You cannot capture a dream until you reach for it.


by Karen E. Rigley

A blog by a nonblogger. People assume that blogging’s simple – a breeze for a writer. For me not so much.

Sure I can create characters who don’t really exist and toss them into situations to steal a reader’s breath. I can even create worlds. Stories are easy. Ask me to weave tales of adventure, suspense or romance. Words flow.

Confront me with a new blog post and I turn into a writer without words. Why can I write a spectrum of works, but suddenly go blank? Spinning a tale of mystery, science fiction or an article is not about me. Me is where I get stuck.

So I ramble about weather, recipes, whatever floats through the universe at the moment. What happens if nothing floats past? Then I’m in trouble. Like today.

Ah, but I do have words available when I mine my trove of old poetry. Guess what happens now? Yep, my poems to the rescue. 😉


Almost ninety
voice a-tremor
worn fingers
strum and pick
mountain music
ageless rhythm
song of hills
notes fade
forgotten verses
broken string
layer of dust
cannot hush
Every evening
on the front porch
songs and laughter
dance inside
Grandpa’s old



sit here
and stare at
my monitor.
Warnings flash onscreen
with electronic gleam,
laughing at my small mistake.
Blinking and ignoring commands,
it smugly digests files it ate.
Please, nice computer, give human a break?


 Imagine an eagle

circling the sky

zooming up

flying high

Soar above cliff

soar above mountain

a symbol of strength

a spiritual fountain

Born in a nest

hungry and weak

right from birth

determined to seek

promise of destiny

Rise to succeed

rise to fulfill

plan of the Almighty

Gliding toward heaven

the eagle soars

through the sky


my spirit since

even an eagle

must learn to fly



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