Sheri Lynn

Sheri Lynn

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essentiallyyours.ca
Niagara Falls, Canada
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About Me

I was born in Edmonton, Alberta on February 16, 1970. The oldest of five children consisting of me and two sets of twins. The first set of twins was born in 1972 (Cindy and Tammy) and the second set of twins was born in 1974 (Jason and Jennifer). I attended elementary School at St. Elizabeth Catholic Elementary School and St. Hilda Catholic Junior High School. In June of 1985, my family moved to St. Catharines, Ontario.

I graduated from St. Catharines Collegiate in 1988. Since then my life has been devoted to my loving children, Brandon Matthew (born 1989), Brooke Ashley-Lynn (born 1993) and Brygette Ann-Marie (born 1995).

I am a true believer in continuous learning. Building my knowledge, experience and awareness through education and life whether it be in a school, seminar or the roller coaster this life throws at us to make us stronger and bring us to happiness...if we can see it.

I believe we are all here for a reason. A reason we must figure out for ourselves as that is the journey that leads us and drives us forward. I have been a single mom most of my life and love my kids dearly and my poetry reflects the many dark and light moments in my life.

Unlike some poets, I write only when inspired so the poetry you see here is a collection of many years with over 80% written in approximately 15 minutes because I was overcome by the words and had to express them.

I am a open book so please feel free to ask anything you wish. All questions are welcome and encouraged.

Abundantly living,

Sheri Lynn



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Posted 16 Years Ago


The Summer Day

Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean--
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down--
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?


Poetry of Mary Oliver