Haiku No. 452: Never-Ending


Drifting on the sea
The gentle swells rock our souls
Meld us together

Distant horizons
Free our hearts to trust the flow
Never-ending love


By Deborah E. Dayen

Picture taken by me.


Poem Reblog: Digging in the Dark


diggin in the dark

Digging in the dark
Looking for something I lost
In the dusk
Of a hazy evening,
Or maybe it was the dawn.

I can’t remember when.
I’m not sure where.
It’s buried though.
Deep, I fear.

I haven’t missed it
Then the day will go down.
It will roll up backwards
Hang me upside down
And I’ll be looking in the dark.

The size, the shape, the color
Escape me now.
I only remember the feel
In the dark.

The gentleness, the wholeness.
The way I knew who I was….
When I had my heart.

So, I dig, in the dark.
The hours between dusk and dawn.
When feeling is easiest
because blindness is natural then.


By Deborah E. Dayen

Picture from Google Images


Note:  I first posted this poem in May of 2016.  I just decided to repost it, because it was one of my old favorites.  



The sadness found me
As I tried to walk away
It called my name out loudly
I tried hard to stay at bay

But it chased me down and caught me
It sat me in the chair
Sadness tried to make me understand
What I was doing there.

Though my head was aching
My heart ached even more
Broken pieces of you and I
Were laying on the floor.

Now my work was before me
The task at hand was clear
I had to put them back together
I admit I had some fear

Fear I couldn’t do it,
As I picked each piece in turn
I welded them with tears
Wondering if I’d ever learn

When I’d picked up all the pieces
Put them back the way they’d been
I wasn’t sure it looked the same
As it had before my sin

Some think that it might be better
Than what was there before
Like the art of kintsukuroi
Is the value even more?

Time will tell if holds together
I hope I didn’t break the mold
Sadness told me it’s all I can do
Tell me, Will tears mend as well as gold?


By Deborah E. Dayen


Hands that are warm
Hands that are strong
Hands that hold me
The whole night long.

Hands that touch sweetly
Hands that can feel
Hands that are searching
Hands that know what is real

Hands that lift up
Hands that gently let go
Hands that are tender
Mercifully so.

Hands that caress
Hands that hold tight
Hands always loving
In the pale moonlight

Hands of a woman
Hands of a man
We’ll hold them together
For as long as we can.


By Deborah E. Dayen

Home-Grown Tomatoes! In January!

When I moved to Florida, one thing I expected was that fresh produce would be cheaper, especially in the winter because that’s really the growing season down here. First of all, let me say it is not cheaper. But what amazes me even more is how tasteless the tomatoes are that grow here.

Up north, in August and into September, when you stop at a produce stand and get farm-fresh tomatoes they are stunningly good. Big and red and juicy and so flavorful. Down here….big, maybe. Red? Not deep fire-engine, flaming red, but kind of a slightly rusty red. And flavor? No. They are basically flavorless.

So, some weeks ago, maybe 6 or 8, one of Dan’s neighbors gave him a couple of tomato plants, each about 6” tall. He told us they were heirloom tomatoes. Dan planted them in one of his grow boxes, in a sunny spot, and has been tending them faithfully. They are now about 3 ft. tall. He had to buy supports for them, and they seem to be standing up straighter. They also have not succumbed to cooler nights, as has the basil we just replanted. They have been getting flowers for about a month, but as usual with a young plant, the flowers fell off.

Yesterday, we returned to his house after being at mine for a few days. The last 4 or 5 days have been gorgeous Florida weather, with highs in the low 70’s, bright sun, low humidity….all the reasons you want to be here in the winter. (It is going to be cooler for the next couple of days, highs only in the low 60’s, overnight lows in the low 50’s.) But I digress. When we got back, we had three tiny tomatoes on the plant!

We are so excited! The prospect of 3 home-grown, heirloom tomatoes! So here’s hoping they make it to adulthood. Or whatever you call them when they are mature and ripe and ready to eat!! Oh, I guess you call them mature and ripe.

Whatever. I’ve never been a gardener, though I have usually had a pot of a few herbs outside my kitchen because I like to use them in cooking. You know, Simon and Garfunkel herbs: parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme. Oh and basil. Basil for caprese. In my old life with my ex, I had no sunny spot to have a garden. When I finally had my own house with a great sunny southern exposure, I didn’t have the back or knees needed to tend one. But these grow boxes are wonderful. They can be placed as high as you need them to tend them without breaking your back or knees. And you can fill the bottom with water, and go away for a few days, even in the hot weather, and they won’t dry out.

Please send all good vibes to our tomatoes! We can use all the help we can get. After all, the universe says it’s all about intention and attention. Dan’s giving the plants the attention. I am giving them intention. We’ll see, but it’s looking good so far.

Love and light to all!


Pics taken by me.