Sunday, November 24, 2013


 Gatherings by Teri H Hoover ©

What virtue is found  
in the gathering?
A lone leaf clings 
without regard.
Bitterness illuminates the truth.

The wind scatters 
A collection of hearts.
Undoing and uprooting.   
Creating an impassable gap 
and fragments of choice.

Muffled habits 
Lessen the cycle of suffering.
However, the lone leaf will tire of clinging
and join in the falling.
Resting in the knowing.

Gathering once more.

This weeks words from the Sunday Whirl--habits, create, however, virtue, regard, gap,
cycle, undoing, lessen, choice, gathering, suffering

Sunday, October 13, 2013

The Curve of Sleepy Circles

Sleepy circles.
wobble on the edge.
Shards of light trumps the void.

Drunkards born
into this cosmos,
where prophets whisper into thunder,
and are dismissed.

The world mends the breach with the compassion 
of unwavering truth. 
Each breath born,
to bind us to the last.

The words from the Sunday Whirl- edge, trumps, drunkard, world, mends, bind prophet, born, expected, circles, sleepy, thunder

Saturday, September 21, 2013

Three Memories Constricted

interwoven stories flounder on separate shores.
A rash of clues become entangled, while fables bloom like algae.

with claws, surface and roll,
crashing and smashing the naive and sincere.

into airless plastic bags, the exiled memories curdle.
The facade of certitude covered with crustaceans.

Into a pile of debris.
Peering out with shaded eyes, 
Good Samaritans stand on the shoreline.

The beleaguered,
yet undefeated spirits will cradle a secret all the way to the grave.
Leaving a wake of disbelief.

This weeks words for the Sunday Whirl- claws, peering, spirits, stories, apples, secret,cradle, pile, clues, exile, three, rash

Tuesday, September 10, 2013

Seeing You in the Distance

For Walt – a voice I have know all my life

Seeing You in the Distance
By Teri H Hoover ©

Aging vehicle
pressing north.
I-79 flattens the hills into swells.
Careening into the haze of late summer,
and then abruptly east
onto the I-90.

Just there on the horizon, unafraid.
Deep blue rising
above the edge of the earth.
Poised for spilling itself in all directions.
But it doesn't.

A poem for poet Walt Wojtanik . Walt has just recently stepped down from his post at the blog PoeticBloomings and I was compelled to mark this transition with a poem.

When I first read his poems his “voice” sounded familiar to me. When I realized he was from Western NY, (near Lake Erie, where I grew up) it just seemed to fit. When I drive back to Buffalo from Virginia, one of the first sights that says, I am almost there, is the sight of Lake Erie resting on the horizon.

Saturday, September 07, 2013

The Well Used Heart

One small brush with a stranger, at the magic edge of idleness.
One little push at the top of the curve; there's no turning back.

Traveling the avenue of thought only to lose my answer.
Stains of intrigue stamped upon my passport.
Approaching the borders without dimension. 
Where is my country?
Only a heart full of emptiness can return home.

Shepherd's Farm Catawba Valley VA- 2012

This weeks words: pay, stains, center, bell, dimension, intrigue,magic, only, used, avenue, answer, change

Friday, August 02, 2013

Curves Revised

August 2, 2013
Curves Revised/ Locating Myself

ragged curves

what is

 then releasing

what has been

 then relinquishing

what will be 

Tuesday, July 02, 2013

I Am Between

July 2, 2013
I Am Between By Teri H Hoover 

In this garden 
I will find peace
between each landslide 

Sunday, June 02, 2013

Between Hearts

We train the losses, to stay
safe inside the childhood vaults.

The pattern of undetected escapes-
Faux nimble hearts fumble free. 

Carving into curves so gently.
A hand brushes my throat.
Wind through prairie grass, caressing each blade.

The fringes of rapture
Swirl upon each limb.

Blessed forgetting.

The Sunday Whirl : vault, halls, swirl, crave, throat, wind,limbs, nimble, prairie, rapture, train, each

Friday, May 31, 2013

Winding into Green

May 30,  2013  - a small Stone 
Winding into Green   Teri H Hoover

The wind dances into the curve in trail.
 Carry away this heart.

 Huckleberry Trail, Blacksburg, VA- May 31, 2013


May 30,  2013  - a small Stone 
Entitlement   by  Teri H Hoover

Stiff  legged and self assured
the crow walks across the freshly cut grass.
A landlord surveying his property. 

Monday, May 27, 2013

Visitng Eden By Jules Paige

From a wise and wonderful poetess friend.
Sweet as sunlight in the garden. Thank you Jules-

Visiting Eden By Jules Paige 
For Teri Hoover

In the garden was a stone bowl. Only ever filled with rainwater. The rocks -
they changed with mood swings. Reflecting the stars glow gently rippling
in autumn breezes. The stark grey of winter that threatened to take up
permanent residence in her heart. The robin’s egg blue sky of spring... and
in summer the amber stone embraced the sun’s warmth.

