Not Every Leaf Floats

Not every leaf floats freely.
Some may stop to rest.
Other things dress the woods
with sounds, scents and movement.
Farther into the forest,
these feet will not fear,
a long run back out.
I feel safer
closer to the car.
My enough is all right,
for an autumn walk, a stop, look,
ponder how the animals
do without the pond full.
My thoughts are building up
like the leaves on the ground,
colored with change, encouraged
by this is where we
are meant to be.

October 2021

Not posting poems means that no poems are posted. Lines are still written. Stanzas still grumbled and tumble from my imagination. Years are smoother only in places. Much like the mud in a shallow pond near dry from lack of rain, words like animals humpf and sigh for the interruption is a bother, a displacement of things we are meant to have, to experience. I believe during the time away from posting, I’ve found a way to not end up thinking about food and forest when I’m writing. I’ll research if other poets have a subject that bugs them like the cat walking on the keyboard at the moment when things are going well. Do they feel the writer’s energy? Want to be around the positive vibe? My food issue isn’t a cat. If it was.

Dust Cloths

When there is despair
slipping, like a sock under
a heel, farther and farther
down until a lump line
presses into my foot,
perspective by my directive,
lifts pain out.
Success with no regrets
for not allowing
those turmoils to self level.
No more cowering in corners
and showering my face with tears.
My socks that slip,
make good dust cloths.

January 2021
M. Flannery

Walking to Work

There is a ripple floating free,
far away from where it wants to be 
around smooth attitude stones
strewn about your path by efforts
sprung from being in a hurry.

There could be another way 
of arranging the day, the dress,
the rest of all the stuff
you needed to be there, but you
are slow, tidy and precise.

The wind begins to move
closer to your smile, paper
cup, and deli oatmeal bar 
dripping with your special mustard
mix of applesauce and cinnamon.

It could have been yesterday
or this afternoon. It could have 
been now or flying away in a balloon,
as your measured and ruffled
thoughts jumble resolutions.

The next light signals
you to move forward again
with your brisk and brave,
determination for gladness.
The sidewalk celebrates you.

January 2021

Changes & Directions

Selecting a free theme on can be an interesting process. There’s an editor thing some of the themes require in order to work; and a logo link that brings you to the Fiverr website that will build you a logo that you can buy. The Fiverr website is fun, but I didn’t go far enough to learn what the fun would cost if I chose to buy a logo. I chose a free theme that looks nothing like what is actually showing up here. By far, it is thee best glitch I have experienced on WordPress because I love the simple design.

I am currently working on a poem. Since I began editing poems, no more first draft with tweeking, finishing a poem can take days, and now I learn, weeks.

This poetry blog is back on public setting after a horrible experience with adult ads. If it happens again, then I will move this blog to another website.

A theme that I want is one where I can share information about poetry. Instead of my poems only, have more content about poetry. On the average, this blog gets very low traffic. I’m all right with that. After over 8 years, I’m use to the quiet. There’s a lot of other blogs in the same traffic level category. Why some of them reach stardom, I have no idea. No advice on how to build an audience from me. I cannot see myself as a poet that recites in person, my own poems. I feel that I am also not alone with that. I believe there are a lot of poets that feel that same way. A poetry podcast, however, is on my mind. I have a small tape reorder I bought years ago to help me with course homework. I can practice using that, my phone or laptop. A big set up isn’t necessary for a small podcast. Adding an audio feature to my blog has been a thought for years.

Next post will be the poem I’m working on.


I am glad for the rain.
The watery damp
matches my sorrow heart,
provides me company,
and adds belonging
to the seasoning of life.
If only my woes fit
on a raindrop.
Precipitation reads me,
similar in our story
of how we flow—
Downpours obscure
the strongest tears.
Summer sprinkles,
make a wet face sparkle.
A blustery November wind
can freeze heartache
better than time will tell.
I am glad for the rain.

October 2020
Rain is the soulful blues of weather, changing lyrics with every storm that passes over. I like rain, in moderation, no flooding or harm done rain. Downpour, sprinkle, drizzle, rainfalls have personalities that can wake up creativity, bring it out of the blues, and, inspire us, if we pay attention.