin Can

(Poem 60 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/VMtRBA

An old tin can has myriad uses.
It can hold almost anything
that might need holding.
Used bolts, nails, and hinges,
extra screws that might come
in handy someday or never.
Paper clips, tacks, coins, even
a drink once given a good rinse.
There’s no end to its sense of
purpose when put to task.
It can keep seed safe ‘till the
next planting time comes,
trap danger in the form of
stinging things that scurry,
send sound with nothing more
than cotton string pulled taut.
It can be stacked and rolled,
kicked down the road,
thrown, crushed, and buried,
endure flame, flood, and cold.
The thing of it is the absence
of any thing that makes it
so useful because it can be
filled, drained, cherished, forgotten.
Its essence is what many
spend their lives trying to
imitate, emptying of self
opening to the possibility
of receiving and being filled.
I ‘reckon it would be quite a
compliment to be compared
to an old tin can because you
could hold your head high
knowing someone recognized
your inherent worth.

@Home Studio – 60th poem of the year

Westside

(Poem 59 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

Amblin Entertainment, TSG Entertainment https://images.app.goo.gl/eA9j3QVXtgfPyrhx9

Seething anger
must be aimed
at an enemy,
or else.
If there is no
target, they risk
ricochet; with no
one else to hurt,
they have to feel
all the pain.

@Home Studio – 59th poem of the year (after watching the 2021 version of Westside Story with Debbie, Yulia, and Celinda)

Spielberg, Steven. Westside Story. Amblin Entertainment, TSG Entertainment, Dec. 10, 2021.

More Westside Story images:

Grief is Hard

(Poem 58 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

“This is hard,” you say,
and point to her portrait,
no more words required.
Tears begin to flow;
you don’t want to cry
and say so.

I tell you no one knows
what you are feeling.
None of us have had a
best friend for 70 years
and had to feel the pain
of losing her.

Then I escape to my
room to weep into
my husband’s arms,
crying even harder
because she can’t
hold you.

@Home Studio – 58th poem of the year

Dune – Chani

(Poem 57 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

“This is only the beginning.” – Chani Dune: Part One

My heart is a Coriolis storm,
for I fear losing this us we have.
I am no bene gesserit, so have
no Other memory, only Our
memory, those made in my
yali, where I welcomed you as
my own–deep in the cool, safe
darkness of our ancient Usul sietch.
Your Chakobsa halting, sounding
more like a child than the warrior
you have proven to be, but your
Galach utterances in your most
vulnerable moments made me
ache to know more of you.
I do not understand your prescience,
though I have not believed in tales
since I was a wali, barely able to
lift my weapon, still swayed by
Zensunni stories of Lisan al Gaib.
I love you, though you are no
Fremen, never can be; you are my
Mahdi. Can’t that be enough?
Hear my heart flutter like the
beat of thopter wings, while yours
is steady as a thumper calling
Shai-Hulud, eager for you to fly
to me and sink your maker hooks
deep into my skin, steer me across
the golden seas of Arrakis, your
love the spice that flows through
my veins, your touch the palm lock
to the center of my universe.
Be my Kwisatz Haderach, only mine.
I remember the first time we shared a
stilltent on the open erg and kept
each other warm late into the night.
We talked until the hour of assassins,
and I fell into a deep sleep in your arms.
I dreamed I was with child and had just
caught a desert hare to roast for dinner.
The child in my belly kicked hungrily
and I laughed at his impatience.
I looked down into a pool of clear
water and saw my own reflection.
Sparkling water rings ornamented my
hair, gifts from you at our betrothal.
When I awoke, you had left the tent
and a sense of foreboding filled my heart.
I found you staring at the sky toward
Krelln, a dune hawk soaring in its light.
You watched as it set its sights on a
muad’dib, fascinated by the movements
of the tiny mouse as it pretended
nonchalance toward the predator.
You seemed relieved when, at the last
possible second, it dived into a hidden
burrow, avoiding a deadly fate;
your sigh awakened something in me.
Stay by my side, my love, far from
the water of life, which is no life.
Grow old with me and weather
each hulasikali wala until the day
deathstills return our water to our
people, for this is the only true paradise.


@Home Studio – 57th poem of the year – after watching Dune: Part Two opening night at Galaxy Theater.


Herbert, Frank. Dune. Hodder Paperback, 2006.