The ritual was private - shared only with the flora and fauna in all weather -
while not looking at her own mirrored face, fearing disconnect with the image -
she would change the placement of the stones.  Ever hopeful to keep rising.  

 Find some of her writing here: 

Sunday, May 26, 2013


Sunday Whirl #110- May  26, 2013
Rise by Teri H  Hoover
Finding love close
within fertile layers.
I anchor my heart 
to the curves of the current. 
Free to shift and yield
the range of this phrase riding a beam of light.

Long months of ripping away.
Lofting tatters connect and rise,

Sunday Whirl Words-beam, anchor, shift, close, heart, phrase,range, connect, current, fertile, layers, yield

From the stifling darkness
The colorful blooms
to breathe in the light

 For the Poetics Bloomings-Get it Together prompt 

Sunday, April 28, 2013


In this rain drenched realm,
a thin oath,
transparent and harrowing
bringing worms and grubs 
to the surface.
Borrow or steal 
the guess that brings a change.
Either I  stifle the marrow
or march into the buried heart 
and rip it free.

I saw the new day waiting.

This weeks words: either, harrowing, marrow, grubs,  thin, oath,
saw, guess, rare, march, borrow, transparent

Thursday, April 25, 2013


WE WRITE POEMS prompt -153-changing-the-impossible

If birds could swim and fish could fly
Words would flow like tears I cry.

Winter scars behind this heart
My leaves unfurl with springs fresh start.

Sunday, March 31, 2013

the shepherd calls

the wandering lost
could see the pit,
peaks of the moon-unreachable,
written into flowers, with drooping petals 
soaked but unable to drink,
the wandering lost
could hear the calls.
they became emotions shaken loose behind the locks
written into stones,
herded by the shepherds staff.

fenced in fields of safety.
boundaries to comfort, food to feed,
safety in stillness. 
wanting no longer. filled the lost.
after the rising
no more grasping to be held.
Released to embracing.

The words for this weeks wordle are:  peak, powders, lost, calls, locks, pit,moon, staff, stone, after, written, petals 

Sunday, March 24, 2013


Settled into clay and sand.
Fallen and forgotten.
Across four hundred years of yesterdays.
Stirred and wound into the unmoving firmness.
Now boldly hushing leaves,
Stirred without hurry.
A jar filled with lavender husks,
Sweetness disguised in the longing.

Even the mighty oak tree disguises itself as an acorn for awhile. 
This is my country of waiting.

this weeks words over at Brenda's are:disguised, forgotten, country, hurry, tree, wound,
mind, sand, stirred, jar, across, yesterday

Sunday, March 17, 2013

against the curve

Above the door of the train,unseen destinations 

mapped out like sturdy veins under graffiti tattoos.
Emotionless conductor, the master of balance,
utters the names of places blurring into focus.
His words, for a moment firmly march,
then stretch out in futility -falling between- metal upon metal.
Against the curve, straining, the words jiggle free
become faint and vanish.    
Like change that rolls out of sight under boots and heels.
Settling hidden, in a greasy dark corner.

The 100th Sunday Whirl- Congratulations Brenda! The words this week are:                     master, street, change, share, train, die, calls, stretch, march, words, places, create, faint

Sunday, March 10, 2013


Dispatching in sprees;
a temper tantrum of  snow squalls.

The visitor awakes, to March
dispatching in sprees
a temper tantrum of snow squalls.

Fearsome outsider. Torn from comfort.
Immersed in a unbending body of faded paint,
with mute and colorless skies.

A quota of snow,
lingering in the reserves of winter
falls outside the window.

Reluctantly, I add my part.
This heart is frightened.
These written words
too intimate to share.
The offering of brightness
Suffocates in the cold and airless room.
I reach to steady my heart-  
In the driveway,
outside the window
my Sunday escape waits.
Road salt covers the black paint.

Sunday Wordle #99- March 10, 2013 words:
paint, use, sprees, outsider, away, fearsome, part,reserves, body, intimate, written, window

Wednesday, March 06, 2013

Echoes Of Laura's Observation

Inspired by Laura Hegfield's Post Surround Sound

Echoes of Laura's Observation 

by Teri H Hoover

my breath on the back of my throat. 

the bay window vibrates
with the song of the heat pump.

warm air from the heating vent,under the table
a piece of my hair and tickling my cheek.

the recliner squeak in the other room 
as my dog gets more comfortable.
something a friend said.

Sunday, March 03, 2013

awaiting the answer

not what anyone deserves. 

within the first moment of unbalance,
the snare of gasps,
neglects the breath.
nearly blue, she will ride the wings 
of others prayers.
a dust trail of broken green chords,
heaven slaps with blessed instant grace- unfelt.
a sharp inhale skids along the surface

A first wordle since, gasp, November.  The Sunday Whirl- The words: blue, blessed, deserves, first, gasps, instant,
slap, snare, dust, unbalance, ride, wings

Saturday, March 02, 2013


Later by Teri H Hoover
(for my nephew who just found  his wallet, checkbook and father this week..He found his father on facebook.) 

