Had I but known it was the last time I would look
Upon your face, into your eyes…
I would have lingered there.

Had I but known it was the last time I would feel
Your very presence, next to mine…
I would not dare have let go.

Yet now, they’re only memories, barely kept
In the recesses of my mind,
Threatening to tell me you never were

As you said, forever mine.
Then you were gone.

Had I but known it was the last time I would breathe
Your very essence, take in your scent…
I would never have exhaled.

Had I but known it was the last time I would taste
Your tender lips, with honeyed kisses…
I could not have pulled away.

Yet now, they’re only demons, taunting me
Within the dreams of restless sleep,
Making me believe you have returned

To be, forever mine.
Then you are gone.

Had I but known it was the last time I would hear
Your words so tender, full of love…
I would have blocked all else out.

Had I but known it was the last time I could sense
The bond between us, sworn eternal…
I would have prayed for its recapture.

Yet now, they’re almost gone, departing me
As if you never were, or did not care,
Beseeching me, forget the love we shared.

An empty space, forever mine –
For you are gone.

© 2012 Jody Love

Recesses. Published in World Poetry Movement (compiler), Great Poets Across America: A Celebration of National Poetry Month. ISBN: 978-1-61936-035-8.

(Author’s note: I’m sure the loss of someone we love, under whatever circumstance, resonates deep within our souls. I term it “the without within.” As 9-1-1 poignantly calls upon us again today to remember loss in conglomeration, it amplifies that empty space for many, individually and as a nation – and even as a world desperately in need of love, forgiveness, and understanding.)

Ode to the Fellow in Yellow

When considering what season we’re now in, I first thought of the Power of Pollination.
(It’s been so cold this year, that’s the only way we can recognize Spring.)

Then I remembered…
Prom season is preparing to pompously parade upon us.

Just to prove that Pollen isn’t the only thing that comes in yellow this time of year…
I thought I’d share this great prom photo of one of my colleagues and her date
from a few years past.

(When I put out a call for old prom pics – of which I, myself, never went –
Lori was the only one to respond, God bless her!
I thought I’d bless her – and her date, Tim – with an ode to their tropical evening of days past.)

Ode to the Fellow in Yellow

Mellow is the fellow who dares to wear yellow,
Ne’er to be mistook for a scoundrel in the bordello,
Nor a violent man of passion, such as was that guy, Othello.
Though he might often be a comic as that jokester was, Costello…
He plays his women smooth and strong, as if he were a cello.


My good friend, Lori – and her prom date, Tim
(who, btw, did give me permission to post these cute pics)

Procreation of a Protagonist

Could I have ever hoped for someone

to satisfy me as you do?

In return, each night,

fingers lightly caress

the conception of your being –

birthed from none other than

my wanton desires.


As Trifecta soon comes to a close by the end of this month, we’ve been asked to stretch ourselves. Maybe I’m just fanning myself a little instead. 😉  Or perhaps, I’m simply up at late hours, my fingers sliding across the keyboard as I feel I’m falling in love with the same characters that I’ve deliberately allowed to suffer throughout their development – until the adversity fully stretches them, causes them to grow, to change, to transform – and then to recreate something more alive than ever in me. How satisfying is that?!

This post will be the last one-word prompt from Trifecta. Betcha’ might’ve already guessed it, butWithout further ado. . .

SATISFY  (transitive verb)
1a : to carry out the terms of (as a contract) : discharge
b : to meet a financial obligation to
2: to make reparation to (an injured party) : indemnify
3a : to make happy : please  

 b : to gratify to the full : appease
4a : convince
b : to put an end to (doubt or uncertainty) : dispel
5a : to conform to (as specifications) : be adequate to (an end in view)
• Your response must be exactly 33 words.
• You must use the 3rd definition of the given word in your post.
• The word itself needs to be included in your response.
• You may not use a variation of the word; it needs to be exactly as stated above.
• Only one entry per writer.
• If your post doesn’t meet our requirements, please leave your link in the comments section, not in the linkz.
• Trifecta is open to everyone. Please join us.

