Thursday, December 31, 2015

I will smile with hope. 
Tomorrow is a new year. 
Today is the past.

by:  Paula D. Nevison

Monday, December 28, 2015

Blustery Holiday

A windy day.
You didn't quite shut the door.
Two dogs got out and ran away.

A call that you're in jail
while at the in-laws Christmas Eve.
Tomorrow we will come with bail.

Those boys keep calling dad.
Why are you in jail, not them?
Both, for you, are very bad.

It has been some holiday.
The pound opens this morning.
The dogs are there, I hope and pray.

by:  Paula D. Nevison

Sunday, December 20, 2015

I do because I care

I feel like I'm stuck on pause.
My husband is gone to work his 12 hour shift.
I don't want to think about the mess my daughter's in.
So I'm in bed playing a game on my phone I can't win.
I had cookie momentum going the other night,
but my awesome helper youngest daughter squashed it.
“Mom, we don't have to make them all tonight.”
She was right,
but now I've stopped and can't get going.

Christmas is going to be wrong this year.
The baby will be at her daddy's, not here.
The tree still needs to be set up.
Gift shopping will be last minute again.
Only half the cookies are baked.
I don't even have a Christmas day menu plan.
We are going to his mom's for Christmas Eve soup,
and to see my missionary/nurse (better than me)
sister-in-law, and her family.

I need to un-pause, suck it up, and start doing.
Everyone else is expecting. I will not disappoint.
Today will be a good day. It's all about what I make it.
I am a grown up, and I can control that.
I will put on a smile, and some Christmas music,
start the laundry, empty the dishwasher, and bake.
Christmas is coming, and even though we don't show it,
my family cares, and I love them,
and I think they all know it.

by:  Paula D. Nevison 

Saturday, December 19, 2015


I did not create this mess.
Had my original advice been followed,
there would not be this trial and test.
Yet I am picked to deliver the bad news,
pick up the pieces, pay the bill, and fix the fallout.
Like with the puppy and promises years ago,
I am the one who has to clean up the shit.

by:  Paula D. Nevison

Saturday, December 5, 2015

A Better Cook Than Me

My husband cooks on the weekends,
sometimes during the week.
He's a better cook than I am.
He doesn't worry about calories.

He uses salt and butter,
just like Paula Deen,
and even though that is my name,
I can't bring myself to do the same.

I like food the way it is.
It needs no extra flavoring.
Simple, fresh, and raw,
on this I am unwavering.

So when my children ask,
and I tell them what I'm going to cook,
their faces change from inquisitive.
They give me that disgusted look.

But when they see their dad
sharpening knives at the table,
they know that he's about to cook
(and meat and cheese are his staple).

But seriously,
I CAN follow a recipe.
Yet he can improvise, and make a delicious surprise.
He is a better cook than I.

by:  Paula D. Nevison 

Wednesday, December 2, 2015


A little boy,
bundle of joy,
being shy,
almost a surprise.

by:  Paula D. Nevison

Tuesday, November 24, 2015

For Ava, I am Strong

Money spent on drugs, not bills,
Cheeto vomit in the drive,
purple face, ambulance keeps him alive.
Swollen feet, heart is weak.
“Please don't leave. I'll quit, believe.”

Bruises, broken promises.
Little eyes witness it.
Sheriffs, warrants, pending court.
I don't want to give up.
He wants to make it work.

Happily-ever-after mirage turned nightmare
with man who only cares
when he's high on drugs.
But he loves drugs more,
just like before.

I cannot stay and fix this mess.
Two others tried, without success.
It's not about giving up on him.
It's about my daughter, and the child within.
I will do what's best for them.

by:  Paula D. Nevison

Sunday, November 8, 2015


One baby,
only one.
She knows the names
she wants for a son.

Next visit
we will know
if boy or girls names
are the way to go.

Blue and yellow,
or a pink.
I'm knitting both.
What do you think?

by:  Paula D. Nevison

Monday, September 14, 2015

Beginning and End

One more week until
we find out if it's twins or not,
the beginning.
One more week until
my daughter gets her braces off,
the end.

by:  Paula D. Nevison

Saturday, September 5, 2015

The Never Ending Edge

The never ending edge,
or so it seems,
1,216 stitches.
Knit two together, slip it back.
Knit two together, slip it back.
Again, and again.
The last row was two days of patient work.
Until finally
I'm finished,
but not yet.
Weave in the beginnings
and the ends of yarn,
or all that work could fall apart.

by:  Paula D. Nevison

The first of three baby blankets from "Another Excuse to Knit"

Monday, August 31, 2015

We Wait, and I Knit

Found out she's pregnant.
Twins run in his family.
Ultra sound scheduled.

by:  Paula D. Nevison

Saturday, August 29, 2015

Pictures from His Truck

A Utah mountain sunset,
North Carolina landscape,
Minnesota corn field, and
field of California grapes.

