This is my response to DVerse’s “And the Sign Said” poetics prompt. We were challenged to use a sign as inspiration for a poem. These are photos of both sides of the Open / Closed sign at my work.

Flipping the sign in the window

From Closed to Open,

For the work day has begun:

I eagerly await the opportunities

To teach, and not only correct

But connect with every

Student who comes in.

I hope they know

That not only this facility

But my heart, in truth,

Is open too.

Because it is donut day….

Evidently, June 2 is national donut day. Linked to DVerse’s open link night.

Unassuming balls of dough

Are thrown into hot oil,

Then glazed or iced (pink frosting,

please!), dressed up in sprinkles

Or whatever strikes one’s fancy.

But before they are beautified,

A hole is cut from the middle,

And even that is fried,

But at least no piece is wasted.


Unassuming people

Are thrown into life’s trails,

Covered with fire and ice,

And holes are cut from their insides.

Yet even these pieces can be beautified,

It can one day create a sweetness —

I believe no experience is wasted.

Black Cat

A cat walks past,

Dark as a deep abyss,

And I would think,

“A bleak omen is this!”


But will it truly bring me harm?

Shall I judge how it appears?

No, not any more,

How many are unfounded fears!

Sometimes I think that something will be scary or unpleasant, but it doesn’t turn out that way. I often worry about things that never actually happen or are not as bad as I had feared.

Cascading Days

This poem is called a cascade poem because of the repetition of some of the lines. Thanks to Jilly’s for the link to the instructions on cascade poems and the inspiration!

The days cascade like a waterfall,

And flow like a deep and peaceful river,

I am a stone into this river thrown.


Yesterday is over after all,

Though of its permanence I felt sure

The days cascade like a waterfall


Going from and to places unknown,

Skipping over many tiny pebbles,

And flowing like a deep and peaceful river.


How did I get here? One can’t surely say,

Yet, being here, I’ll live to the utmost:

I am a stone into this river thrown.

Small Town

This poem was inspired by the city in which I live. It’s no longer a very small town, but it had a humble beginning. I am also linking this poem to DVerse.

This was a small town,

With orange groves

And oil derricks,

With unpaved roads

And wide open spaces,

I’d imagine neighbors

Gave each other

Cups of sugar.


All this happened

Before I was born.


Today the old high school

Is a Super-Target,

The new high school has

Run to the top of a hill.

I don’t see oil derricks

Or orange groves anymore.

The spaces have shrink,

Widening the gulf

Between people.

The clean dirt streets

Stretch on only in memories.


Yesterday’s daily prompt was to write about control, so I made this acrostic poem. I’m learning that always trying to be in control makes me become out of control, and clinging to the illusion that I can control everything becomes an obsession. I am learning to let go and experience life as it is, without trying to change what is not in my power to change.

Centering on control

Overturns any semblance of

Niceness; it

Turns traitorous,

Rancid, raucous, as


Leaves chaos in its wake.

viaDaily Prompt: Control