As an acquaintance lay in a coma, I wondered "Why her and not me?" That question led to the others in the below poem dedicated to Portia Rey.

Why do dark moods make light of the sun?
Why do flowers wilt as weeds flourish?
Why do gamblers lose what’s just been won?
Why do the hungry go unnourished?

Only heaven knows why.

Why let the frail fade and the fit thrive?
Why let the poor beg as the rich hoard?
Why let the truth bend, a lie contrived?
Why let the homeless remain ignored?

Only heaven knows why.

Why do lightweights float, the heavy sink?
Why do the lame walk, a cane in need?
Why do fools act smart before they think?
Why do the desperate fail to succeed?

Only heaven knows why.

Why do winners grin and losers frown?
Why do lovers hate the flaw withstood?
Why do brave men stand, cowards lie down?
Why does bad still happen to the good?

Only heaven knows why.

                  © 2014 by Rose Marie Boyd

We went to set up our Christmas Tree this year but forgot we had thrown out the tree and the lights when we did some remodeling. So I improvised.

No Lights on My Tree

Makes no difference to me,
One more Christmas wrinkle.
If it brightens my room
Who cares if it twinkles.

© 2014 Photo and Poem by Rose Marie Boyd

Below is a sampling of the haiku I've written as Chapter Headings for the fiction I'm writing:

***My novel-in-progress about a menopausal Italian American 
who spies on her troubled neighbors***

Despondent drifters
Pause on the reefs of regret
To await high tide.

As the meekest dream,
The moon invites the boldest
To survey the night.

Lured by the slick pitch,
A bluff canting brisk returns,
Greed assumes all risk.

Dying of boredom…
Sickened by monotony…
Desperate for a cure.

Brooding is feeble.
Though it longs for the wishbone,
It tugs with no spine.

Never a sure bet,
Luck presents tempting long shots
But no guarantees.

Walking on eggshells
Puts sensitive soles at risk
For irritation.

Once germinated,
Intrusive weeds grow thirsty
And quite tenacious.

As a cover-up,
the fabric of pride stretches,
but only so far.

To provide rescue,
 A magnanimous gesture
 With modest rewards.

Even bad apples
Contain dark seeds predestined
To grow in like form.

A sensitive cow
resents the callow butcher
manhandling her flesh.

Strict deprivation:
the ultimate pathway to

Though trouble smolders,
sparks of dread ignite to stoke
burning addictions.