Villeneuve, Denis. Dune: Part One. Warner Bros. Pictures, Oct. 22, 2021.

Villeneuve, Denis. Dune: Part Two. Warner Bros. Pictures, March 1, 2024.

Wikipedia contributors. “Glossary of Dune (franchise) terminology.” Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia, 28 Feb. 2024. Web. 3 Mar. 2024.

Bene Gesserit – Secretive and powerful matriarchal order whose members possess extraordinary physical and mental powers.

Chakobsa – Language of the Fremen of Arrakis, inspired by the Caucasian hunting language of the same name.

Coriolis storm – Sandstorms on Arrakis in which “winds across the open flatlands are amplified by the planet’s own revolutionary motion to reach speeds up to 700 kilometers per hour.”

Deathstill – Fremen device used to extract all moisture from a living or dead human or creature. This is traditionally done to reclaim precious water from the dead, who no longer require it; (Huanui-nau)

Dune hawk – a type of Desert hawk native to Arrakis. Also a type of Flyer or Ornithopter.

Erg – a broad, flat area of desert covered with wind-swept sand with little or no vegetative cover.

Fremen – “Native” inhabitants of Arrakis.

Galach – Universal language of the Dune universe.

Hour of Assassins – the first hour before dawn.

Hulasikali Wala – fremen name for the Coriolis storm.

KrellnFirst moon – the major satellite of Arrakis.

Kwisatz Haderach – “The Shortening of the Way” or “The one who can be two places simultaneously”. Bene Gesserit label applied to “the unknown for which they sought a genetic solution: a male Bene Gesserit whose organic mental powers would bridge space and time.”

Lisan al Gaib — (Arabic: لسان الغيب) The Fremen term for an off-world prophet or messiah. It is “The Voice from the Outer World” and is outlined in Fremen messianic legends heavily influenced by the Bene Gesserit’s Missionaria Protectiva. It is also translated as the “Giver of Water”.

Mahdi – “In the Fremen messianic legend, ‘The One Who Will Lead Us to Paradise;'” applied to Paul Atreides by the Fremen when they determine that he is their messiah. The term Mahdi is the same as that used in Islam for a messianic figure who will appear shortly before the Day of Judgment in Islamic eschatology.

Muad’Dib – “The adapted kangaroo mouse of Arrakis, a creature associated in the Fremen earth-spirit mythology with a design visible on the planet’s second moon. This creature is admired by Fremen for its ability to survive in the open desert.”[3] In Dune, Paul Atreides takes “Muad’Dib” as his Fremen name, which takes on greater significance when he is perceived as a messiah.

Ornithopter (or ‘Thopter) – “Aircraft capable of sustained wing-beat flight in the manner of birds;” one of the primary modes of transportation on the desert planet Arrakis.

Other Memory – The combined ego and memories of all female ancestors, which a Bene Gesserit may be trained to access.

Palm lock – “Lock or seal which can be opened only by contact with the palm of the human hand to which it has been keyed.”

Prescience – Form of precognition, based in genetics but made possible by use of the drug melange.

Shai-Hulud – Fremen name for the sandworms of Arrakis. Sandworm – Giant sand-dwelling creatures native to Arrakis. Called Shai-Hulud by the Fremen and worshipped as deities

Sietch – Cave warren inhabited by a Fremen tribal community; in the Fremen language, “Place of assembly in time of danger.” The name was borrowed from the sich of Zaporozhian Cossacks.

Spice – Common name for melange, a highly-addictive drug essential to space travel, extended life, and therefore to the survival of the universe.

Stilltent – “Small, scalable enclosure of micro-sandwich fabric designed to reclaim as potable water the ambient moisture discharged within it by the breath of its occupants.”

Thumper – “Short stake with a spring-driven clapper at one end”, placed in the sand to ‘call’ sandworms, who are attracted to vibration and sound.

Usul – Fremen word, meaning “The strength at the base of the pillar.” This is the secret “sietch name” (known only to his tribe) given to Paul Atreides upon his joining the Fremen.

Wali – The name the Fremen give to an untried youth.

Water rings – Metal rings wore by Fremen women to indicate their household’s possessed water.

Water of Life – Toxic liquid exhalation of a drowning sandworm, used by Fremen Reverend Mothers in the spice agony.

Yali – “A Fremen’s personal quarters within the sietch.”

Zensunni – Ancient religious sect, ancestors of the Fremen.