Link up here!

– See more at:

Swept Away

As I take a quick glimpse out my office window during this lunch hour, I see snow showers trying to convince me that I want to come out and play. The only comfort I take in seeing more snow is the realization that it helps bring some excitement to the spring water flow rates.

For now, another wintry week, another Trifextra challenge (which means we’re limited to 33 words on this one).

Oh, and that’s not all. Here are this week’s rules to write by:

This week we’re asking for exactly 33 of your own words about love gone wrong.  But we’re asking that you not use any of the following words:




I’m the only one in the raft with any feminine charm.
(If you can’t identify me by that characteristic, please don’t feel the need to let me know!)



Splashing rivers swept o’er me
Moments crying out in delight.

All fear and doubt washed well away
Waves of gladness, none of fright.


Floods of torment sweep me off my feet.



Congrats to this past week’s champions.

This weekend’s challenge is community judged.
  • For the 48 hours following the close of the challenge, voting will be enabled on links.
  • In order to vote, return to this post where stars will appear next to each link. To vote, simply click the star that corresponds with your favorite post.
  • You can vote for your top three favorite posts.
  • Voting is open to everyone.

– See more at:

The Release

He slipped in during the most quaint hour of my life –

The moment in which I had given up on my frantic search for fulfillment,

yet only seconds before I was prepared to reside in kind with loneliness.

He surely had never been bold before now in the announcement of his intent –

For that matter, I was certain he’d thought nothing of me at’all,

seemingly caring very little for my former presence in his midst.

After all, we’d kept one another’s company, in an aloof sort of way, on prior occasions –

In past days, when his eyes had been upon others,

his heart fancying their presence on his arm

in lieu of mine.

I was quite taken aback when he at last turned his focus on me.

Oh, let me assure you. In a million years, I would’ve sworn to you –

I meant absolutely nothing to him.

I would’ve lifted my chin haughtily and declared to you –

I’ll never offer him the response he’s sought from so many others

before me.

Yet there I was, most peculiar in my retort to his grotesque charm –

Falling into his ample arms,

casting my breathiness upon his face,

feeling my heart no longer tepid to his touch.

Take me! I cried. I am yours!

He pulled me close to his frame,

wrapped me tenderly in his arms,

cloaked the chills traveling my spine.

Finally – my release –

as Death offered me his long-awaited kiss.


Written in response to this week’s Trifecta prompt – 3rd definition of:

QUAINT (adjective)

1:  obsolete:  EXPERT, SKILLED
2a:  marked by skillful design <quaint with many a device in India ink — Herman Melville>
b:  marked by beauty or elegance
3a : unusual or different in character or appearance :  ODD
b : pleasingly or strikingly old-fashioned or unfamiliar <a quaint phrase>

– See more at:

Trifecta 109: The Queen of Whatever

Whatever you say…

Whatever you do…

It can’t quite measure up to what I hoity best do

– for –

I am ‘The Queen of Whatever.’


Whoever you are…

Or wish you could be…

Don’t expect you’ll ever be near good as me

– for –

I am ‘The Queen of Whatever.’


What’s that you say?

What’s that I hear?

You think you’re the Who’s-it of What’s-it, my dear?

– You –

Claim you’re ‘The King of More Clever?’


Aim well.

Bloody hell.



Bet you bloody well had trouble guessing this week’s word, right?

Yeah, whatever…

Ligo Haibun Challenge – Image Week

I’ve been out of the loop with the wonderful Ligo Haibun Challenge community, who first taught me what a haibun even was (it’s the combination of prose with a haiku, in case you were wondering) and, in that, made me realize how much I love this communicating art form. This week, we’ve been given the challenge to complete our haibun task as close to 123 words as p0ssible, using one of the visuals provided. According to Microsoft, I met the challenge exactly (but, admittedly, even computer programs miscount on occasion). This time, I hope it used all its digits. Get it?! Okay, moving along…

I chose the photo that our Pirate (Managua Gunn) describes as such: “The first picture is by Marina, my first penpal, from Kazan, in Tatarstan, who took the view from her flat.”  As beautiful as it is, my heart and mind immediately thought of the hardship this scene might create for some.


