instagram pinterest linkedin facebook twitter goodreads facebook circle twitter circle linkedin circle instagram circle goodreads circle pinterest circle


From Eve to goddess

          to Jezebel,

the power of the feminine casts a spell.


Men find her irresistible,

          but are ambivalent

about their human counterpart and complement.


She stands for justice, wisdom,

      peace and liberty.

Yet in the vainglorious conceit

           of masculinity,

        is universally deprived

           of her autonomy

        and subjected to

      merciless misogyny.


How long can human society survive

          without the love

         and civilizing force

of feminine energy

          to keep it on its course.


For as the sacred portal

          through which life

        and consciousness emerge

she is co-equal creator,

          an earthly demiurge.


Enigma — as an ode

          to the eternal feminine principle —

pays homage to this vital cosmic role,

in whatever form it may abide.


To dignify her grace and beauty,

          turns her inside out

to reveal the inner contours of her soul.


Rose Mary Glass 2011


Against the canvas of night

           She leaped so high

She cleared the moon

           in a single try

That magic moment

transformed her somehow

. . . this docile,

taken-for-granted cow,

She escaped the power

          of gravity’s pull

when curiosity and imagination

          overcame the bull.


          Rose Mary Glass 1994

On Being HUMAN


Oh, what a joy to be a tree

and always know what you will be

Or to be born a dog, or cat,

But to be human, what is that?


Examples run the gamut---

saints to sinners, without limit

No amount of contemplation

explains the maddening variation


It's nature's most elusive mystery…

Who am I and what are we?

We've searched for answers through the ages

Looked to gurus, preachers, sages.


The time has come to stop and look

not to teachers, not in a book,

but into our own hearts–now that's the trick–

to become aware of what makes us tick.





Drooping heads of fading blossoms,

wilting plants, dried up stalks

replacing summer's verdant foliage

increase the sense of something lost.


As Autumn beauty tinged with the colors

of falling leaves and ripening harvest

signals its readiness to be reaped and plucked,

a chill in the air forewarns of coming frost


Squirrels scurry, chipmunks pack their pouches

all life prepares for winter's recurring return,

scrolling through the seasons

flipping the pages on the calendar of time.


In this season, a lesson in the art of letting go,

energy all but spent, ripe and past my prime,

I sigh and feel a touch of joyful sadness

a foreshadowing of the cold, dark, silence . . .

                                 guaranteed to come.


                          RMG - September 11, 2019


When the President told us

we couldn't believe our lying eyes,

I begged to differ until I realized

that the mist emanating from

Foggy Bottom and the White House

was distorting our vision and perceptions.


Despite the clouds, despair gives way to relief

that we will see clearly once again

when the clouds lift and our eyes adjust

to light and a new Commander-in-Chief.

Once obstacles to 20/20 vision vanish,

We'll begin to believe our eyes again . . . and trust.