Dara > Writing | WritersCafe.org | The Online Writing Community

Hands that toiled from dusk to dawn rising again in the early morn. Hands that held the saw with ease, the hammer and nail on pad..

A poem about unconditional love.

Smoke from the campfire drifts high overhead the coals burning brightly in shades of red; a babbling brook and a gentle breeze with sh..

This poem is dedicated to my cousin Patrick, a child of the sixties who tragically died from complications involving Hepatitis C.

I am wading through streams of time always moving never still, when I sense another presence that enraptures me my soul to fill. I s..

I posted this poem that I wrote for my daughter a few months ago but made a few changes.

God bless the child in me where I go to be comforted and heal. To those days of bare feet and dancing in the rain no room for sorrow, ..

Southern lady, country raised helping people with their problems. Attended school, played by the rules and now work hard to so..

Running through fields of gold long hair whipping in the breeze. Standing at the water’s edge waves lapping at thei..

Her garden is nestled at the foot of a hill 'midst rivers and valleys looking lush and tranquil. Filled with roses, tulips, an..