A Net Full of Butterflies

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Linking with the Sunday Muse for Muse # 107
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“No language can express the power, and beauty, and heroism, and majesty of a mother's love. It shrinks not where man cowers, and grows stronger where man faints, and over wastes of worldly fortunes sends the radiance of its quenchless fidelity like a star.” ~Edwin Hubbell Chapin
I parade my scars like a mighty flag Bearing stripes for all to see Lapping love from every bowl Knowing it is a true luxury My mother was the first to wash my face To provide sustenance yet my first greatest ache for a child was not meant to be motherless so early in the race So like a tiger I became an early hunter Searching for the warmest of hearts Longing for something more But I never had to venture far For women are nurturers From every valley to mountain top And they will carry you to their den If they see that you are lost Love is a mighty force That drives us to and fro It keeps us ever searching Further down the road The memory of our greatest lov…

Linking with the Sunday Muse for Muse # 104 hosted this week by the absolutely amazing Shay! Also linking with Poets & Storytellers for Writer's Pantry # 16 hosted by the lovely Sanaa.
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What is the city but the people?  ~William Shakespeare

Our Grandfathers and their city of lights now sleep For his children are now behind closed doors But there are sons and there are daughters That are out there doing so much more They are knelt out in the thick of it Healing sickness and easing a great loss Doing what they can out there for others No matter how great the cost They are the true heroes of the cities Out on the beat reaching out a mighty hand Bravely facing danger and disease To truly help out their fellow man.
Dedicated to the men and women out in the cities, All the doctors, nurses, the police, grocery store and pharmacy workers, mail carriers, amazon employees, restaurants workers providing curbside service, and all the true heroes that are out there helping …

Linking with Flash Fiction 55 over at Verse Escape where we write a poem or what inspires us in exactly 55 words. Thank you Joy for a wonderful prompt! Come join us everyone!

I dream of far places where gulls glide Atlantic Seas like ships there I am alone among multitudes yet the only voices I can hear are ghosts of yesterday old and ragged I whisper  the tireless question  why no matter where I venture I remain a child hoping for my mother to hear my cry.

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Linking with the Sunday Muse for Muse # 101 Come join us!
Elephants and grandchildren never forget. ~Andy Rooney
My grandmother spoke of things unseen like southern winds through rustling leaves All the stories some would dare not tell Strolled her tongue like lovers on a garden dell And letters never written to the world Were placed in my heart as just a girl Like graffiti’s true art on a northern wall She shared explicitly her rise and her fall Then all her secrets left one day They rode her wings final flight away Yet all those quiet convictions I still can hear They live within me and whisper soft yet clear For grandmother spoke of things unseen And my heart still listens and my heart believes.
Dedicated to my maternal grandmother, Hazel Cameron Covington Odeneal.She had a beautiful southern draw, and her stories were always wonderful and fascinating.I lost her when I was only 13 years old to pneumonia in 1976.She has been on my mind even more these days.Please be saf…

Linking with the Sunday Muse for the BIG 99th prompt hosted by the utterly amazing poet Shay! Come join us!.
Love is a sweet tyranny, because the lover endureth his torments willingly. ~Proverb
We all begin whole Ruby red cheeked No scrapes nor bruises Light with the seeds of hope Held by the hands of love Yet later that same love is also The hand that slices us to the core.

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Linking with Earthweal for the prompt: "Beating the Drums of Change"
Life is its own journey, presupposes its own change and movement, and one tries to arrest them at one's eternal peril. ~Laurens van der Post

Sooner or later rocks get thrown into the middle of the pond ahead,  and ripples flow out until they reach the edge change is like that it pushed through and makes all standing still have to move do not be silent without a song reach out your hands and move along clap and tap and drum the beat move your heart and move your feet change is like that it does not stand still it bravely journeys through where danger will for sooner or later rocks get thrown into the middle of the pond ahead and ripples flow out until they reach the edge.