CRY ERTIA, a poem

          Ertia

          my new word

          my new cry

          to stir me   

          from my easy chair

          I often sat

          in the tight grip

          of my inertia

          unable to stir

          from my easy chair

          Like a comic book hero

          I needed a magic word

          to shout aloud

          to propel me

          from my easy chair

          Ertia

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THE POISED WOMAN, a poem

          She was poised and thoughtful

          was she thinking of me?

          Were her thoughts to be free?

          Woman of mystery

          The connubial bond

          held our lives together

          in fun and excitement

          even stormy weather

          Yet a free-thinking mind

          can break any tether.

          The weight of her fealty

          was light as a feather

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