Porch of Dreams

Whereever you go my love

I shall be there waiting for you

With arms open and warm

Like the summmer sun.

I shall be the glow

That is upon your skin

Warm and inviting

I will take you in my love.

Exalted to the heights

Of our combined essence

That forms us into one enity!

Climb inside my body now my love.

Feel the eternal softness of our love

Carress us with the sweet air

That we breath of purple lilacs

In the springtime.

Where music feels our hearts

With soft melodies played

By songbirds euphony

Chirping in the trees.

As we swing on the porch

Of our dreams

Feel our hearts join into one

Endurable beat…

As we stare off towards the

Evening star together

There you will always find me

My Love

Inside your heart

Part of your soul

For wherever you go

My love I shall be there

Swinging evermore on the

Porch of our dreams

With arms open and

Warm like the summer.

(c) Eva Marie Cagley

Women’s History Month

In 1980 President Jimmy Carter declared the week of March 8th as National Women’s History week. 

The National Women’s Project. was Founded in 1985 by Molly Murphy MacGregor and Mary Ruthsdotter.  Maria Cuevas, Paula Hammett, and Bette Morga!

In March of 1987 congress officially declared March as Women’s National History Month…

Thus, changing it from a week to a month- long celebration. 

It focuses on observing and studying the important roles of women in the American History. 

The color, purple is internationally often used to symbolize women however there is no chosen color for Women’s History month.

2020 theme was women who fought for rights to vote. “Valiant Women of The Vote!”  It has been continued into 2021 because of COVID-19 and cancellations of celebrations.

There are more than 100 women recognized for Women’s history among these are:

These are just a few and not in any order…

  1. Kamala Harris—First female Vice President
  2. Hillary Clinton—First woman to run for political office
  3. Maya Angelou—Civil rights activist
  4. Anne Frank—Diary of an account of her World War 11 account
  5. Queen Elisabeth—Monarch of British History
  6. Catherine the Great—Ruthless Queen—Empress of Russian Empire
  7. Sojourner Truth—African American abolitionist and women’s rights activist
  8. Rosa Parks—Sparked Civil Rights movement in America
  9. Marie Curie—Developed portable x-ray machine.
  10. Ada Lovelace—Worlds first computer programmer
  11. Edith Cowan—first female member of parliament
  12. Amelia Earhart—-first woman to fly across the Atlantic
  13. Jane Austen —Literary influence
  14. Malala Yousafzai—Nobel Peace Prize
  15. Oprah Winfrey—Used her influence to inspire, educate and empower people.

It is important to recognize women for their contributions to history as at one time women didn’t have a voice and got little credit for their accomplishments.  Women’s rights have come a long way in the course of history but at a slow pace.   

There is much work yet to be done for women to continue to find their voice and place in American History.

There is an abundance of articles on National Women’s History Month on the internet for further information. 

© Eva Marie Cagley

Links to My other publications:



I Sit in my aging indigo tea pot

Brewing dry crackling with time

Scorched by years of trials

Body scars or land mind…

Keeping my heart young

Yet not an easy task

Flowering memories kept

In the metal of my flask.

My spout a bit rusted

From use throughout one’s life

My handle old and wrinkled

My perk stopped long ago in strife.

Waiting to be tossed aside

Where teapots graveyards are

Or perhaps to transform

Into a flowering teapot from afar.

Set upon a a redwood deck

Among Yellow Daffodils and rainbow-colored Moss Rose.

Where I can listen to the sweet music there

Of bird’s symphony chattered up in maple trees rows.

Filled with the richest soil

Planted deep within

Watered with miracle grow

I’m thriving lush green once again.

No longer does the junkyard seem my fate.

I am once again useful

And I have a new gait.

With pastel colors growing my world.

But alas, I was once just an aging teapot…

(c) Eva Marie Cagley

My published work:


The Poet


I am but an open journal
Still waiting for a discovery,
Empty pages within to drift.
Desiring to feel your warmth upon
The black leather that binds me.
The soft caress of the wisdom
Of velvety words for kissing.
Left drifting in the breeze
A melody without notes.
For my love affair with words
That dance through futuristic
Pages of time.

I am the tender sweetness like sugar
Of my yearning soul
With dreams yet to come alive.
I cry out to you awaiting your thoughts
Your desires, glimpses of your personality
Passions quilled upon the lines of my sculpted mold.

Yet I am but a baby naked, blowing empty
Pages Into the ebony starlit night.
Cold and alone, not a letter insight
No scribbles of rainbows ink
Splattered upon my virgin parchment.
No stories to pass on in time.

I am awaiting the screaming orgasm of
My birthing into a new world
With visions and images that
Tower over me setting me free
No longer a virgin of words
Born again with pen in hand.

