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a tale of transformation. Every stage of life is a gift and every experience a lesson
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for a friend who just lost her husband suddenly and unexpectedly. They had a lovely garden, and worked together in it all the time. They were just beg..
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I often dream poems, finding myself in the midst of writing one upon awakening, only to lose it in the transition. They are as diaphanous and illusive..
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I covered my vulnerability
with fists of love,
shielding the soft spots of naked truth,
the places I think might get ravaged in an exchange.
..
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Women are vessels for the gods.
We are filled, we are poured out,
we are emptied, and we are filled again,
and thru it all, even in the joy and the..
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This poem was spawned by an experience of fishing one Sunday morning i the Little Sue river in Alaska.
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I remember them
filing into my room
to say goodnight.
each in their own unique way,
all smelling of bourbon and scotch
and ladies perfume.....
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This is an exercise in prose poetry that anyone can do and is very revealing about who we are and how we became.
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There is no longer a place called dread.;
The bedlam of my fears conjuring.
A tarnished place streaked with lies;
the greasepaint smudges o..
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I wrote this for a lady I was caring for as she was approaching death. Watching her daily struggle against surrender was painful but very enlightening..
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