I went to the water to find peace–

somewhere in the waves,

where the sun fades and the noise becomes hollow.


I went to the water to find resilience–

like the aqua liquidity bending and shaping

to whatever it encounters.


I went to the water to find a sense of permanence–

like the lasting effect of years upon years of continuous movement,

that leaves its mark on all it touches.


I went to the water to find something, anything–

grasping for something concrete to hold onto

or finally letting go forever.


I went to the water to find comfort—

but in between the droplets, I found myself.



Edge of the Universe


He walked me to the edge of the world –

he said he wanted to show me the light.

But all I saw was black…

An all-encompassing void.

“Just wait,” he said…

“It’s coming. Be patient.”

Shuffling my feet, I sighed….

all I do is wait for the light.

“I promise. I’m going to show you the light.”

And just like that a glorious streak went across the dark–

illuminating all in its path.

Shimmering iridescence that blinded my eyes.

“See, I told you, ” he whispered.

“It’s all there. You just have to open your eyes and look.”



Je T’aime



There’s been one place in my life that somehow felt like home from the minute my feet touched the ground. That city is Paris, France. Since my first trip there as a teenager, the city has seeped into my veins and into who I am. Its pulse is my pulse. I can’t explain the connection I have with Paris. It doesn’t really make sense, but I keep getting drawn there. And every trip there just solidifies my love.

When I heard what happened on Friday, my heart broke. I mourn every time some senseless killing takes place anywhere in the world, but this one hit close to home for me. So, I wrote.

Je t’aime, Paris.

Bateaux Mouche

The lights dance on the water creating a tapestry of luminescence

Causing the heart to skip a beat.

Standing above everything else, sparkling with a billion diamonds

The glorious beacon watches over the city–

The streets of the city I love run red with the marks of evil

Creating a rift in the beauty of the city of light.

But, among the chaos and darkness she stands as a symbol of good

Telling her people that nothing will permanently dim her lights.

I cry tears of anger, tears of rage, tears of fear.

He looks at me with childlike wonder gleaming in the blue depths

And smiles.

And I remember that true light, true beauty, true good can never be contained.

Nothing can dim the radiance — light will always win.

Love will always win.



Locked in a cage of my own making

with iron bars forged by fear, doubt, pain, and tears.

I hold the key to open the padlocked door

but every day the lock changes shape.

Just when I think the key fits and freedom is mine

a dark shrouded locksmith comes along.

He changes the lock and laughs at me

mocking my helplessness, taunting me in the darkness,

Throwing me crumbs of fleeting happiness,

making me believe I deserve the sweet tastes.

He takes every ounce of humanity from my being

and I am left empty once again.

I am my own captor.



Another original poem for today’s poem of the day. A bit unusual. Not quite sure if it’s done. But, I like it.




Allison Cline-Saia

I believe they are called “coyotes”

those smugglers that go over the border to bring people into America.

I wonder if I could hire one?

someone to sneak across my borders.

searching for pieces of me left behind–

broken bits and jagged edge slivers—

hidden for years under miles of dust, debris, and baggage.

bringing them back to me to recreate myself

into some collage, some abstract mosaic of broken glass…

rearranging them into some Pollock-like masterpiece

that when you turn it in just such a way…

it bears resemblance to a human being.

Blue Bells


Today’s poem of the day was written for my mother, who has dementia. Being a caregiver for your mom is a difficult thing. You go from having a parent to being a parent. It’s a tough transition. Every day brings some new challenge.

Blue Bells


Allison Cline-Saia


She stares out the window and looks at the flowers that she’s been tending for years

Blue bells and roses

Their heads are bowed from the heat of the midday sun.

“I really should cut those flowers back.”

Every day she says the same thing.

She does the same thing.

She looks the same, but something’s amiss in her mind.

Bits and pieces falling away.  Memories fading.

She is like those flowers bowing their heads ..

Shadows of beauty in the twilight.

Thirsting for cooling rain and clarity.