Nativity, at Night, A Christmas Poem Inspired by the Art of the Same Title of Geertgen tot Sint Jans, 1490 Beneath a Northern star, his life cut short, Geertgen tot Sint Jans, of Netherlandish sort. An oak wood sheet, his genius would proclaim, He built his Christmas mystery not for fame. Inspired by faith, the artist sought to spread The holy words that Saint Bridget had said. She saw a light no earthly sun could claim, A radiant glory round the Manger flame. "The sun in hea

Dedicated to Mrs. Thompson, my speech pathologist from 1980 to 1984, and to all speech pathologists who make a difference! Speaking can be hard... Growing up with a speech impediment shaped much of my early life in ways I did not fully understand at the time. Speaking clearly, something many take for granted, was a daily challenge for me. This blog shares my personal journey, the obstacles I faced, and how I learned to navigate a world where communication is key. Early Challe

The Italian sonnet, also known as the Petrarchan sonnet, stands as one of the most enduring and influential poetic forms in Western literature. Its structure and rhythm have shaped poetry for centuries, offering a clear framework for expressing complex emotions and ideas. For poets today, understanding and using the Italian sonnet can open new creative paths while connecting with a rich literary tradition. Handwritten Italian sonnet on aged paper What Defines the Italian Sonn

Ted, Waiting For His Boy, A Prose Beginning and Concluding in Couplets, August 1, 2025 Such is the pain that mothers must bear, such as the anguish woven into the air. He is Ted, the Boston, the low-slung loyal heart, who does not understand the calendar or the sudden void. He only knows his boy, now a grown man, is missing from the sound of the front door. He waits. His eyes are now clouded, his steps are slow and stumbling. He now bumps the chair leg; his gait is shaky.

A Grief Observed, CS Lewis: Two Couplets with Quotes and a Poem In Between (The quotes are in italics) The walls of my logic, built of clear, certain light, Have crumbled to ash in the first endless night. My faith, once a fortress that stood firm and tall, Now feels like a cold, empty house after the fall. "No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear. I am not afraid, but the sensation is like that of being afraid."  She has been gone long enough now that memory is not