Tag Archives: resilience

LEAD WITH THE HEART

Lead with the heart

and the mind will follow

a path of peace and hope,

strong enough to carry

dreams and generosity

for all those you meet.

No matter how difficult

the journey it will not be taken

alone, silently, fearfully.

The heart knows best what matters.

The heart knows the best path.

The heart unites us joyfully.

The heart beats life determinedly.

The heart overcomes strife.

Lead with the heart and do your part

to create a world worth living.

Some paths are famous and large.

Some paths are unrecognized and small.

Every path matters to those

who walk it and make it their own.

Every path converges as we move

into the great unknown.

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Filed under POETRY

MY FELLOW AMERICANS

MY FELLOW AMERICANS

I hold my tongue.

It takes strength I do not have.

Whimpers escape

On shattered breaths,

In silent screams.

The fight worries my soul,

Battle weary and choking,

On words held tight inside.

Once the scream begins

I doubt I could stop.

I wait for your speech.

I yearn for your promise

To stop the authoritarian

Who has taken over our house,

Emptied its vaults,

Stolen its wealth,

Sold its power

To the highest bidders.

So, I write. That I can do

While I wait for you.

To me, this nothing new.

Do you believe me now?

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Filed under POETRY, POLITICS

DECONSTRUCTION

Columbus, Ohio 10-18-2025

The streets were lined for blocks on end.

Signs reminded all who rejoiced to attend

Why they walked and talked and smiled and waved

At passing cars who braved delays

While drivers honked horns and shouted out

“Vote him out and make it a rout!”

Costumed critters danced to our delight

Knowing their freedom would give him a fright.

Deconstruct the lies we have been told.

Deconstruct the narrative being sold.

Deconstruct the bullie’s hold.

Deconstruct institutional mold.

Gather in peace the young and the old.

Stronger are you, more wise, more bold.

Deconstruct so we can rebuild

What he has destroyed with his minions’ lack of skill.

We know how to do this, and more.

We have done it many times before.

Columbus, Ohio 10-18-2025
Columbus, Ohio 10-18-2025
Columbus, Ohio 10-18-2025
Columbus, Ohio 10-18-2025
Columbus, Ohio 10-18-2025
Columbus, Ohio 10-18-2025
Columbus, Ohio 10-18-2025

My thanks to my friends in Clintonville area of Columbus who helped me attend this moment of patriots’ challenge to the con men robbing the USA of its power, wealth, ideals and humanity. The lack of media coverage was appalling. The misrepresentation of attendance numbers cannot be challenged when media fails to provide images of the gatherings. A local station covered it AFTER it was over and crowds had dispersed. Another stated hundreds attended when it was actually thousands. We are here. We are resisting. We are going nowhere until the despotism and kidnapping of people and the Supreme Court, universities, news organizations, social media outlets, medical and public health Institutions… even our very language and the meaning of words and phrases has been brought to an end and freedom restored.

We shall not be silenced.

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Filed under COMMENTARY, POETRY, POLITICS

STORMY NIGHT

Photo by Tim Mossholder on Pexels.com

STORMY NIGHT

Scattered rain was predicted.

The evening news meteorologist

calmly warned of light rain.

Instead, a wild storm came

filling the night with thunder

and meaningless blunder

as lightening broke asunder

a peaceful, if not restful, sleep.

Too wild a storm to venture out in.

A storm to set us back and shut blinds

to keep from seeing or fearing ruin.

This storm rapidly blew in 

while most of us slept.

At sunrise, when I rose, I looked outside,

finally, and see the truth.

It is not what I was told, nor surmised.

The yard is battered.

its inhabitants scattered in burrows;

the garden littered and furrowed

by limbs  dragged and cuffed.

The flag hangs upside down

until it touches the ground

in sacrilege and shame.

The flag holder has been pulled loose,

its screws unscrewed, its anchor

pulled apart and left hanging in dark space

through a night of constant turmoil,

leaving my flag drenched and soiled.

In morning light I could finally see

the upending of  democracy,

right on my front porch

where everyone could if they would

easily see. No neighbor reported

nor interceded to fix a flag so distorted.

But, false solar lights alone

across the yard ways shone,

too low-light to assess 

a flag under duress.

In morning light, in my nightgown I alight

to pull my flag up and close.

I place it upright to stand tall,

allowing the tears soaking it to fall,

that it may slowly dry out with the sky;

held by a newly installed holder,

one stronger and bolder.

I promise you this: the flag, my flag,

will soon again fly safe and free.

As will all of our beloved country.

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Filed under POETRY, POLITICS

WEEDS

Photo by Marta Nogueira on Pexels.com

I love every root and branch

and bud and leaf and flower

holding tight potential

of their power

to change the earth

to a thing of beauty.

