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