Friday, July 13, 2018

A Ride to Reid

Such a special treat of a poem arrived last week from Becky Herzog.  It was a handmade postcard with  a shape poem - a beautifully flowing outline of a motorcycle, with an equally beautiful flowing poem.  It's perfect.  She's captured it all...the smells, the sounds, the feelings.  Thanks!!!

Some pictures to set the mood...

Reid - Todd's Point

Beach roses ready to bloom

A seagull swoop

A great swing at Griffith Head, Reid

 And the bike:
Ready for a Ride to Reid!
And now the postcard/poem (even the colors are right!):

A Ride to Reid

Smell of seaweed and roses on the air
Salty sea breeze rushing past sun-kissed cheeks
Distant waves crash and gulls cry
Pause to recharge the soul

by Rebecca Herzog ©2018

I told you it was perfect.
This project, organized by Tabatha Yeatts, is so much fun!  I'm late sending my next poem out, but TODAY it goes...and my third, too!
Now visit more poetry goodness with Sylvia at Poetry for Children!  It's Poetry Friday!  Hip-hip - hooray!

A late response poem:

I Can Dream

When I ride
the glide of wind
across my face,
like waves awash across 
the space of sand,
turns sun to
warmth undone.
Breeze sneaks
between glove and
tickling, trickling
up past wrists.
I lean into the curve,
as a gull dipping its
wing carves
a path;
Though I must 
stay grounded
to the earth,
  I can dream, 
can't I?

 by Donna JT Smith, ©2018

Friday, July 6, 2018

In the Middle

Today is officially Poetry Friday, hosted by Patricia Stohr-Hunt at The Miss Rumphius Effect . First Spiritual Thursday, hosted by Doraine Bennett at Dori Reads, was yesterday.  I am late for both.  Our topic here in the middle of the year is "looking back/looking forward".

Oh, my word...
I wrote so much garbage for this day.  I wrote, read, edited, wrote more, cut lots, read know the process.  And then I decided to cut most ALL of it and stick with the poem that was in the MIDDLE and add an acrostic poem.

It's all about the middle anyway. Behave as if you were in the middle, no matter where your life bubble is.  I don't spend much time looking back and assessing my progress.   Maybe I should.  But I mostly start from where I am each day and keep moving.  I think I used to set more goals for the forward motion than I do now.  At this point in my life I've tapped about every stone I could get my toe on.  I like where I've been, and have no real regrets, so it makes life easier to deal with each day.

My goal
In life before my
Demise: to garner
Delight in the
Light of your

by Donna JT Smith

My journey lately has been mostly clawing uphill, but there have been ledges of rest along the way, and I am grateful for them, and for the fact that I don't journey alone - though I will be glad when the journey goes more smoothly and levels off again.  But how can there be a mountain top if there are no valleys?  I've been in valleys before.  Just start climbing slow, steady and straight.  Plow to the post: you'll get there quicker.

An Acrostic: 

Beginning, Middle, Ending

Before has not been
Eventually is later
Good times are
In store in
New days
Not yet happened
In time
Nor space
Get ready to race -

Messy life
In a muddle
Desserts combined with
Life's lessons -
Events dealt and disbursed.

Eventually comes,
Nevermore happens;
Despite our dreams and
Inward wishes;
No looking back for
"Got away" fishes.

by Donna JT Smith

I had a cold this week while my grandchildren were visiting.  Twice my 6 year old grandson said to me "I hope you don't die before my birthday, because you are sick and you are old."
I hope I don't either.  I only have to make it to the middle of August... lol!  NyQuil and Mucinex are working miracles.  I think I'll be at the party.  But I guess you never know.  I AM old...with a cold.

Joyful Journey

Here my path lies,
Here the journey,
But the way
Is not the end;
There are others
Following footprints
Be they family
Or friend.
As I reach
that firm foundation
Weathered storms
lie just behind,
New storms quietly
But I look for

by Donna JT Smith 

This still feels a lot disjointed to me.  Sorry.  I have a cold.

Friday, June 29, 2018

Edna St. Vincent Millay

No poem from me here today (I know. Strange, huh?), but if you must read one and you haven't yet, Monday's post, has my poem, Pulse, and a photo - I don't think it was too widely read.  Please bear with me if I haven't been to your site in a bit to comment.  Life is like a rushing wind around me.  When the wind settles to a breeze, I will have more time and energy.  But this week, I promise to reply to all who comment here or on Monday's post...even if I don't get dishes done!

This week we took a trip up to Camden, and drove up to the top of the "mountain".  Mountain is in quotes because we don't have mountains like other people have mountains.  Ours are considerably smaller for the most part.  But when you mostly see sea and forest for rest...well, we make mountains out of molehills.  But still, those molehills are pretty high up and beautiful.

