Yesterday’s dreams are hopeful,
catapulting on the springboard of today.
Tomorrow yields our reward.





Seconds tick.
The tympany of lost moments
left to linger in the anteroom of thought.
In the expanse of eternal existance,
we offer resistance to the passing of days,
hoping to delay their demise; returning with
each new rise of the sun. But, when we are done,
will we be remembered for all we strived to be?
Or will we be forgotten in the unmarked grave
of obscurity? Our procrastination is telling.
Time’s a wasting. There’s no tasting success
until we kick up our heels and initiate.
Tick, tick, tick,…

**For micro poetry’s prompt, “AND I QUOTE…” – “If we wait for the moment when everything, absolutely everything is ready, we shall never begin.” ~ Ivan Turgenev



Melodic memories, triggered by random turns
of phrase, a new page in your book of dreams.
It surely seems that a mind can be shaken or stirred
into a whirr of activity. You possess a proclivity for
drawing upon the past long enough gone
to notate upon the staff of your life;
it is a song composed with ethos and verve.
Steeling your nerve, thrown caution becomes windblown
and all are shown the power of your voice.
A flash-back to a day when music was an ally
to rely upon, a trigger for thoughts nurtured
in the womb of your fertile mind. Gestation,
born of elation for all your songs relate;
it is never too late to write your score.
The more you remember, more tender the melody.



When the beckoning telephone causes your heart to race,
and you awaken each morning to daunting and disturbing truths,
be reminded of the friends God has placed upon your path.
In the midst of these disconcerting times, this painful trend,
this season of anguishing heartache and languishing disquiet,
I will lift my face to the heavens — and I will choose joy.

I search the lake for still waters, yet see riotous wave
after riotous wave, thus hindering my view of the lighthouse.
Yet the Light of the World illuminates my path to joy.

Marie Elena


As earlier the moon begins to rise,
and sun sets in the peached and purpled sky,
so even birds and animals surmise
that fall is in the air — though slightly shy.

Don’t let her cool appearance disconcert,
for she can be as warm as amber‘s core.
Her sun, no longer brass, will toy and flirt,
as dazzling colors soon come to the fore.

As summer takes her leave, she bids farewell.
Yet I, for one, cannot feign grand despair.
She failed to cast on me her storied spell.
I’ll welcome autumn’s palette, and brisk air.

As summertime releases sultry hold,
I watch for autumn’s magic to unfold.
Marie Elena


Graceful and heartful, smart,
full of vigor to fight the rigors of life
as defined. You don’t mind
because at your side, having your back,
is a friend. In need, indeed;
when not needed, wanted just the same.
The game is simple. Having a friend is being
a friend. Faceless, replaceless
never graceless, with a spacious heart.
From start to end, a Good friend is priceless.
Good as gold, and then some. Without end.