At Real Toads, we are invited to write about wistful sadness, or in Japanese, mono no aware.

I will let you pass through the checkpoint.

This is your flight, not mine.
Only those with a boarding pass may enter.

I have no pass; it is not my time.
But one day it will be my flight.
One day I will leave behind unknown others.

Waste Not the Days

Inspired by this prompt from Real Toads and based on a true story. I was on vacation for Thanksgiving this past week and actually felt much happier with more limited internet access, but coming back to everyday life, it is hard not to fall back into spending too much time online. 

On vacation, sans the internet,

I spent the days exploring, playing games

With those I love, but coming back I set

Myself in front of my laptop, the same

As I had before done — a waste, a shame.


In the Imaginary Garden, we are writing nonets. This form has 9 lines, beginning with 9 syllables, then 8, then 7, all the way down to one syllable in the last line.

How to explain personality?
Multifaceted, not able
To be succinctly defined,
Always a new surprise.
Taking countless words
To well describe
“Who am I” —
So I


At Real Toads today, we are exploring our doppelgängers. This is a true story.

An old photo from the ’70s,
A young teen in a Girl Scout uniform
Looks like me:
Long, straight brown hair
And glasses — the resemblance lasts,

It is not me. It is my mother,
When she was much younger,
But even her friends have wondered
Why she has shown them a photo
Of me, her daughter.

It used to frustrate me,
Since we are different people —
But now I’m beginning to turn into my mother
So maybe Nature had a reason
For making us look so similar.



A sonnetina tre for Linda Luna’s decastich challenge #30. It’s hard to believe there have been 30 challenges so far. I never knew there were so many poetic forms, and they have given me so much inspiration, even if I do not post the poems.

How many lives are now described in books!
How many worlds in which I can be free,
Many places revisited with looks
Of nostalgia, awe, comfort, amity.
The pages of a book are quick transport,
And cheaper than a tropical escape,
Words of hope sometimes provide comfort,
Like a superhero without a cape.
My soul is happy when I get to read,
Wise guidance and adventure are a seed.


This is a sonnetina quattro for the latest decastich challenge. This is a 10-line poem consisting of a sestet and a quatrain and is written in (roughly) iambic tetrameter.

We once had many trees and grass
Where this city currently stands,
Now if we have some luck we pass
A park, among asphalt islands.
Environment is made of glass,
Yet careless are most human hands.

There was a forest, with life filled,
Endangered by ambition’s plow,
How much of that life has been stilled,
And concrete is our forest now.

What Happened?

I wrote this one yesterday….

What Happened?

What happened to neighbors

Borrowing cups of sugar from each other?

What happened to neighbors?


What happened to sitting on the

Front porch on a summer evening?

What happened to front porches?

What happened to sitting outside?


What happened to orange groves

And lemons smiling yellow, on the

Sides of tree-lined streets?

What happened to the trees?


What happened to having roots,

And how can we branch out without them?

Math Tutoring

I wrote this while thinking about my job, which I love. However, most of my students would rather be doing anything other than extracurricular math. This poem is my first attempt at a sonnetina cinque. I hope I did this form correctly.

Delightful is my work to me but not
To all the children who arrive each day,
They sometimes do not do the work they ought,
They would prefer to go outside and play
Then do their math, so for patience I pray.
Delightful is my work to me although
Some students find it fun to misbehave,
I hope that all of my dear students know
That I care much for them, and I will save
These memories, as they their futures pave.


Here is a response to the latest decastich challenge from Linda Luna, the mirror oddquain. I thought that was a very…odd…name for a type of poem, but it comes from the word “cinquain.” Cinquains have line lengths of 2, 4, 6, 8, and 2 syllables, but oddquains use only odd numbers: 1, 3, 5, 7, and 1. Mirror oddquains are made up of two oddquains, but the second one is “flipped,” so that the final syllable count is 1/3/5/7/1/1/7/5/3/1. Now, without any further ado, here is my poem. Thank you for your patience. 🙂


A moment

To just breathe, and be,

There’s no need to constantly

Work —


And it will be evident,

What a precious gift

That patience




Inspired by a visit to my city library today and Linda Luna’s new decastich challenge, I wrote this mirror cinquain. The syllables are 2/4/6/8/2/2/8/6/4/2. Also shared with DVerse Open Link Night.

Get lost

In shelves of books,

Open pages like wings,

Beautiful covers inspiring



Making better places in which

To live, both eyes and hearts

And minds must be