Sunshine Award


At the end of March I discovered that April was the National Poetry Writers Month (NaPoWriMo) where people were challenged to write one piece of poetry per day. Prompts (purely optional) were given for each day. Never having publicly written poetry before I followed the prompts and put my poetry in this new blog. I watched my chart on and , lo and behold, people started reading it and I wasn’t getting hate comments! Then some comments came in saying that they actually liked some of it!
Now, be still my beating heart, I’ve been nominated twice for the “Sunshine award”. The first one, I assumed was a joke but after receiving the second one I decided to look it up.
The rules for the award are as follows:
A. Post the Sunshine Award logo.
B. Accept the nomination and link back to the nominator.
I certainly accept the nomination and am highly honored that you both not only read my poems but that you liked them! I’m also mega honored that two people that are actual poets nominated me. Thank you, thank you and thank you to:
who sent me encouragement and liked my titles. LOL! And to
who also sent me encouragement and when she found out I’ve always wanted to visit India but am afraid of crowds, invited me to stay with her! (I’ve been warned about people like that, LOL)
C. Answer the questions.
The Questions and Answers:
 My favorite color: Pink and Green (or was that cheating?)
 My favorite animal: Dog (Australian Terrier in particular)
 My favorite number: 7
 My favorite non-alcoholic beverage: Iced tea (un-sweet/no lemon)
 My favorite alcoholic beverage: Jim Beam on the rocks
 Facebook or Twitter: Facebook
 My passions: Dogs, antiques, glitter, money and the Adirondack Mountains in New York state (and no, this is not a part of New York City)
 Giving or receiving gifts: Giving. But, why is it so hard to get people to accept a gift for what it is and not think of it as an obligation?
 Favorite city: San Francisco, CA
 Favorite TV shows: Sorry, I don’t have a television
The Nominees:
D. Nominate ten other blogs and inform them of the nomination.
Ha! I get to nominate 20 because I was nominated twice!



Give me all the dogs
that are standing in pens
in their own crap and pee.

Give me all the dogs
that have never been
loved or had sympathy.

Give me all the dogs
that are so matted and
filthy, their skin is rotting.

Give me all the dogs
whose feet never touched grass
and have never heard their people singing.

Give me all the dogs
who are wandering and lost because
their people really wanted stuffed animals.

Give me all the dogs
that are smothered
in plastic bags by the armfuls.

Give me all the dogs
that are ancient, blind, deaf and
suddenly find that their people are gone.

Give me all the dogs
that have been dropped by the side of the road
or on someone else’s lawn.

Give me all the dogs
that are tied outside, looking in your windows
and only see people when they get their meals.

Give me all the dogs
so at least they can get one hug and kiss
before their fates are sealed.

Give me all the people
who are responsible for this cruelty
so that I can put them on display
in crates or drop them off in deserts
in the middle of the day.

Give me all the people.

Give me all the dogs.

Debb Miller

NaPoWriMo At The End

Good bye NaPoWriMo We’re At the Very End


Good bye NaPoWriMo, as tired as I have been

It’s truly inconceivable that you’ve become a friend.

I’ve never written poetry, but every day I’ve tried

And I tell you truly now, that my poor brain is fried.


My Microsoft Word is always open

And I lock myself into my den.

So I won’t miss a wondrous thought

A tape recorder I’ve even bought.


You’ve made me rhyme my sentences

I know by looking at my friends it is

A fact that they just want to escape

Or on my mouth put masking tape


I’ve a reservation in the Looney bin

But I’ll be adding to their poetic din

Goodbye my NaPoWriMo friend

And to the winds I will this send


I’ll ne’r forget you leading me

On to this smooth and wondrous sea.

You’ve opened a hole into my brain

That can empty itself like pattering rain.

NaPoWriMo, 2013, #30


Another Longfellow distortion of facts. Our prompt was to take a poem and write the opposite. I chose “The Arrow and the Song”, which, out of respect for Longfellow because I’m about to ruin his name, I will put first.

I shot an arrow into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For, so swiftly it flew, the sight
Could not follow it in its flight.

I breathed a song into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For who has sight so keen and strong,
That it can follow the flight of song?

Long, long afterward, in an oak
I found the arrow, still unbroke;
And the song, from beginning to end,
I found again in the heart of a friend.

My version “The Song and The Arrow”:

I shot my arrow to the ground,
I knew right then where it was bound;
So slowly did it move away,
I could see precisely where it lay.

I belted out a song to earth,
The arrow entered to its girth;
Anyone with ears could hear,
My song, and run in fear!

Soon, quite soon, stuck in the clay
The arrow, broken, where it lay;
Parts of my song that I had sung,
Stolen by enemies one by one.



Once I saw a dainty dancer

She twirled across the stage.

I wondered if this little figure

Was filled with joy or rage?


I saw no feelings on her face

As it was just a blur

I stood there staring at her grace

And wished I could be her.


