Trying to accept with grace and poise

Despite the racket of my mental noise

Friends are working long hours, they say

And wouldn’t they love to have my kind of day?

But I just turned down my last terping* request

Pain prevents me, I gave it my best

Can’t keep wallowing in what was “taken” from me

Can’t live in limbo as to what will be

Acceptance is daily

Neither welcomed nor easy

The past is over

The “now” is up to me

But f* the platitudes

I wail when I must

This too shall pass

Onwards or bust

(Terping – an affectionate, at least to me, slang word for being an American Sign Language interpreter. I was relatively kick-ass good at it for 11 years until 2 car accidents and 2 spinal surgeries knocked me out of the field for good. Have been trying to reinvent myself for the last 4 years. Do I feel left out when friends tell me how hard they are working and I wish I could? Sure. But I just have to keep the faith that good is on the way.

Daylight Savings Time

Daylight Savings Time

An hour was taken from me

I didn’t fill out a deposit slip

So where could it possibly be?

What is it saving

And where did it go?

Is it in a bank?

I want to know

I hope that hour is safe and warm

And when its vacation is done,

Compounded interest is what it brings

After “I’ll never tell”, road trip fun

An Ode to the HandPan

More info and pix coming soon as to what all this means. But here is my (drumroll please):


An instrument like none before

Appear, it shall, upon my door

Its frogs are lubed, ’twas sneezed upon

Don’t ask, the story is quite long

A handpan with a sound Divine

From Terratonz, will soon be mine

With boundless humor, energy

Kind Daniel demoed all for me

A daylong smile across my face

My life’s been touched with special grace

Brought into a new family

May music mine spread love and glee

Benevolent Beef

Help – I’ve started writing silly haikus and I can’t stop. The picture below shows 2 screamingly cute, cow, salt and pepper shakers, straight from Thailand. I was in that particular restaurant alone, not down in any way, but these little guys perked me right up. 

Behold, Bewitching

Beaming Binary Bovines

Blessing Blissfully

* Behold – look at

* Bewitching – charming

*Benevolent – expressing goodwill or kindly feelings

*(Binary) Bovine – (Double) Moo



Post Las Vegas business trip frenzy

(where I transported people and equipment amongst scattered venues teeming with people and equipment)

Post Honolulu frenzy

(where I could be snapped up in a heartbeat as an interpreter but the cost of living slammed on the brakes)

Post midnight massive immune response

(panic at the not so disco last night with a burning, swollen face – all alone – waiting for Auntie Histamine to do her thing)

Posting a new post

The whirlwind has calmed

Once again the magic dust of possibility sprinkles the air…

(not an “official” poem – more of an imagery sketch)


The Willfull Blind

(A poem in iambic tetrameter – dedicated to those above reproach)


The willfull blind refuse to see

They flail about with daggers sharp

Inflicting wounds unknown to them

Aggressive gouging victims’ hearts


No sooner do the injured cry

The blind deny, the truth they bend

“I could not harm, I’ve done no wrong

Weak ego now must I defend”


“If you are hurt and I’m the cause

I’ll not amend nor see your side

My righteous view must be upheld

Above all else, there is my pride”


“Oh sighted one, too sensitive

You misperceive, the fault is yours

You take to heart my wounding ways

The barbs I’ve lobbed, I will ignore”


“You crazy, stupid, foolish girl

This kinship we will not prolong

Rejoin the fold, apologize

We Willfull Blind are never wrong”


Copyright ©2013 Marianne Decher

Permission to copy and distribute poem if you credit the author. Otherwise, karma will bite you in the rumpus. Photo is in the public domain.




For Chris

Life never promised clean closures and tidy

like perfect Christmas bows – 


Grief is a fickle, unfathomable guest who

tip-toes away in the night

only to


set my feet,

like those of a wobbly fawn,

on the slickest of


Flailing, grasping –

the impending impact with sorrow wounds


Yet by its nature

remains unseen


by those around.

No wise words find their way to me now….

Rhythmic crunching of salt-sprinkled chips

overrule a sensible gym workout,

as I sit in silent solitude

listening intently for the indelible echoes of your

memorable laugh.

Time stands still in the daily


of the magnificent and the mundane

We miss you terribly, Chris –

and wonder when we truly first

lost you. 


Rest in Peace, Chris. You will always be in our hearts.

11/18/56 – 12/12/11