Scone variation 

I followed the same recipe except I added 1/2 cup more flour to compensate for the fruit. I added 1 cup of finely chopped rhubarb and 1 cup of chopped strawberries 🍓 and the zest of one halo tangerines and then I finished peeling it and chopped it up.  I baked them on 400 just like the original recipe but for 20 minutes because they were wetter than when I used the dried fruit and nuts.  I love how they’re tart and sweet.

ABC Momma


ABC Momma 
A cool momma always
becomes a child’s best
consistent companion
during difficult times
encouraging and supportive
A cool momma

finds ways to make
good and fun things
happen when needed most
invests herself without
juggling too much

A cool momma has

kisses and hugs in abundance
love shines like honey on a comb
multiplying over time and
nurtured just right
only to improve with time

A cool momma

propels us on a course
quintessentially perfect
regaling us with directions to
sail through life’s obstacles
taking strides confident
united universally on a mission

A cool momma is

vital to a child’s success
without ever losing sight
xenia rocks way
yelling joyfully
zealous always

A cool momma knows
she is blessed to have a child.©

ABC Acrostic
Dedicated to my children, I love you!

Babble Along Alone

Brooks and people babble

Artists and writers dabble

Dabble with hobbies

Dabble with life

Life satisfies

Life really hurts

Hurts so much

Hurts so little

Little pieces of me

Little pieces of you

You haunt me

You made me choose

Choose to stay

Choose to leave

Leave the way I came

Leave the bubbles

Bubbles floating

Bubbles bursting

Bursting in color

Bursting in rage

Rage filled with nonsense

Rage shutting down

Down so sad

Down underneath the soil

Soil surrounding me

Soil crushing…no air

Air intoxicating

Air musty and heavy

Heavy with wetness

Heavy and chilled

Chilled to the bone

Chilled and alone

Alone gratefully

Alone babbling

Babbling alive

Alive ©


This is a form of looped poetry where the last word is the first of the next line. I took liberties with the first two lines.

Inner Child ©Lyn Crain


Snowflakes dominate this January day
A historic event challenges the city.
Mother Nature declares her way.

City officials install a ban.
Stay home, walk if you must but,
no cars except the emergency man.

Dapper snowmen appear in unusual places.
Children on sleds race down streets
where cars normally rule the spaces.

Elevated subways halt on snow covered track
The Wind blows at times so fierce,
the high water claims the land back.

The busy city now invites play
quite different than the norm
the white stuff is here to stay.

People explore the city with their feet
some even pause to converse with strangers
unlike the normal day with no time to greet.

Mother Nature and Father Time smile
the city that never rests
rediscovers the fun, it has been awhile.

Sometimes all it takes is a snowflake
to impose a change to our routines,
for our inner child to awake.

Featured Writer

Midnight Resolutions©Carolyn Lukas

Midnight approaches with dizzying speed
As find myself amidst a party of strangers
Drinking champagne
And trying not to get tipsy.
I look for a man worthy of my kiss.
Gone are the days when a knight in shining armor
Would ride in on his white horse
And sweep you off your feet.
Now I search the faces marred by time and experience
They mirror my own;
Which I have wrapped in resolutions
That can only grasp at the hope of becoming….
That healthier woman
Who has lost those stubborn 20 pounds.
That adventurous woman
Who has shaken off the chains of fear and anxiety
And found happiness in her heart’s desires.
That beautiful woman
Who has escaped the ravages of time
And seems to shine with an inner light.
It all seems so out of reach…
But the New Year approaches with promise
And one must rise to the occasion
Letting hope and dreams dance
In the limelight of possibility.
Carolyn is a dear friend of mine on I enjoy reading her poetry, short stories and her blog entries. This poem won a recent contest on WDC.





Cemetery in Her Mind

She has a vision of a cemetery in her mind
with his name boldly etched on the stone,
cause of death happily undefined.

Her survival, her life will sadly depend
on her keeping out of his way.
Heaven forbid, she might offend.