Pastel Colors of the wheel splattered
Upon my emptiness here within my mind.
I am but a thought away,
The history I’ve come from
The present I am living within
The future I have yet to see.
Just a visionary imagined or not,
I am the poet!

© Eva Marie Cagley

Links to my publications:


Fear not The Unknown it Is But Part of The Writing Journey

Poetry and Emotions:  By Eva Marie A Cagley

I have often written my best poetry when I am experiencing emotions, whether it be happy, sad, angry, elated or just plain love struck. That’s when my best poetry is born. My muse is running in top gear and the words just pour out like raindrops. To capture those moments, I find I can’t put my pen down and come back later. I have to see the piece through. Usually my poem will come out longer during these times and some rhyme some don’t. That is one reason I love free verse so much. I do not have to worry about the form, just the content. It leaves me spell bound often when I go back and read it later and I can’t help but to ask myself, “did I write that?” Yes, I did. 

Emotional poetry is also very therapeutic. Poetry can be a powerful healing tool. Just like journaling. When I write with emotions, the reader can feel where I’m at or see what I see. I love to read emotion based poetry as well.  It just tugs at my heart and I can relate some experience of my own with it.  Seems like my soul craves to be heard. And my spirit wants to fly like the eagles. 

Sometimes my poem is born out of just a word or thought and as I write it just blossoms into something beautiful and transpiring. It allows the reader to feel with me what I am feeling and may even spark something within them to write a poem. I have written some of my poetry with tears in my eyes and other’s joy in my heart. All I know is that I must write during those times.

If I set my pen down before I am finished and try to go back to it, I lose the momentum and it becomes an entirely different poem of two poems within one. After writing with an emotion, I do little editing on the piece as I don’t want to lose the feeling expressed. Sometimes I have to do a few sentence restructuring and grammar and spelling checks, but nothing major that would alter the mood that my muse has transpired.

Images are so important for the reader to visualize your poem as if taking a picture, but it is equally important to get that feeling across. The more I write, the easier the words flow into a piece of art on its own. It’s a good way also if you’re a beginner to write with your emotions in gear. Many a great love poem has been written and love songs with emotions flaring.

While I am not a poet that can just spew out poem after poem day in and out, I am a poet that can write when the muse awakens and find the words just form magically of their own accord. I rarely use a picture to write a poem about. I use experiences in life and emotions to paint my pictures like I would paint the sunrise on canvas. I have found it is useless to set at my computer 24 hours a day and try to write. I must get out and live life in order to write about it. Just as when I write an article for a blog. I must carry through with the thought before it is lost forever. 

Anger has always been a simple emotion to write about. Writing is a safe way to express it and let it out so you can move on and let it go. This way I don’t stay stuck in a rut. I find I like diversity in my poetry and try to write on a range of poetry such as love, nature and spirituality. That way I don’t get bored with writing and my readers don’t get bored reading. Least I hope they don’t. Here are a couple of my poems that I wrote free verse with the flow of emotions. 

Remember to have fun with your craft and let those emotions flow!

This emptiness inside 
Like a dark hollow in a tree 
Haven to birds that make spring nest 
Void now of all emotions. 

I sit and watch as birds feed 
Their young, tiny beaks grabbing 
On worms from their mother 
I marvel at their new life, and I wonder. 

Yet still void I sit here in myself 
Created hole 
Darkness surrounds me as I 
Search for life within. 
Oh, creator of creatures both small and big 
Have I nothing left to give? 

As the wind gently blows, 
Breathing life 
Into my soul once again 
That I may feel some emotions 
Even pain is welcome today 
I just want the numbness to go away. 

As I approach another day 
Help me appreciate what I’ve thrown away 
That I might toss into the wind 
This emptiness that fills me once again. 

I feel the warmth of the sun once more 
Your gentle tap upon my door 
Your tender caress that last throughout the night. 
Help me appreciate the little things 
A blooming rose, sending scents of perfume into the air. 

Children swinging and laughing with glee. 
Birds chirping way up in a tree 
The sun now warm upon my back 
As emptiness fades into the starry night 
I have once again found my guiding light 
As I wish I may I wish I might? 

Upon, the first star I see tonight, 
Thanking GOD that I can write 
Burring the dead inside of me 
Once again I am set free 
I find myself in poetry. 

©Eva Marie Cagley 


You search for poets of the soul

You think you’ve found them but you don’t know

What lies deep beneath their skin,

The souls that won’t let you in!

You think you know how poets feel

When you read their words

You think they’re real

They create emotions that you can’t still.

But hidden beneath the rhyming scheme

And pretty words that make you dream

Is where you find the soulful being!

Behind the painted dressing screen.