I even love the weeds,

especially the weeds

who grow between the cracks

in spaces where it seems

all nourishment and bounty lacks.

Weeds like me who do not match

the temper of the garden crowded

with well-trained and tended

seedlings following the garden pattern.

Such weeds seek light despite

the darkness hidden from view

which holds them tight

as they struggle and wage war

against the forces of cement

paving the way for others meant

to get ahead and reach their goal.

Weed’s only goal is to survive.

And yet weeds seem to thrive

when droughts abound

and heavy rains drown

roots tenderly planted

by those in charge

killing gardens which once delighted

and now appear blighted.

Weeds persist as they resist

the easy way, no easy prey

for those who grow bouquets

not for their own intrinsic value,

but to pick and tie with ribbon

that they may tie down the recipient

to whom they are given,

happy not to have to

deal with weeds.

Weeds are stronger than they.

Weeds survive the darkest days.

A world without weeds

would be a sorry place, indeed.

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Filed under POETRY

FREE THE STRAWBERRIES

Louise’s strawberry garden fenced to keep out chipmunks, squirrels,racoons,deer,rabbits,skunks and a variety of birds; allowing in rain, helpful pollinators, and insect enemies of other harmful insects. Rest assured the gate will be turned right side up and our American garden will once again flourish and produce sweet fruit. Patience and effort, constant weeding out those harming the garden. It takes time and is well worth the effort.

The fence is placed all around

The strawberries are in the ground.

The gate is upside down.

The harvest will be delayed

Dismantling what we made

hour by our, day by day.

Chaos alway brings change.

Gardens too rigorously defended

make fences necessarily upended

to reach fruit not intended

for anyone but a few

who fence out themselves, too. 

What is the gardener to do?

A gate is meant to let us through

to the crop we worked for,

and many of us died for,

a free country we yearn for.

We thought we planted within our reach.

We thought we had enough freedom to teach.

We never thought we would beseech

tearing down everything we had built

to avoid admitting our guilt.

The gate MAGA made is all atilt.

The fence is too high, clearly.

We are just so frustrated and weary.

We may never eat another strawberry.

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Filed under POETRY, POLITICS

GARDEN LESSON

Photo by Richa Sharma on Pexels.com

There is nothing like a drought

to teach what life is all about.

Waiting for the rain to fall

is not sufficient to survive.

Tender patience does not thrive.

Buds remain closed, tucked and hidden

deep among leaves’ folds

offering a pace to hide.

Roots buckle down deep

and down, down, down

to depths they seldom explore;

knowing once the rains do come

they may open up closed doors.

Eventually, rains come, and even pour.

Rains batter plants stressed and sore;

opening caches held within their core.

It is only after sun appears

that plants let go their fears.

And in that moment plants flower,

Their faith in Nature restored.

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SELF-STUDY 2

Louise Annarino ( upper right) with neighborhood friends, personal photos

Only the stump of the gangly tree remained

after Grandpa, who did not conceive the dream,

destroyed the dream with each cut of the limbs

of the tree from which his grandson fell and broke an arm.

To Grandpa the tree had lost its charm.

It had to be cut down to avoid more harm.

Adults are funny that way.

They too often see harm in children’s play.

Children, little heathens that they be,

expect harm with regular frequency.

And, so, the tree was cut off from us, but we

built a tree house anyway, in which to play;

and warned all adults to stay away.

It was not built prettily; but, with whatever

we pulled from cans along the alley,

and raided from piles of trash.

To a child such piles are a treasure cache.

Thus, we kids our tree house celebrated

though Grandpa was far from elated.

“Let them be, Pop,” Mom laughingly stated.

“Kids will be kids, as once were we.”

Lessons learned from a time so long gone,

remembered now, to remind us how strong

the need to create and celebrate rises

despite the times all goes wrong.

Life is simply full of surprises.

Building from trash is sometimes the wisest

and the best which we can do.

This is my self-study two.

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NOT JUST A DREAM

Photo by namo deet on Pexels.com

Dream bigger.

Seek more.

There are no limits

beyond the door.

Stand at the fence.

Find your spot.

Peek through the holes.

Let your interest be caught

by what you enjoy,

by what you have not.

It is all yours

wherever you look.

It is yours to explore.

One foot, then another.

Keep on going

until you discover

something you never

imagined before.

Let dreams guide your way.

Let them tow you along

to places of light and music

where you sing along.

Then dance through the night

and on into the light

emboldened and strong.

What a beautiful sight !

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Filed under POETRY

HAIKU

MAY FROST

Photo by Mariya on Pexels.com

First light. What a sight !

Tulips hold their petals tight.

Ice came in the night.

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Filed under POETRY