Mt. Battie at Camden State Park has a stunning view of Camden's harbor.  If you are ever up in Maine it is worth a stop to either hike or drive to the top.

At the summit there is a tower, and a plaque honoring Edna St. Vincent Millay (more info here), who was born in Rockland, Maine and often came to nearby Camden. 

All I could see from where I stood
Was three long mountains and a wood;
I turned and looked another way,
And saw three islands in a bay.
So with my eyes I traced the line
Of the horizon, thin and fine,
Straight around till I was come
Back to where I'd started from;
And all I saw from where I stood
Was three long mountains and a wood.

by Edna St.Vincent Millay
The poem in its entirety may be read here.

For more poetry today, go to Carol at Carol's Corner and check out the links!

Monday, June 25, 2018

A Late Thought

I was thinking as I was lying in bed.  Now I can't even remember if it was before I fell asleep, or upon waking up too early.  But I guess it doesn't matter.  I got up and wrote down a couple of lines.  I did not do what I usually do, which is think to myself that I will certainly remember THAT thought.   When I finally got up for the day, I remembered I had written something, but had no idea what it was.  So, good.  I would not have remembered my thought in the morning without writing it down.  And I had been smart to just get up and jot it down.  The next step in outsmarting myself will be to have a pad of paper, pencil and flashlight...or an iPad that is still turned on and set beside me.  I am beginning to know myself and my limitations - you would have thought that would have happened years ago.  I still have to remember that I am like that though, for I will argue with myself about how I will surely remember THIS latest and greatest thing.  Then I don't write that something down, but reassure myself that I have that nugget tucked away safely for remembering.  And I never do remember it.

But I wrote this one down - sometime when it was still dark this week.  I left these lines on a document page on my computer:

Waves of the ocean,
Strong pulses of life
Breathe over the sand

And I'm going to think about it now and write more... because I remembered to write it down, and it must mean something to me.

Okay, finished.


Waves of the ocean,
Strong pulses of life
Breathe over the sand
Renewing, embuing
These small grains of land;
And I hum to myself
With a small roar inside,
A thrum that refuses,
To quell the great tide;
The salt of my tears
And dried whispers on breeze
Soon bring me to
Fall on my trembling knees.
Oh, there’s strength in
The falling,
There’s power in tears,
There’s hope in the
Squalling of gulls
Without fears,
And cormorants plummeting,
Seals sliding to depths
 All to be fed
Of oceans great wealths;
And I sit here still,
Shiftless, sifting with hand
Where the pulse of my life
Is renewed in its sand.
by Donna JT Smith, © June 25, 2018

Friday, June 22, 2018


It is Poetry Friday, and though I am a little late posting, I'm very happy to be here!  There's nothing like a bit of poetry to liven up the day.  So after spending a little time here, pop on over to check out more links to poetry at Michelle Kogan's!  (Oh, my word... I forgot to link and here it is just after 4:30 pm... I got distracted in the middle of it!)

Here is a rosa rugosa (beach rose) from in front of our home (near the beach).  I am in love with this rose.  It is the best smelling rose around.  Every time we enter or exit the house - almost all summer - we are greeted by their sweetness.

I have taken many pictures of them, and painted them a few times.  I'm hoping to get better at it!  They are so delicate and fairly glow in the sun!  It is hard for me to capture their essence.  I ALWAYS overdo them!
See... it's not even close.

I'm going to do it right one of these days!

Today, I am sharing a photo I took, and a true thought story poem.  Did you ever have this "wonder", I wonder?


I remember
about colors,
I could
spy a new color.
came into fashion,
and new crayon
names appeared…
I thought,
I’ve never seen
these colors!”
But now I know
they have always
been there;
just waiting for me
to look more

by Donna JT Smith ©2018

Friday, June 8, 2018


Kiesha Shepard at Whispers from the Ridge has our Poetry Friday links today.
Have a beautiful summer day sometime this week!  Looks like rain instead of sun here today! (Whoops!  Sun just peeked through the leaves in the back yard!  Maybe it's a bike day after all!)


"I’m broke,” she said,
And laid in bed.
"I’m sick,” she lied,
And then she cried.

“I can’t do that!
I won’t do this!
Just go away,
And bring back bliss!”

Then as she tumbled
To the floor
And crawled along
To find the door,

She noticed she
Was on her knees,
And knew that someone
Heard her pleas,

Where all along
She should have been
To see her world
Brought right again.

Her smallness, frailties
Her being so

Reminded her that
There’s a force,
A power of
Unending source.

