20 Lines A Day

A Community of Writers and Photographers


Where Green Meets Blue

2014-07-13 10.14.43

There is no such thing as too much time by the sea
for she’s my closest friend
sometimes enrapturing me with laughter
sometimes pounding discontent
sometimes kissing my feet with salty tears

Long spaces of time may transpire between visits
but we start again right where we left off
marvel at the changes in each other
laugh together at the shorebirds
gobbling tiny morsels of gossip

We sit together, my sea-friend and I
pick up pink-striped shells, broken slivers of sand dollars
and throw them back into the welcoming waves

She cannot resist one more caress on the shore
and I, one more glance across the horizon
where green meets blue in perfect union

It may be true that I could share this love
with any other shore
nourish the same quiet friendship
but there is a secret here in the crystal sands
there is a solitude that spreads like religion
no matter how many people circle ‘round
there is healing like a baptism
in every splash upon the shore

SpiritLed 2014

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Birth Day

In a parlor plain and
solemn, a small crowd huddles
Tomorrow I celebrate
one more year, today
I attend my friend’s
final life celebration

Funerals produce in me
a subtle sense of asphyxiation
and I sit in the quiet chapel,
in this room full of acquaintances
and strangers, barely breathing
for fear I might explode
into unending tears

But the moon rising in my heart
speaks of fullness and cycles,
and creates in me a curious juxtaposition

and a shift happens, a veil lifts to reveal
awareness that death is life anew,
that as one celebrates birth
another now possesses a freedom
that earthly souls can only imagine

Rest in Peace, my friend,
and also my yesterday self,
for today we both start anew
and tomorrow as well,

fulfilled in the knowledge
that neither death nor birth
signify an end or a beginning

but rather each day is a new path
in our personal eternity,
one more step in the journey
of Divine life

© SpiritLed 2014

1 Comment



Get out the picture, blow off the dust

Take off the frame, it’s starting to rust

Remember the times that we had together

What happened to being best friends forever?


You don’t seem to notice, you don’t seem to care

You promise me something, and then you aren’t even there

You tell people my secrets; tell me your lies…

Who wants a friend… that makes you want to cry?


Life takes your dreams and turns them upside down

Friends talk about you when you’re not around

People make promises they just can’t keep

I’ve come to realize… talk is cheap


Some people don’t catch on, they rather just pretend.

While things are going smooth, they smile and call you ‘friend’.

Funny how you never know who cares until it hurts, and when it’s over,

Does it matter who blew off whom first?


I’ll never find another friend to take the place of you.

No one will ever touch my world exactly like you do.

No one who’s quite so thoughtful, no one I cherish so.

No one will mean so much to me I just wanted you to know.




I called you this morning….

I called, but there was no one home. Left a message after the tone.

I waited for what seemed like hours then called again to your empty house,

repeated the message and called again. No one answered. Where was my friend?

I tried to eat, I tried to sleep and from the phone there was no peep.

They sit with me, but don’t understand; it’s not enough to hold my hand.

It’s not enough without you here. It’s not enough to shed a tear.

Tears are cheap and I have none for without you my life is done.

I’ve become an insomniac just waiting for you to come back.

It’s not your fault – I know you can’t, no matter how many times I chant,

no matter how many times I lift the phone and leave the message after the tone.

I do it now just to hear your voice. I do it now because I have no choice.


NaNo Progress Report

Hey, writerly friends, I know I’ve been lax about writing here, but NaNoWriMo seems to have grabbed me by the throat and stolen all my time. I haven’t forgotten you.

At this moment I’m at 5820 words. In order to keep up with the daily average I need to be at 6667 by tonight, so I have to keep plugging away to get 800 more words. I’m enjoying the writing, but I know that if I fall behind it will be hard to get my word count back on track. So I’ve really been concentrating on my NaNo writing.

The fun I’m having comes, first of all, from my story. It’s about my college friends and how we gather every summer for a reunion. But, there’s a twist. And I’ve been talking with one of those friends — in fact, it’s Kathe (teadh) who’ here on 20 Lines — and she’s helping me with the accuracy of my memories of those wonderful college days. We talk and talk, getting hung up on this little thing that happened or that. It’s interesting how she’ll remember something one way and I’ll remember it another. But for the the most part our memories coincide.

Sheer numbers of the words accrue

like waves upon the shore. Brand-new,

the structure of this story, true

and fun to write, brings me to you.


The Artist

The Artist
To Margaret

At lunch this afternoon a writer-friend
showed me her art. Two talents wrapped up tight
in one — the writer and the artist blend.

Unfair, I rued, that she has coins to spend
in two banks while I pull the weeds and fight
that nagging writers’ block. My new-found friend

read poems I had written, said to tend
the garden where the sunshine casts its light.
This one, the artist-writer, knows to blend

her gifts, to offer compliments, to send
more possibilities my way. My sight,
at lunch this afternoon when a writer-friend

showed me that both of us have much to lend,
was limited. We’ll see our books take flight.
The artist-writer knows so well to blend

creative solitude with business trend.
At lunch this afternoon a writer-friend
said: Artists, with their words or paint, do blend.


a friend ..


with friends you never walk alone

always love to speak on the phone

your best is there through thick and thin

cheering you on if you lose or win

we always feel there’s none for me

if we knew who cared , surprised we’d be

no matter what we think in the end

we ll always be missed , by a friend





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