Nearly 20 years
between his wallet and his check book
He found his father

He found his father 
between his wallet and his check book
Nearly twenty years 

a hole is left by what is lost 
finding is more empty 

finding is more empty
a hole is left by what is lost 

who you are will not unfray
once that day comes

once that day comes
who you are will not unfray

still the echoes

still the echoes


Wednesday, February 20, 2013

Lunch with Friends

February 20,  2013  - a small Stone 
Lunch with friends  by  Teri H Hoover

Hollows filled 
with the color of laughter.
Curving into a smile.

Saturday, February 02, 2013


February 2,  2013  - a small Stone 
Winter  by  Teri H Hoover

A gray sky silently scattering itself,
transforming the world
one snowflake at a time.

Thursday, January 31, 2013


January 31, 2013  - a small Stone 
Mistaken  by  Teri H Hoover

A light in the night 
comes through my window
just where Nathaniel's light should be.

"Why is my next door neighbors 14 year old son be up at 3 AM?" 

"Oh, it's the moon." 


Friday, January 25, 2013


January 25, 2013  - a small Stone 
Snow by  Teri H Hoover

A hush 
of silent transformation.
Gently kissing each transgression 
with pure white forgiveness.  


Saturday, January 19, 2013


January 19, 2013  - a small Stone 
January  by  Teri H Hoover


A January death between them,
fearless lilac buds bask in the sun
under a blanket of blue skies and snow.

 Backyard Garden, Blacksburg, VA- January 18, 2013

Friday, January 18, 2013


January 18, 2013  - a small Stone 
Reflections by  Teri H Hoover

Cut loose 
a rock floats among the clouds,

 Hahn Horticulture Garden, Virginia Tech, Blacksburg, VA-January 7, 2013

Wednesday, January 16, 2013

A View from the Edge

January 16, 2013  - a small Stone 
A View from the Edge by  Teri H Hoover

People approaching.
Sorrel  pine  needles
creep  onto  the  trail
to get a  better  view.

Huckleberry Trail, Blacksburg, VA January 16, 2013

Tuesday, January 15, 2013

It's Just Rain

January 15, 2013  - a small Stone 
 It's Just Rain by  Teri H Hoover

It is cold and wet outside
My umbrella is spewing rivulets of water.
Sniffing on ahead of me, my drenched dog does not care.  

 Huckleberry Trail, Blacksurg, VA- January 15, 2013

Sunday, January 13, 2013

Silver Unbinding

January 13, 2013  - a small Stone and a early Sunday Whirl
Silver Unbinding  by  Teri H Hoover

Every room in the palace was empty save for one.
Poetry lived in the silver room with heavy curtains,
and waited for the quiet tap on the door.
The glass bookshelves did not mind the burden.

Visitors found their way
in through the hidden gate,
in the garden,
through hidden halls,
To tap on the turquoise door.

Inside silver circled without stopping.
A sliver of light slipped in like a knife.
Allowing hope and fear.

Virtue slept on the couch and snored softly.
A drunk too tired to wish,
curled up in the corner and waited for few kind words.

Far from all the breaking chaos of the edge,
diminishing connection curved and wedged.
Freedom to bend made one think more fondly of the all that is straight.

In the garden a little ditch carried away yesterdays rain.

The words from the Sunday Whirl: lburden, bends, drunk, poetry, virtue, palace,
ditch, diminishing, wish, breaks, room, steps

Friday, January 11, 2013

Glad I am not the Secretary

January 11, 2013  - a small Stone 
Glad I am not the Secretary by  Teri H Hoover

The luncheon meeting went in 
the topic 
like a tea leaf circling the drain.

Thursday, January 10, 2013

Stray Thoughts

January 10, 2013  - a small Stone 
Stray Thoughts   by  Teri H Hoover

Like all my faults
the empty bike trail belongs to me. 
And my dog.

My dog only sees me 
and that I am a bit slow.

 Huckleberry Trail, Blacksburg, VA January 10, 2013

Wednesday, January 09, 2013

Last Months Windstorm

January 9, 2013  - a small Stone 
Last Months Windstorm  by  Teri H Hoover

Twigs and tree limbs 
Strewn like bad decisions.


Tuesday, January 08, 2013


January 8, 2013  - a small Stone 
Barriers  by  Teri H Hoover

Icy water stretched thin 
straining like plastic wrap over the little pond.

Backyard garden, Blacksburg, VA- January 8, 2013

Monday, January 07, 2013


January 7, 2013  - a small Stone 
Greetings  by  Teri H Hoover

My friend, Old Sycamore, wrinkled his nose
as I walked by.

We both smiled.

 Virginia Tech Drillfield, Blacksburg VA- January 2013