Kim Weiss Publishing Services
 





I think I found my new emblem…

July 31, 2011 at 2:24 pm
my new emblem?

my new emblem?

courtesy of the Montreal bureau of tourism via an ad in the NY Times

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Pause

July 27, 2011 at 7:09 am

IMG_0493

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What happens when you show your writing coach (Irene Sherlock) a poem

July 26, 2011 at 11:41 am
Okay, you decide. When I emailed Irene Sherlock, my writing coach, my poem, she couldn’t help herself. This is what came back. Of course, I love what she did.
You? (revert to last post for original)

Coming home

Folded in my arms
my orange cat endures
my squeezes, my
high-pitched love calls
thirty seconds longer
than he can stand.

He hasn’t seen me in days,
and his wet food
beside the refrigerator
now ant-infested.

Three days away from home
and the yellow-headed cockatiel
allows me extra smooches
on his silk gray belly

blurts his whistle-squawk,

flies to the bookshelf
when he’s had enough.

The wee parrot
with few green feathers
plays ventriloquist
from across the room,
from his tiny beak
travels

an elongated kiss
in the dark,

pokes his tiny head
from the camouflage
pup tent
dangling from
cage

ceiling

the cyan blue devil,

her beauty the only reason
she still lives here,
parrots her green brother
vying for my index finger
which she will bite
to punish me for
sharing my affection
with lesser creatures.


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Coming Home (blue,green,grey, and orange) – a poem

July 26, 2011 at 7:07 am

Folded in my arms

the orange cat endures

uncomfortable squeezes

ridiculously high-pitched

love calls

thirty seconds longer

when he hasn’t seen me

walk through the door

since the day before

his wet food

in the bowl

beside the refrigerator

became

ant-infested

Three days away from home

and the yellow-headed cockatiel

allows me extra smooches

on his silky gray belly

blurts a combination

whistle-squawk

and flies to the bookshelf

when he’s had enough

The wee parrot

with next to no green feathers

plays ventriloquist

from across the room

our secret sound

from his tiny beak

travels in the form of

an elongated kiss

in the dark

where he pokes his tiny head

out of the camouflage

pup tent

dangling from

cage ceiling

The cyan blue devil bird

whose beauty is the only reason

she still lives here

parrots her green brother

vying for my index finger

which she will bite

to punish me for

sharing my affection

with lesser creatures.

Wilted plants

scream in their silent plant way

that it’s time

I got back

Water please

The now green poinsietta

still asking

how it ended up

in ninety-five degree weather

on someone’s

windy terrace

in the tropics

Sugar ants

are having a free for all

in the kitchen

ignoring me

I move slowly this

Monday morning

readying myself

for routine

surrounded by

blue

green

gray

and orange

packages

of sweetness

making my re-entry

soft

manageable

possible

less sad.

p9150209Mochi

Photo 285

Cyan

IMG_0009

Rashi the Magnificent

P9010186

Tito

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It’s the WRITE thing to do…

July 24, 2011 at 3:17 pm

IMG_0504

Sadly, I must return to the grid, to the grind, to the grit of my real life. Thank you to Perky, Irene and the rest of the writing people who made my weekend at Wiawaka in Lake George spectacular.

IMG_0513

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