I love to search the shore, Select smooth stones that shimmer Under the liquid shine of the sea. Turquoise, coral, amber and onyx. Each one unique, Shaped by the wind and waves, Nestled next to seaweed In swaths of texture and color That rival a pointillist painting....

Oleander Ladies The hardy oleander bush Flourishes along highways Oblivious to the exhaust Of passing automobiles Vibrantly hued flowers Bend on graceful stalks Like the long-limbed ladies That stroll along Union Avenue They glance enticingly At passing customers Who...

The following two poems I have submitted to CSUB's spring publication featuring poems on the theme of California's flora and fauna. I chose the kit fox and the oleander. Kit Fox It flickers across the field Swiftly moving As if its feet don't even touch the ground...

He sits sipping thick mushroom soup Barrel-chested with stocky legs In shorts with socks and sandals His bald pate like a shiny egg With compact stature From leaping out of planes Carrying a parachute on his back Invading Granada Attacking in Iraq “There's nothing...

She stretches and wiggles Clinging to her mother's knee Gaping at the saucer-sized cookies In the refrigerator case Her eyes are a-gog Suddenly she spies my cookie And, quick as a flash, She prances over and takes a bite Smiling at me A total stranger But keeper of...

The afternoon sunlight highlights her brunette hair cascading over her brow and falling over one shoulder She absently pulls her fingers through the tangled strands as she frowns at the physics textbook before her The figures spin and intertwine like the knots in her...

She sits in the back corner of the cafe Like a well-worn fifth edition Of the Betty Crocker Cookbook Greasy paged, notes scribbled in the margins Open to the recipe for tater-tot casserole And how to stretch hamburger To feed a hungry family Only now the children are...

I wrote this poem after reconnecting with a friend over Easter vacation.  I have been struggling to write a poem about her for years...it finally flowed. Coffee Cafe Customers:  The Quilter My old friend sits at the table like a lump of dough. The discontent rises...