Stones and bones hide memories: July’s Prose Poem Prompt — Over 147,000 snakes on Snake Island, they said. I wish I’d paid attention before stepping on it. Was it a boat that took us there? Or maybe only a bridge? All memories have been expunged by that family of six, dancing in the sun in a magical weave, rising up…

thank you Julia Kantic, Chris Drew, and edh lamport for tagging me Apart from the blurb on my profile? (“ Romanian-Canadian polyglot, Zumba instructor, jewelry maker, occasional translator, mother, humanitarian, former PM in IT… Ah, and I write. @allwordscanada”) Huh. I grew up in communist Romania, wearing hand-me-downs from a…

Plague of human existence — Foreigner since birth in a house, not mine told from an early age, it is not my home, pariah to myself I have become. Misfit in my body, which I hated for what others saw, grubby hands trying to touch it, never asking for permission. …

13th of November — I remember it, and I may always will, finishing the meditation teacher training and getting that certificate; you’ve got to merge your profiles, put your name forth, get rid of aliases to give yourself more chances on social media. Georgia Lewitt, though, existed, and killing her brought deadly silence- something…

Saturday Poetry Prompt: provoking the theatrical — Did I blink? As swept by spring, my stage sings in bright colours, hugging my senses one by one and together in a madness harmonious as only madness can be for oneself. The tears of the cherry trees caress my cheeks and puddle into my cupped palms, fragile touches, feathers…

Love Can Be Quiet And Still — Words jumping on page, busy ants on their way, I believed you were mine for eternity when I plucked them out with care, one by one, all pretty and flattering, delicate tutus for little girls grasping the notion of physical beauty and carnal display on musical notes. Then avalanches came…

Noah's ark or battleship? Who am I to judge bad English and loud voices? I feel naked, swaying on the corner of a star. My brain chooses Andalusia, and I remember Gibraltar and the lights of Marocco. We're powerful in our wake. If only we kept watch on our minds…

Remember you are held and each moment is a gift — Dear one, life is for the living. It sounds cruel now, as my heart mourns another woman's passing, a lioness, a hunter who lost her fight with cancer. And yet, she lived. She fell, time and time again, picked herself up and lived. There are so many moments in our…

My Love — Would you stop staring into the core of my being? I taught you, then let you turn the kaleidoscope that brings my shattered self into a colourful focus. Even I find it mesmerizing. Today begins as surreptitiously as ever, with the sun gliding, shy at first, heaving the light in…