She has a vision of a cemetery in her mind
with his name boldly etched on the stone.
She focuses on his departure from humankind.

She’s tried to concede more than once
only to be brutalized by his rage.
She can’t continue with the pretense.

She has a vision of a cemetery in her mind
with his name boldly etched on the stone,
cause of death happily undefined.

She feels bad, wanting his death is unkind,
love and hate are very powerful emotions.
She has a vision of a cemetery in her mind,
cause of death happily undefined.


Imperfect Existence © Lyn Crain


Imperfectly Perfect

People Saw It at The Time

Mismatched Yet Perfectly Paired



Horrific Brutality

Up-close and Unsettled

Inspired by What Lies Beneath


Seduced and Betrayed

In a Galaxy, Far Far Away

We See

Belief is Potent

Every Angle

 Mismatched Yet Perfectly Paired

We Understand

The World



For Better

Or Worse





Titles and Subtitles from New York Times — December 2nd and December 3rd, 2016. There are no added words in this found poetry. I did make minute changes by separating lines to make what was said more potent.

#NYTimes #Found Poetry

What’s The Use of Regret?©Lyn Crain

It’s scary out there!

Me, myself and I

seeking a new direction.

I hear the fragile songs

of my bewildered youth.

What am I afraid of?

The Myth…

His love of the past

Will it come find me?

The borders of insanity

are so close.

I’m a mere weak girl,

shuddering and shivering

in this sea of uncertainty.

He renders me fearful

in this complex nightmare.

Where the wild things flee,

seeking answers in the book

of alleged illumination.

I need a safe place to go mad

with my monumental memories

until they compose themselves.

I’m a fragile human being,

I don’t want to wage war

but I can’t continue

fighting the hard times in paradise.

I’m tired of paying for solidarity

I can’t keep confronting

his darkness when

there are the varieties of anger.

The pages’ turn

but the story is always the same

in her storied land.

Until the cats come back

and turn the tables.

Whatever happens

They’ll blame me


what language does love speak?


It stands alone,


black and dead.

It’s my last chance

to escape  this epic fail

What’s the use of regret?

Everything in Italics was taken from the New York Times headlines and subtitles. I moved them around until I created my poem.

Change ©Lyn Crain

Racing to Unlock

 an Alien Thought Process

Beauty Fearlessly Rendered

The Architecture of Survival

Monuments to Memory

Fearlessly Rendered

 in Its Complexity


Racing to Unlock

 an Alien Thought Process

Come and Find Me

The Fragile Songs

A Book of Illuminations


Find a Direction Home


Racing to Unlock

An Alien Thought Process

From the Theater of War

 to the Halftime Show

Counting The Unarmed,

Black and Dead

Waging…  Battle


Racing to Unlock

An Alien Thought Process

Against Me, Myself and I

The Architecture of Survival

Around Town

Keep Your Eye on the Road

And on the Driver as Well


Racing to Unlock

An Alien Thought Process

Last Chance



They Can’t Kill Us All

Turning The Tables



This poem is created from article titles in The New York Times Friday 11/11/ 2016 Edition of Weekend Arts. Every line is either the full title or pieces of it to make the poem flow. I haven’t added any words except the titles.



Death of Democracy©Lyn Crain

The Mistletoe Murder


Philosophers and

 Other Lovers

in what once

was a nation


A Gambler’s Anatomy

In this

City of Dreams

Where America Begins


Judge Not

The Whistler

The Man Who Chose

To Exile

Rogue Heroes

In the

March of the Lexicon



Words on the Move

Cruel Beautiful World

It’s no longer

Seriously Sweet

When Music Was Life and Death



Escape Clause


The Wrong Side of Good bye

in a Sleeping World


The Mortifications

Bless Me

 for I Will Sin


This is another found poetry piece from the New York Times Book Review. I take the book review and cut all the different review titles and the book titles out and place them on the table. I then move them around until I have a poem. I only add minimal words to help the flow. The titles are all in italics.

#New York Times