Once I saw a woman ride

A horse so artfully;

Not a movement did she make

Their minds were one, you see


They walked and turned while in the ring

They cantered, jumped and flew.

Horse and rider both as one

I said “I want to be you”


Unfortunately, I go through life

Not looking at my talents.

Not confident of me, myself,

And lacking any balance


I try to show some confidence

I act so large and tall.

But family, friends and strangers

Don’t see me here at all.


I passed this on to daughter love

I was afraid of her conceit

And now I feel so terribly bad

That all she only feels defeat.


I know we’ve all made errors

And wish we could have changed.

But, sadly we must live with them

And only feel deranged.


Well, I’ve made so many “mother” errors

I remember every one

They’re things my mother taught to me

And Dr. Spock’s “good” way.


So, I crawl again beneath my rock

Relieved to be alone.

Perhaps this is my chosen space,

My special safety zone.


Have you ever thought how nice it would be if all people were quiet and didn’t talk so much!  Have you ever wondered how many words are necessary to say what you want?



Oh! Say I then loudly, leave me now!

Oh! Say I then loudly, leave me!

Oh! Say I then loudly, leave!

Oh! Say I then loudly.

Oh, say I then.

Oh, say I.

Oh, say!


NaPoWriMo, 2013, #29 (Optional Prompt)


Well, I guess my blender purchase was perfect. I sat down with a smoothie and used their instruction
In another language for the poem!

I purchased a licuadora* at K-Mart today
I have cravings for smoothies that won’t go away
The advertencia** for limpier*** were really quite clear
No submerge**** el cable***** and don’t use for beer.

*****the cord

NaPoWriMo Time



How can I work so much during the day

Spending and giving my time away

When I should be feeling the soundless air

Moving so sensuous through my hair


Instead I sit here inside my cave

Caging my brain so that it will behave

When I should be seeing the growth of green

But I just don’t have time to put up the screen


When I rise in the morning and look around

I count the things I’ve unfortunately found

And that now are just clutter just lying around

When I should be hearing the bird’s lovely sound


It doesn’t matter how much I do

It never gets done, I never get through

I make lists of things that I need to accomplish

When I should be smelling the outdoors like I wish


I stay up so late and work all I can

And I never finish the tasks I began

When I should be eating and enjoying the taste

I’m hurrying, scurrying and making waste


Who taught me to worry and hurry around?

Am I so greedy I can’t enjoy sound?

Who told me that I should not waste a minute or two?

And made me feel guilty of things I should do


I need to take time and to learn something new

Like ignoring the sights of the things I must do

I need to live simply and give up this trash

I need to enjoy living with not so much cash


But how?  I am asking you please do explain

How do I get rid of this hurry up pain?

Who can I trust to instruct me to release

Everything that I do that doesn’t mean peace


Maybe things will get better when April does go

And gives me my days back from NaPoWriMo

Some celebration that this month has been

I need to just clear my head and start over again.

NaPoWriMo, 2013, #28, Pretty in Pink

Pretty In Pink

My lady calmly crests the hill.

She wears the pink colors of innocence,

     her steed white enough to blind your eyes.

The battle stops as if every man has turned to stone.

Holding, with caution, her delicate pink parasol

     above her steed’s handsome, nodding head.

 She tilts her rose-tinted face as she comes slowly down the hill

     Smiling as if seeing not the insanity that has taken place.

  She sees not the dark red blood and gore running in rivulets,

     limbs now belonging to no one, strewn about recklessly

     as if they had dropped from the sky.

My lady smiles as she meets the eyes of the frozen fighters

     knowing that this battle has everything to do with her.

Knowing that with one word she can stop the carnage.

She takes no notice of the breezes bringing to her the

     overwhelming smell of warm fresh blood.

Her steed tiptoes through the entrails of men no longer men

     and moves its ears forward to the sounds of moaning.

Both steed and lady proudly walk onward

     and over the next hill.

The battle resumes its ferocity.


  • One last poem before I go to bed:

The earth isn’t what it appears to be

Each living thing has its own part.

Grandmother Spider has made it all work

together with no sign of a heart.

Although each thing lives on another

it will work out in the end.

The winner will someday be loser,

The loser will someday defend.

Never will things work together.

The earth doesn’t have enough room.

Species keep disappearing.

It’s only just part of earth’s gloom.

When I get to the other dimension

and am able to see Dad again,

I won’t give a hoot about earth things

Or what I’ve been through or have been.

I look forward to my next journey.

I’m not worried at all about death.

I feel that death is a beginning

of another nice sort of a breath.

Please don’t feel bad when I leave you.

You’ll soon be joining me, too.

And after our rest in the graveyard

we’ll have many more things to do.

New places, new thoughts, new beginnings.

Who knows where or with who we will be?

If there’s nothing then we won’t be worried

Because we’ll be gone don’t you see?

So don’t miss me please just look forward

To things that we can’t even sense

and don’t look so sorry and speak of me

as if I was in the past tense.