Painting pictures of places I've never been
texted to me by my daughter's new husband.

Traveling, driving his great big semi-truck,
in the sun, and in the rain, and through the muck,
texting us pictures of the places he's been
until his travels bring him back home again.

by:  Paula D. Nevison

Wednesday, August 26, 2015

The Park Today

After telling me that I could sit and watch her play,
that she would run around where I could see,
convincing me to take her to the park today,
she wanted me to help her swing. “Oma, push me.”

Even though I was standing in the sun,
even though the cool morning air turned hot,
even though she did not play around and run,
at the park this morning, we both had fun, a whole lot.

by:  Paula D. Nevison

Thursday, August 20, 2015

The Beach to Me

Waves slosh silently over the sand.
Soaring seagulls spy meals down on the land.
Seashells are swaying with the waves.
A gentle wind today behaves
wafting the smell of sweet salt spray.
Worshiping the sun, people lay
with slathered skin to soak the rays.
Children sit in sand and play.
Sharks, and jelly fish swim beneath the waves
waiting with anxious jaws, and sharp teeth
for an unsuspecting swimmer to eat.

Personally, I am not an ardent admirer
of prostrating my body on the burning beach.
My epidermis is adequate the way it is,
without ultraviolet radiation carcinogens
metastasizing mutant melanoma
to create a darker pigmented protective organ.
I want not to propel myself through salty liquid
with man eating animals waiting to sting, or bite me.
Becoming part of the food chain is not my fantasy.
Blistering sunbeam alchemy brings only agony.
I am not a beach bunny.

I like to swim,
but a pool is fine
in the evening
when the sun is kind.

by:  Paula D. Nevison

Wednesday, August 19, 2015

Blackout poem

The ocean,
carried a cloud.
The sunlight,
continued down.
until morning. 

by:  Paula D. Nevison 

Random words I chose from those on pages 100-101 of Secret Sea by Rob White.

Saturday, August 15, 2015

The Argumentative Crow

Opa is out the door first.
He tells Ava, “Listen, the bird is arguing with me.
The crow squawks, “Uh-uh,” as if he's saying no.
Opa says, “Uh-ha,” meaning yes.
Crow, “Uh-uh.”
Opa, “Uh-ha.”
Ava joins the argument, “Yah-ha.”
Crow, “Uh-uh.”
Ava, “Yah-ha.”
Crow, “Uh-uh.”
Ava yells back indignantly, enunciating carefully
(like only a four-year-old can do), “Stop arguing with me!”
Crow, “Uh-uh.”
Ava growls in frustration as she walks toward me.
I help her into the car, and buckle her,
and she unhappily informs, “That bird is arguing with me.”
I reply, “Sounds like it.”
She exclaims, “That's not nice!”
I smile at her and say, “You are such a cutie pie.”
A big grin appears from her ear to ear.
I kiss her head, shut her door, and walk around to mine.

by:  Paula D. Nevison

Wednesday, August 12, 2015

Smiles replaced her fears. 
Empowering to watch her 
conquering the world.

by:  Paula D. Nevison

Tuesday, August 11, 2015

No More Boundaries

She is confident,
can do any, and all, things.
She has no more bound's.

by:  Paula D. Nevison

Monday, August 10, 2015

Canine Conundrum

When I sit on my bed with my computer propped on an empty flat box, my dogs lay down on the floor all around me, quiet, peaceful, still. When I sit at my desk in the den, typing away with better posture, my dogs roam around, wrestle with each other, or stand by barking, rubbing their wet noses on my elbows or my knees annoyingly. My location is the only thing I changed. Why do the dogs behave so differently?

Sunday, August 9, 2015

A Texted Picture

Big smile, sparkly eyes,
the happiest her I've seen
in too many years.

by:  Paula D. Nevison

Saturday, August 8, 2015

Living Now

Playing chase.
Running circles around the yard.
Peeing on the lawn mower, or the grill,
in addition to the trees.
Looking up to the sky
and barking
at the squirrel
they cannot reach.
My dogs live in the now.
They don't worry about tomorrow.
They don't dwell on what is past.
They live fully in the moment,
exuberant, playful, sometimes patient
(expecting, trusting, believing – not really)
They are here,

by:  Paula D. Nevison

Friday, August 7, 2015

A Quit Walk in the Garden

Orange fish swim silently
in the smooth waveless water.
This is an ugly place, and yet serene,
Japanese Garden.
What's a garden about a brown pond?
Where are the flowers?
Unless the fish are the flowers,
and their swimming
is the swaying in the breeze.
There is no breeze.
Just hot, humid, boring,
searing sun.
I'm going home.
I can see prettier scenes
on the Internet,
enjoy the beautiful outdoors
in my air conditioning, and
interact with strangers
all alone.

by:  Paula D. Nevison

Thursday, August 6, 2015

right before the rain,
feel a puddle in the air
high humidity

Wednesday, August 5, 2015


What to take, and
what to leave for him?
What's important?
What's garbage?
Pack it careful.
Hope it fits.