I slinked outside the window of the only shop that still appeared open, listening to its television hum, scrutinizing the perfect smile of the news anchor. She only laughed at me, her teeth as white as the snow she proclaimed to be beautiful, Botox causing her brow to be as peaceful as she declared our city amidst this unanticipated winter storm. Wasn’t it wonderful for everyone to be home, snug in their beds, she insisted.

I shuffled down the alley behind the store, unaware if my limbs ached. I could feel them no more. If city folks were boarded up in their houses, from where would I beg my next meal?


Snow: no warm blanket

my trembling form – unfeeling

as those warm inside


Please don’t forget the homeless this time of year. Even if they can find a meal and a night’s rest at a shelter, many have to leave – often before daylight – in the mornings (including children), when the temperatures are bitter cold. Many others aren’t even that fortunate. Consider a Christmas gift to your local shelter or church who ministers to the homeless. Even if you’re short on cash, perhaps you have some coats, gloves, insulated underwear or blankets that you aren’t using and that could be put to good use by others. Food banks run short during this time of year as well, as people who can sustain during warmer weather seek indoor shelter with warm meals to keep from becoming deathly ill. A small donation of cash or food can go a long way at your area food bank.

May your heart be warmed & blessed,



PictureJoin the Ligo Haibun Challenge by following this image URL.

The Problem with Me-N

Problem with Me-N

I haven’t been on the Trifecta grid for a little while, so I was pleased to have a few minutes to ponder today’s new Trifextra weekend prompts. This weekend we’re being asked to add our own thirty words to the following three words that were supplied for a total of thirty-three. Hope you enjoyed mine. By the way – this little exercise & the tremendously wonderful Trifecta group isn’t exclusive. Throw some of your own words out & come join us! Here’s the 3 you’ll need to include this time around:


– See more at:

A Beastly Trifextra Challenge

I long for those primitive days of old.

Then, whenever I’d screech and roar my beastly best,

all went well in my world.

I’d be held,



Where did the cuddling go?


This was written in response to this weekend’s fun Trifextra 33-word challenge. What better to write about than beastly behavior, as the Hallowed Eve tries to slip upon us?

Thirty years ago, Roald Dahl published the book Dirty Beasts, a collection of poems for children about weird and wonderful animals. The last poem, however, is called The Tummy Beast about a boy who thinks there’s someone living in his belly. Your Trifextra challenge is to write 33 words on a beast in an unusual place. No swamps or forests or caves, we really want you to take your beast out of its comfort zone. – See more at:

Ligo-Haibun Challenge: Mud-luscious & puddle-wonderful

The PROMPT:- The world is mud-luscious and puddle-wonderful  – E.E. Cummings

I’m not sure when it happened. Somewhere, somehow, I forgot I had the gift. Early on, I was certain I was a gourmet chef when my father allowed me to graduate from heating hot tamales in a can for dinner to making scrambled eggs for the first time. At 7, these became my specialty, oozing with cheese.

So gone were the days of lesser dishes now, such as the reheating of frozen sausage and biscuits for breakfast, or the stirring of my father’s favorite delicacy – crunched saltine crackers in ice-cold milk, a side of salty sardines with the lid already peeled back.

One day, in a lightening’s flash, it all came back to me though. I walked outside, beckoned by bass drummers playing my song. My skin felt tingly to the invitation to join in, to dance and sing, to play to this tune. Within minutes, my feet stomped and splashed and squished to the rhythm, laughter erupting as my best friend joined me there.

In that moment, my memory was fully restored. My hands dug into soft dough, confidently mixing selected ingredients around. Within mere seconds, my masterpiece was completed for the offering.

taste buds never lie /
I present you my earth pie /
chocolate, I’d say