drawn to sculpture


bronze sculpture of woman

“Cascade,” by Victoria McGeoch

Daily Prompt: Artist’s Eye – Is there a painting or sculpture you’re drawn to? What does it say to you?


She stood there as my searching eye
swept over and around the many
sculpted forms fashioned to flow

like Cascade, each smooth
curve of her speaking a sensuality
not often found in the harsh shine of bronze,

head bowed in genial greeting, hands
behind an arched back artful as
a swan’s dignified nobility

and flair, her rippling gown
a swirling wave before her,
a leap of faith into grace,

a gentle sway of soft surrender
to the force from which she emerged,
artistry finessed by vision forever

merged with form, grounded like myself
newly pegged, old bone to new shaft,
ready to roll upon the rock on which I now stand firm.


taking it easy

Josh and Kate

the happy couple

My son is getting married next Saturday. He’s probably the one who should be taking a few days off. But I’m the one hanging out by the ocean with my two daughters and a close friend.making garden beds 1

They assembled five raised garden beds for me – my dream of permanent rhubarb, asparagus and raspberries to complement my husband’s dream fruit orchard now underway. This involved constructing the cedar beds themselves and preparing the ground beneath. How seamlessly each young woman found her niche in this cooperative effort. While I took it easy.

 at the crowbarIn one spot preparation required evicting a boulder from underground. This is New England, after all. I took it easy, capturing the deed.

Now the sun is getting ready to set, the largest moon about to rise. In a couple of hours’ time, my girls and I shall gather by the water’s edge to take it all in.

Taking it easy.pre-sunset

three poems out today!!

pencil sketch of my dad

pencil sketch of my dad – done when I was 18

In honor of Father’s Day, three poems from my collection honoring my Dad, Like Toast for Jam, have appeared on LiteraryMama. Once on the page, look down the list and you’ll fine my three poems. Or you can access each one directly this way:‘Hunger;’ ‘Simple Gifts;’ and ‘The Shower.’

My Dad lived to be 90, and died in 1997. It’s taken me a long time to bring these forward. I’d love to hear your comments – what resonates with you, moves you, raises questions. Have you experienced similar feelings or interactions with your father?

Please share your stories with me here! And Happy Father’s Day to all you dads out there.

a woman’s life had rules

sepia photo of my elegant mother

my mother as a young woman

A woman’s life had rules
when I was growing up,
rules about silence, propriety
in its many guises;

masks, false smiles, pretended
enthusiasm for male ego
being a good listener and always
maintaining silent approbation.

Those rules were cast in iron
and wrapped in a death grip ’round
heart and mind, restricting
blood to brain or any thought
of what  I might be, want, or do.

So it never occurred to me
to breathe into my heart,
question, create my own line
of boundary or defense – never thought
I had the power to say ‘NO!’
‘I’d really rather not,’ or

‘what about me?’

Those rules so silently slipped
from mother’s mouth to daughter’s duty,
silent words demanding silence –
there were of course other rules;
but as someone for whom words
are key, I found myself slow
to dismantle
that mother tongue
that tore speech from me
and sent it into oblivion.


Daily Post: Power, Rules