Love casts out fear, it has been said
but I have never been as scared
as when I loved and gave my heart
to love's power and to its art.
To what folly have I been ensnared?

Alone, I fly free, as a bird
leading its wings to paths it dared
fly, with no one to lose or hurt.
Love casts out fear -

in soothing tones, it calls, I learned
and followed where my soul love steered - 
a full life seen from all its parts
as its Maker had planned.  His art,
Love, casts out fear.


Written for PAD Challenge - Day 3 - "_____________ of Love"

An attempt at writing a Rondeau.



I was told
– everyone has a perfect match
like a pot
with a missing lid
I just had to wait
for my match to be found
years and years I waited
still he did not come

I was told
– be the best you can be
perfect for the one you’re looking for
I did and still
he did not come

I was told
– be patient
– don’t settle
-perhaps you’re too picky

I stopped listening
I learned to be happy
as I am

Then –
when I was not looking
or hoping
he came along –
a single e-mail
turned to long conversations
to mutual discovery
to love and love
to our commitment of a lifetime.




Do we even see the same person?
You see someone beautiful
I see one beyond her prime
(who kind of looks like a crone).
You get mad
that I disagree
How can you belie those many eyes
who have judged her face
her person
to be less than perfect?
She carried the sting of many years
wore the thorns like a cloak
she was what other saw
But you dare strip her
of the mold she was cast in
that I may see her
the way your love does
And I have never been as beautiful.


Daily Post:  Eyes



I met him with a luggageful of warnings. “He could be a psycho!” was my friends’ almost unanimous fear when I told them that I would meet the man I met online who happened to be from the other side of the world. After a year of extensive e-mails and expensive phonecalls, we agreed to finally meet in person. I would fly for 21 hours while he would drive 12 hours  to get to our meeting place. To appease my friends (and the little scared voice within), I did check the information he gave me against those independently available online, memorized the emergency number (9-1-1!), and arranged to meet in my brother’s apartment in Delaware.

The hour of our meeting approached. It was on a snowy December night. I parked myself on the couch by the window overlooking the road. I jumped at the sight of passing headlights. A lot later than expected, a car parked in front of our door. The door was opened before the doorbell rang. Outside stood a handsome, clean-shaven youth, cold inside his grayish woolen sweater. “Where is your stuff?” I managed to squeak after I regained my breath.

We spent two weeks together during which time, I learned that he was definitely not a murderer but, to my tastebuds’ consternation, I also learned that he was quite adept at using leftover turkey (mostly as soggy turkey rice). Meanwhile, he learned that I could not cook to save myself and that I was shorter than he thought. He gave me a ring anyway.

Sheltered butterfly
warm inside binding cocoon
foreordained  to fly


 DVerse’s Haibun Monday:  A Little Romance.  Jump into the pub for some romantic takes.



This rose has been too long in the sun
Her edges are getting dry
Gone are her petals’ velvety shine
in its stead are the unsightly lines
that no doubt say she’s past her prime.
Her thorns get sharper as they wither
Her fragrance betrays the odor of decay
Will she remain the treasured flower
the one you kiss and pin on your lapel?
Will she be tossed in the compost heap
forgotten but by the buzzing flies
Or will you press her between  the pages
of your favorite book
her grandeur, a sweet souvenir to keep.



DVerse Poets wants us to write about our fears.  One of mine is hiding between the lines.