And tapping that
She rose to see
That all was as
It’s meant to be.

No more broken,
No more sick,
No more lies
There is no trick.

“You’re right, you cannot
Do it all
But neither do you
Need to fall.
For there’s a light
And there’s a hand
To help you fight
To help you stand.”

“I’m broke,” she whispered,
“Help me mend.”
“I’m sick,” she murmured,
“But I’ll attend.”

She grasped the light
And saw much more;
She held the hand
To cross the floor,

And all her worries,
All she feared
Dissolved at once
And disappeared.

Once again
The sky was bright
And even stars
Came out at night.

by Donna JT Smith, June 8, 2018

Two more of my poems at GetSparked "Up on the Roof" and "Full Cold Moon".

Thanks, Tabatha!  After reading your comment, I went surfing and found this one, too...enjoy!

Thursday, June 7, 2018

First Spiritual Thursday

This is the first Thursday in June, so the Spiritual Journey Thursday gang meets to think about a variety of topics and how it affects their spiritual life.  This month's topic is Summer.  I tried thinking about this a few times over the past week and a half and nothing really came together in my brain well.  I didn't seem to get a lot of minutes all in one sitting to really meditate upon the theme.  Then I looked up Bible verses with summer in them.  And that is when I began to be able to focus better.

Summer is a promise from God.
Genesis 8:22  While the earth remaineth, seedtime and harvest, and cold and heat, and summer and winter, and day and night shall not cease.

This constancy is promised.  We can count on the cycles of seasons and day and night and that summer will return in an orderly fashion.  We don’t get tricked into spring turning to winter, and then autumn leading into summer.  There are not days without a night between (though at the poles they might be a bit shorter or longer than on other places on Earth…).  God gave us the promise of summer as part of a cycle for as long as the earth keeps spinning and rotating around the sun.

Of the four seasons, summer seems to me to be the one that most resembles Heaven....perpetual summer...though without the humidity, of course.  As beautiful looking as winter can be, it is not “heavenly” or “heaven-sent” to me.  It’s a dormant, cold time, when most things at least appear to be dead... unless you like skiing or other winter sports...
Spring is new birth, and autumn is the harvest before the cold, dormant dead of winter sets in.  Summer is the realized potential of all living things -  which seems heaven-like.  Everything is awake, grown or growing, green or greening, and flourishing.

Summer is our promise,
and our warning to harvest and prepare for the promised winter.


When the butterflies
fly home,
And moths
no longer roam,
Snowflakes spritely 
take their place
upon my face.
Memories of warm
sun spun
as lace
I hold dear today.
For soon I fear
the silvered sands
of beach
between my toes
will slip away
And ocean’s white-capped
will be replaced 
with towering drifts -
the rift between
Summer’s reason
Winter’s treason.
As waves sift footprints
from the sand,
So may the sun
release iced land.
And someday I will
come to know
The endlessness of
 summer's glow.

by Donna JT Smith, 2018

Check out the links at Margaret Simon's Reflections on the Teche for more Summer postings. 

Friday, June 1, 2018

It is Friday...It is June...It is a Blessing

A bit of respite in May

Over the past month... and a bit more... we have had one crisis after another to fill our plates.  They have not sunk us.  They have not taken our joy.  But they have taken great amounts of time, energy,  and prayer.  And I have joked that I need a big platter instead of a plate to hold my portion.  But then I set my plate down, opting not to hold onto it.

I think May deserves a poem to celebrate its ending, its tenacity and its victories.

May Be June

We were clearly tempest tossed
well before May had begun

But as patterns crissed and crossed 
there were signs of more to come.

We smiled despite the cost
as we set our course to run.

Till races nearly lost,
instead turned races won.

Now June arrives all glossed
and we're ready for the sun.

Can May's near-holocaust
be traded for some fun?

by Donna JT Smith - June 1, 2018

Reason to Celebrate

May was great -
Great with trials
and tribulations.

Cannot wait -
Wait for hints
of revelations.

Why that day?
Day requires 
deep inhalations.

In the end,
End rewards
all faithful patience.

by Donna JT Smith, 2018

Not a masterpiece...
but a poem that sums up May for me.

No, two poems for May.  It deserved at least two.

I am not going into the details of all the piles of garbage - but suffice it to say our daughter walked away with only minor injuries after her car struck a tree head-on, totaling it.  And that was a total blessing, setting the perspective straight on all of the rest.

