“I don’t know much about being a millionaire, but I’ll bet I’d be darling at it.” —Dorothy Parker

I spent part of the week spending lottery money
Like so many people do on snowy winter days,
when the pot climbs and the thermostat falls.

Curled up with the cat
thinking about the age of the cars, the mileage,
the traveling I haven’t done.

They’re different dreams now than the were
ten or fifteen years ago.
I don’t spend time fitting the houses and boats,
buying extravagant gifts for family and friends.

Now I think how the winners end up—
stripped bare by the change,
inundated in a wave of sadness,
unmatched by ability,
untempered by time.

I think of lawyers, financials advisers,
annuities and investment accounts.
How I would protect
and it hardly seems worth dreaming any more.

But I still bought a ticket.

Nichole M. Dulin


Thought Exercises 

Reading’s for pleasure
and getting away
Fishing’s for solace
and passing Sundays.

Yoga’s for centering,
body and mind.
Running’s for heart,
endorphins to find.

Singing is for sharing,
your joys in one voice.
Prayers are for making
a positive choice.

Cleaning the house puts back
order again.
Baking creates one new thing
out of ten.

But what’s to be done
to find whimsy in life?
Is that search the answer
to curing your strife?

Or is whimsy alone the action
to bring life satisfaction.

Nichole M. Dulin

photo by Kristin Bartalo Rapp

Writer’s Block

It’s harder to write when you’re happy.
It’s harder to make joy sincere.
It was easy to draw from the fire.
There’s a thousand expressions for fear.

There’s always a song for the love lost.
There’s always more tissues for tears.
But there’s nothing to write when the pain stops,
And the love has been with you for years.


Nichole M. Dulin