She picked the hottest time of day
to carry all her stuff away.
It's when the old boyfriend's at work,
which is good 'cause he's a jerk.
Too many things, she needs to keep.
It won't all fit in new man's jeep.
She wants me, and my empty car.
To the new house, we must drive far.
I hate that it's such a distance,
but I'm glad to lend assistance.
Less than a week, those two have dated.
To be together, they were fated.
I hope this is no disaster,
but a happily ever after.

by:  Paula D. Nevison

Monday, August 3, 2015

When Do I Write?

When do I write?
All day and night,
in little bits and pieces.
I live an interrupted life
as mom, Oma, and wife,
and must use moments in between
carpooling kids and washing jeans.
When I do have time to sit,
I pick up needles and I knit.
I have notebooks by my bed,
pens and pencils in the drawer by my head,
a grocery list notebook in my purse,
that has been used to scribble verse,
and a kid's school notebook in my car.
I'm a red light writing star.
Two computers on my desk
I use to compile these random lines of text.
Rearrange and edit for a minute
while supper overcooks.
My name may be Paula Dean
(Nevison), but I am not a cooking queen,
just a stay-at-home mom who always works.

by:  Paula D. Nevison

Sunday, August 2, 2015

Once in a Blue Moon

Blue moon shining bright
the night before my class starts.
– Omen in the sky.

by:  Paula D. Nevison

Saturday, August 1, 2015

Dishwasher Duty Discernment

She can't reach to put away the glasses or the plates,
and I don't really want to risk the potential breaks.
But having her help me unload the dishwasher
is an easy to way to promote in her
a healthy self-perception
if I make this a positive interaction.
I need to set her up to succeed.
“Will you put the silverware away for me?”

One by one she takes a fork or spoon
and matches them with those already in the drawer
putting them where they belong.
Hopefully, this will take long enough
that I can put away all the fragile stuff
before she starts handing them to me,
which she has done successfully,
over the tile floor.

It's worth the trepidation
and the extra time it takes
to include my eager four year old
in tasks even this mundane.
The benefits to her are great
(she never does complain),
and totally outweigh
any extra speed I'd gain.

She's learning she has value,
that she is capable and good,
that her input is worthwhile,
and that I believed she could.
Eventually when older,
she'll do it by herself
exactly as I taught her.
Then I'll do something else.

by:  Paula D. Nevison

Thursday, July 30, 2015

Strong Storming Gracious Girls

(Granddaughter and her Mom)
She is a hurricane,
if a hurricane was a good thing,
90 miles per hour
until the calm of her short nap,
then 90 again
until her day ends.
Joy embodied,
imaginative and creative,
a blustery boisterous bountiful energy
exploding everywhere she bounds.

Her mother, a pleasant breeze (busy living,
working, playing, doing, never still),
until unfairness interrupts.
Then she is a tornado,
a supercell's whirlwind of
focused fierce avenging fury,
until the solution is found.
Get out of her way,
or be knocked down.
As abruptly as she started,
abates the gale.
The clouds are parted,
pleasant breeze prevails.

by:  Paula D. Nevison

Friday, July 24, 2015

Another Excuse to Knit

My friends are having babies.
More blankets I will knit.
One is pregnant with a girl,
the other is a secret.

Two girl blankets, and one boy,
are waiting in my basket to be knit
(for knitting is my spare-time joy).
I have a favorite pattern that's befit.

Two babies and three blankets,
the math is no mistake.
Two I'll give away,
the other one, donate.

by:  Paula D. Nevison

Wednesday, July 22, 2015

Teaching Toddlers Fundamental Lessons with Laundry

A load of black laundry.
Let's play a game.
Match the socks.
They are all black,
and they are all socks, but
Opa's, and Uncle Joey's, and Aunt Lily's
are not the same,
a complicated game.
A four year old can do it,
can help, and be included,
enjoy a sense of accomplishment,
be proud of her productivity.
A menial task to me
is fun for a little one.
While I quickly fold the big clothes,
she is heartily matching socks
(sorting and classifying objects),
noticing how items are alike and different,
creating an awareness
vital for her future learning.

by:  Paula D. Nevison

Thursday, July 16, 2015

Forever yours. Forever young.

Hold me close.
Kiss my mouth.
Trigger endorphins.
Level my hormones.
Fill me with your fountain of youth.

Every morning
and every night,
keep me young.

You are my drug of choice
to keep me sane,
trigger endorphins,
and level my hormones.
Fill me with your fountain of youth.

Be my old man.
I'll be your woman.
Keep me young. 

by:  Paula D. Nevison

Wednesday, July 15, 2015

Am I There Yet?

When will I get old?
When will I go from looking younger than I am
to looking my age?
How will I know?
Will I look in the mirror one morning and see
the extra wrinkle that screams old lady?
Menopause, is that the key?
Is there a number that I'm waiting for?
Is it knocking on my door?
Have I passed it and ignored?
How will I know when I am old?

by:  Paula D. Nevison

Tuesday, July 14, 2015

Bananas for bananas

My granddaughter loves bananas. I buy them,
but they keep getting black before we eat them.
Then I throw them away and have no bananas
when my granddaughter comes over.

I have found
that if I slice the bananas
and freeze them spread out on waxed paper on a plate
that they taste like little bites of ice cream.

Then I have bananas available for when my granddaughter wants them.

Tuesday, July 7, 2015

New Free Knitted Cabled Hat Pattern

Those of us who knit hats, do it because we love to knit, and because we love the person we are knitting for. Hand knitting takes time, time that could be spent doing many other things. Sometimes the yarn costs more than buying an already knit hat from the store. So hand knitting a hat or garment is not necessarily cheaper than buying one. It is an act of love.

Sunday, July 5, 2015

Children are Always Learning

“Left foot, left shoe.
Right foot, right shoe.”
Getting ready for a walk with my granddaughter.

Saturday, July 4, 2015

Celebrating Independence Day

Six skittish, big, brave,
barking dogs display disdain
for fireworks popping.

by:  Paula D. Nevison

Friday, July 3, 2015

Mother, wife, friend; teach, love, knit.

cleaning toilets.
Lunch date with husband and granddaughter.
Teaching/tracing ABCs,
reading stories, and
the fork goes on the left.
Knitting a Christmas stocking and a hat.

Saturday, April 11, 2015

I went for a walk,
and it started raining.
I came home soaking wet.
I changed my clothes
and the first thing my dog did
was adorn me with a muddy footprint.
I had nowhere to go
and nothing to do
so it didn't really matter.
I picked up my knitting
and dropped a stitch.
It fell, twelve rows to ladder.
I set it aside
to fix it later.
Will do some laundry instead.
I stubbed my toe
going in the garage
and on the low hanging shelf, bumped my head.
I'll load the dishwasher
while I wait for the clothes.
A wet dish slips out of my hand.
It frisbees across the room
and knocks my tea cup down as it crash lands.
The last of my breakfast tea
is now on the floor with shards of pottery.
I cut my finger while cleaning it up,
and this, my last band-aid, won't stick.
The lesson I've learned from all of this
is don't get up early to walk.
It causes muddy footprints,
stubbed toes, and bumped heads.
If I had stayed in bed
I could be sipping tea instead
of holding my throbbing finger above my head.

by:  Paula D. Nevison

Tuesday, April 7, 2015

Today, I smiled,
not on purpose.
My husband saw.
It made him happy.

Saturday, March 14, 2015

Saturday, February 28, 2015

Untamable Heart

Who can tame a woman's heart?
Not even she who owns it.
The Fates may see that love will be,
but nobody controls it.

Pegasus to Hercules,
her emotions to her heart,
will fly or walk where her heart please,
direction abstract art.

Heart memories are feelings,
not facts, or dates, or details.
Bad builds stiff, thick wall linings,
but with good her hope prevails.

Tucked away, held close inside,
a woman's heart is wild,
guarded, open, ardent, sure,
and still it does beguile.

by:  Paula D. Nevison

Saturday, February 21, 2015

Chocolate Valentine's Cookies

These are the cookies I made on Valentine's Day while my husband worked his weekly 12 hour shift. I frosted them with store bought Hershey's Dark Chocolate frosting and used pink decorator icing to write on them. My teenage daughter was in an anti-valentine mood this year so I wrote some special for her, "Ugh, Never, Go Away, No, Get Real."
This is a Pioneer Woman recipe and can be found here.
I also made cupcakes from this my favorite chocolate cake recipe. I didn't frost them because this recipe is moist and yummy enough to eat without frosting. I didn't photograph them because they just look like chocolate cupcakes.

Today was the chocolate festival. I went with my daughter. We bought too much chocolate, but had fun.
The "White Trash" on the left (basically Puppy Chow renamed) was being sold by a black woman. My daughter was slightly insulted when she asked her if she would like to try some White Trash. It tasted good though, so we bought some. I think her favorite of what we bought is the green block of Key Lime fudge made by Bloomin' Lollipops. The most unusual thing we bought was the chocolate covered bacon made by Mrs. Wheat's Treats. I don't know how she managed to cook the bacon crisp without burning it. And somehow it stayed crisp even though it was covered in chocolate.