They make you happy, joyful and sad

They may be someone’s mom or dad

They may be a child left alone again

They may be childless and hurt within.

You think you find them on the page

But they are hidden.

Clothed in invisible ink behind the scene

They will make you stop and even dream.

So next time you read a poem

And you think you see, I beseech you to look within

Behind the painted dressing screen

Is where you’ll find the soulful being!

Sometimes they hurt and sometimes they’re sad.

You may not like what you may see

But it’s all a part of one’s reality

Poets of the soul both breathe and hurt.

They laugh and cry and even flirt

They fall in love and break up too

They dream and build mountains just like you!

So when in search of poets of the soul

Remember it may be someone you already know!

© Eva Marie Cagley

Links to my publucations:


She Is

But a phantom of imagination

Dancing on a downy breath of a kiss

Searching for her lost soul

In the midnight moist mist.

Deep with in the tangled jungle of her mind

Looking for a story to rhyme

She is out to spend a dime

And get hooked in the story line.

She is but a phantom of imagination

Dressed in purple velvet of condemnation

She is sailing swiftly in the air

Taking no one without a care.

She’s the keeper of your dreams

All your childhood schemes.

Caught up on the window screen

Lost within just a human being…

She spies an indigo lake she straddles

Along her ID she paddles

She will do the battles

With her earthly travels.

Sailing along on the crisp clear azure water

She wonders around but doesn’t falter

Keeping he ID from the fodder

Of her mundane minds border.

She is but a phantom of imagination

Living long ago with fascination

Kissing the indigo sky with lips of gold

Lost within her soul and growing old…

© Eva Marie Cagley

Links to my publications:


A Poets Philosophy

Letters to myself – “Pages of Time”

  I’ve been thinking about trying to write more frequently. The simple reason being I have so much on my mind these days. Things bother me, and yet I can’t quite put the puzzle together. I constantly keep going backward in my mind, flipping through the ancient pages of time. Looking for the pages that got lost along the way. Now more than ever I have the desire to find those lost pages blowing like a tumbleweed in my subconscious mind. 

  Perhaps caused from my childhood. Things that got locked away and swept under a heavy rug. Collecting dust when walked upon but never being moved to sweep the dust away. Searching for the clues to unlock the doors closed, once open to experience life as we know it. Now just torn pages blowing in a universal black swirl of emotions that paint pictures of thunder clouds hanging over my head. 

  I feel we can only help ourselves. No one can give our life direction or understanding. We must find our own understanding of feelings, words, and thoughts. Once again reading my thoughts, I find it hard to imagine thinking so deeply, looking into a bottomless well. It’s as if an out-of-body experience reading my thoughts that journey into the channels of my mind. What is the purpose I write upon this blank paper in a futile effort to understand my mind, my subconscious states? 

  Either what we think is real or what we believe is real. What we believe is our own truth and well others must find their own way to their truth. What lies within the pages of their mind? Traveling thru our subconscious looking for a log to grab hold of, in a rushing river heading for a waterfall of pages of my life. Grabbing onto the first strong log I see to prevent me from falling deeply into my subconscious mind… Riding it down the rushing clear waterfall to journey along a fresh stream within my mind. Searching for those pages, lost in time.

© Eva Marie Cagley

Links to my publications:



Dancing Whispers,

Looking through a looking glass now and then,

 I see a flourishing green acreage, we once called home. 

With children playing yard games to the yellow yard light

And fireflies blinking lights in clear glass mason jars never to roam.

Playing hide and seek and Red Rover-Red Rover.

Those are the times I’D LIKE TO LIVE OVER…

A brand-new prefab home sits there instead.

The house in ruins torn down not even a single bed…

No place to lay my weary head.

there’s no revolving door anymore, no treasure kept within from before

It’s just you’ve been gone so long, and, in this life, we carry on.

I tarry not here too long, missing you all, how I do.

But these thoughts fill up my head. So, I write them down instead.

Hoping they dance Telepathically to you…

But carry on I will’ I look for you on a merry lush green hill

Skipping along on a clearly marked gravel trail,

I’m staring into the brightest tangerine sun

Praying on bended knee, you can see me this day.

That you may know my love is here always to stay.

Looking Heavenly beyond the misty white billowing clouds

That form images of yesteryears… Visions dancing,

Like the way we played music upon the flowered deck and danced…

These memories will always last. Looking through this looking glass.

 It’s been too long since you’ve been gone.

You are always in my heart, my spirit, my soul…

Where I can feel your glowing warmth!

On this frigid winter’s night, I curl up with my favorite afghan from you

 listening to the tune of your whispers dancing in the sweet melody of the night!

© Eva Marie Cagley

Links to my publications: