The Plot Eraser

Oh that I had a big chunky eraser that would wipe away my memory of my favorite books.


Then I could pick up that well worn tome, with quivering fingers turn to the first page and read.


Oh to start afresh with all the ups and downs, the suspense and the joy. Instead I reread and anticipate my favorite scenes while hunting for more good books to give me that first time rush.


What books would you use The Plot Eraser on?

Old Treasures

I found some old poetry on ancient floppy discs. I finally found a way to retrieve the information, thanks to a friend. I thought I would post my favorites.


The Willow’s Children

Gentle, soft as kitten fur,
Sitting in the daytime blur,
Living Life in sheer moonlight,
The willow’s secret treasure,

Wander willow children,
Soft and grey and small,
To never stay and always go,
The willow’s untamed children,

When summer’s gone, children follow,
Burrowed in warm soils to snooze,
Through cold harsh winter days,
In safety till the time for new,

Though as for now,
Fall soft and white,
To the ground from on the height,
The home of willow’s children.

Dedicated to Little Grey
Northshore School District Reflections Competition 1991-1992
1st place at district


The Lonesome Cow

“Look Mommy,” said the girl, tapping her on a shoulder,
The paper she held had only one thing,
A tiny, black, lonesome cow.

“Are there not any others?” the mother replied,
Just one all he be,
A tiny, black, lonesome cow.

“He is quite slow.  The others are fast”
Slow he may be, cause he’s,
A tiny, black, lonesome cow.

“But where is the grass?” asked mommy to she,
No color the paper held ‘cept,
A tiny, black, lonesome cow.

“His friends all came first. They ate it all gone,”
T’was true , she did see,
A tiny, black, lonesome cow.

“So make him some more before he does leave,”
But too late, there he be, plodding away,
A tiny, black, lonesome cow.

October 19, 1989



Like velvet,
Fresh with beauty,
Time and wear,
Soft petals tear,
Wind and storm,
Dull broken thorns,

Brittle and dry,
Ugly and brown,
Fallen to the ground.

July 27, 1992

I hope you enjoyed those. I used to be an avid poet. Maybe I will be again some day.