I have not written a posted since May 5th.  I have written a little since then... poems, but for other's been hard to focus on writing, though it certainly was a full month for thoughts, just no time to write them.
GetSparked 37 is underway, and I submitted two inspiration pieces - one poem and one art piece to my exchange partner.  Since May 23 I have worked on 2 pieces: one a watercolor and one a poem as responses to my partner's inspiration pieces I received.
I actually completed two poems for her image.  The first one I completed, then decided to keep it instead of publishing it online.  So I had to create another one.  My second one was a bit fanciful and literal, and I decided to go with that one.  Today is the day for completing the response pieces - which I have done - and we now have the week to submit our work to the website.  I'll let you know when mine gets up there later today - probably tonight.

And now I'm working on Tabatha Yeatt's summer poetry exchanges.  I have 5 poems to write in the next couple of months, so I am beginning the thinking and drafting of my first now.

Poetry Friday is being hosted by Buffy at Buffy's Blog.  Enjoy the twirling seeds of the beginning of summer!

Saturday, May 5, 2018

Rat's Nest Infestation

Rat's Nest Infestation

nothing today
much more than 
to say
not sad
nor depressed
just empty
with each daily issue
no need of a tissue
  i'm okay
some sun
with a twist
of a key could assist
might unwind 
in my mind
this rat's nesting
replace infestation
with pure relaxation
that would be cool
with no one to fool
 and nothing
to say
 i'm really

by Donna JT Smith, ©2018

Sorry to have missed Poetry Friday yesterday, though I did write this.  Good title, huh?

It was a mind busy day.  There have been lots of them lately.  I'm still joyful, and okay.  Just pensively pent up.  So many things I cannot fix for others.  It tears my heart.  I need to let go.  Breathe.

Now, today, I'm out for a bit on my own in SB wanting, waiting, writing for a story to happen.

Wednesday, May 2, 2018

First Spiritual Thursday - Celebrate

What manner of celebration is this?
Today's post is hosted by Violet Nesdoly who is encouraging us to share how we observe or celebrate a special day: Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter, a birthday, anniversary...

I'm having trouble with this today.  Is it because often, the actual date for the even and our celebration do not occur on the same day?  I began to think about my conversation with my daughter about how it is not important that you see the person on that special day, as much as you celebrate with them when you ARE with them.

With families spread over miles and years, it has been difficult to keep things rounded up neatly to do what is expected in the expected time frame.  But as Christmas is not really December 25, and Easter doesn't have a set date... why do we care?  The important thing is that we DO care, just not that it has to be some particular day.

I celebrate every day the fact that I gave birth to two wonderful children.  I celebrate the fact that my husband was born, and that I was, too!  The dates are not the important thing to me, so we sometimes wait until it is convenient to make the more "public" celebration when it fits.

There are so many ways that I find joy and celebrate, that I actually find regular days to be more celebratory than an actual special day.  I'm feeling at a loss with this topic today.  Maybe it is the personal intricacies and complications lately, that make me feel empty headed right this moment.  Let me try a poem instead and see what comes of it.


I treasure ordinary moments
much more than special days
I want to make the most of all
avoiding hype and craze;
 I breathe in deeply when I see
the ocean or a tree
I look around and see the birds
and marvel how they're free
no cares, no need
to send a card
no deeds
beyond the yard
There's nothing in 
the nest to wrap
Nothing to state
 they're late for hap
A calendar does not exist
with anniversary, birthday list...
I smile to watch
the sun go down
and stretch on rise again
I stare at stars and peek at moon
while picking up my pen
to write a note, a word
or two and buy some Christmas gifts -
but "Look!" there snow that's piling up
where drafts blow making drifts
Then I want to stay inside
and watch it for a while
Or maybe go outside a bit
and build a snowman's smile 
Can anything be better than the
family gathered round?
Who needs to have a reason
for love and joy's surround?
Give me the dew, the frost, the rain
Give me a grandchild's laughter
And I will be happy celebrating
Well into the hereafter. 

by Donna JT Smith, 5/3/2018

Okay that's what came out. Maybe I'll read it!  Then perhaps I'll edit it someday, or maybe add to it.  But I THINK that addresses how I'm feeling right now, if it doesn't address the actual topic.  I apologize.  God's goodness is so finely wrapped around my life and my surroundings that I have trouble sometimes isolating the spots.  And we just don't put much emphasis on celebrations.  We are not organizers of fun.  Fun just is.  Goodness, that just made me smile!  Fun just is.  Celebrations are all around all the time.  Well, if this didn't speak to the topic or to you, it is A-Ohhh-Kay! because it was another little celebration for me all on its own! LOL!
You have a great day!  I'm gonna have me another great day!

Yesterday we celebrated 80+ degrees in Maine by taking the motorcycle for it's first to the beach!  Hopefully, tomorrow my husband will be on his bike, too.