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Showing posts from 2016

I Learned to Sing

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"Everything becomes a little different as soon as it is spoken out loud." ~Hermann Hesse

You know the old saying? "Children are to be seen, and not heard.", as a child I heard that line more times than I care to admit.   There was a certain expectation then of children.  A respect that needed no words only a look that spoke volumes of dismay with one stone hard glance.   There are certain silences that move through years like time travelers, whispering in our ear and telling us what to think and what to do for years to come.  Being the daughter of the time of silence, I have spent my entire adulthood trying to be heard.  The following is my contribution to Poets United's Midweek Motif ~Conversation Come join us! 


I learned to sing at a young age sitting on the bus carrying my voice  loud and strong  against the loud  engine of the bus no one was listening only bugs that flew in  the open window  at my seat it was  a wonderful feeling to belt out a tune with my ow…

The Mountains Speak to Me

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Photo Credit


Linking with Imaginary Gardens for Hannah's "Transforming with Nature's Wonders" prompt.
Take a look and join in.

The Mountains Speak to Me,

Hush city
Let my heart follow where it will
to the tallest mountains and the river's rill
You see
my soul has already wed nature's call
where feet may wander and may also fall
like lonely hearts that search the shore
and always leave wanting more
Sshhhh
no city block can fill the void
nor lure me in to it's inner noise
for I was betrothed at a tender time
to take a path that leads to a mountain pine
where the sky reins and trees abound
a place where birds follow and know the sound
hush
can you hear it?
I can.......
Google Images photo


A Language No Book Can Teach

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The heart is not simply suspended in a body but in a culture, a place, a time.   ~Mimi Guarneri, The Heart Speaks

MY IDEAS ALWAYS SHOW UP WHEN I HAVE NO PEN

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Ideas are like wandering sons.  They show up when you least expect them.  ~Bern Williams

Open Wide

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photo by Tom Chambers The Mag #312
Also linking with Poet's United and Midweek Motif ~ Open / Openess


The willingness to share does not make one charitable; it makes one free. ~Robert Brault



Open wide your heart like a door and welcome life in like a deer upon your fine dining table. Open wide your hands like a moon flower and reach out toward the dark of night. Open wide your mind like a window and venture out to see and feel the gravel on the other side of the tracks. Open wide your arms like an armoire and embrace all that life has given you to hold,
so that you may have the strength and grace to give some back to those who cross your path.

The Truest Gifts

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 Linking with Poets United for Poetry Pantry 297 posted by Mary


Love cures people—both the ones who give it and the ones who receive it.  ~Karl Menninger



It is in the giving of true love and refuge  that we receive it at its softest core. It folds back like a large soft blanket and warms the original giver once more. You cannot truly give it and not in turn truly reap it's truest gift for giving and receiving in some ways are strongly connected at the hip.

Giving is receiving and receiving is giving....that is how it seems it can be sometimes to me.  When we learn to give graciously and we learn to receive graciously; we learn something about true gifts and giving back and how they are in so many ways connected.  If you know anyone that is deeply involved in the process of recovery of AA, CR, or NA, then you have seen someone that is in the process of consistently giving back to others.  The wonderful truth of it is this:  the act of giving of oneself is a very reward…

No Net

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The Mag #311

Also linking with Poets United for Poetry Pantry #296

All of life is the exercise of risk. ~William Sloane Coffin


I have always longed to have the heart of a daredevil performer
 flying the trapeze and walking the high wire tightrope 
moving confidently forward with no net to play it safe yet instead my heart has chosen to stay behind the scenes content to be a quiet cook standing still in the kitchen of life willing to serve love and soft devotion on a plate just be ware my complacent lover.... there may be a wild hair in the  middle of your mashed potatoes!

Checkmate

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photo by Damien Derouene
The Mag #309
Also linking with Poets United for "Poetry Pantry" #294 hosted by Mary. I always have such a hard time making it to the pantry on Sundays, I am happy I made it here today. Spring represents promise of new things and good changes, like Mary, it is a favorite season for me as well, so I am going to make a promise to myself this spring to make it to Poetry Pantry more often


Take risks: if you win, you will be happy; if you lose, you will be wise. ~Author Unknown
I don't want to be the pawn in another man's own game nor watch another play his hand and never do the same.
Standing on the sidelines always playing it safe, afraid to get my sneakers and go out and run the race.
I long to reach out my hand and play the queen of hearts and not be frightened of losing the game before it even starts.
A poet is a thinker, a dreamer, and a dweller on the muse sometimes he gets too caught up on what another man may do..
So I shall lay down my pen a…

My Love Letter to the World

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The Mag #308



A letter always seemed to me like immortality because it is the mind alone without corporeal friend.  ~Emily Dickinson


From the time I was just a little girl 
flinging my legs high into the air on the swing
my heart was writing a love letter to the world, 
and penciling in each hope and every dream.



With time the words got bigger as did my questions why,
and the lines got all filled up as the book grew ever long.
I held on to every endearment and memory like a prize,
for the message became heavier but it read more like a song.



My love letter to the world will always be an unfinished work
my thoughts and recollections that forge onward to days ahead.
For the heart of every human is a voice that could be heard
and some choose to keep it closed while others long to have it read.


This prompt is a fitting one to announce the publication of my first book:
"Butterflies and Land Mines"
Many of the poems inside were inspired by Magpie Tales.
Thank you Tess!

I would also like to thank…

The Cure for Flying Fears

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Linking with Imaginary Gardens for the "Tuesday Platform" where Marian shares her anxiety for April and tackling a poem a day, and her BIG moment meeting her literary hero Michael Chabon.  I decided to share a story from long ago that I think covers both subjects; anxiety and meeting someone famous.  Although, my story also has a bit of humiliation to add to the scenario. So here we go:  Many years ago when I was in my 30's, my dear friend paid for me to fly to Ft. Worth to visit for my birthday.  I had not flown in over 10 years and my flight there was a total disaster for me.  I tried to keep my composure, but in my head I was freaking out.  All I could think about was how fast the plane was going, what a horrific death it would be if it crashed, and how I was going to give my friend a piece of mind for putting me through such torment.  She laughed when I told her about it, and being the wise and patient friend that she is, she told me that she would buy me a double …

The Fear of Falling

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Fear is the highest fence.  ~Dudley Nichols




It is the falling that always gets to us
that keeps a person away from the scenic edge

holding tight to the railing for safety
distancing one's feet from the outer ledge.
That feeling of utter loss of control
when there is nothing below our feet
and the uncertainty of the landing
becomes another excuse to surely retreat.
For falling in love is a force that takes us off the beaten path
and if we choose to follow, it takes all the courage we have.




 linking with Poet's United for the Mid Week Motif ~ "Courage"



Wisdom Has Callused Feet

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The Mag #302


The man who views the world at fifty the same as he did at twenty has wasted thirty years of his life. ~Muhammad Ali

If I could go back in time and look at my wedding through my divorced eyes what would I see? Would it be disappointment or a waist of time? A bouquet of regrets held by a fool in white?

If I could go back to my childhood roots and see myself skipping through eyes with now slow shoes what would I see?  Would it be awkward steps that lead to the wrong road? A journey of ignorance or a blind traveler that still rushes to the unknown?
Truth is I just can't go back.  There are no time travelers and no magic rabbits in hats. This life I have been living is a course that must be  hardily explored to advance. For wisdom is a raw experience that requires exertion to truly understand.








When I look back over my life I realize that there is no way that I could know then what I know now.  Even if I could travel in time and give my self a million warnings, and believe me I ne…

Dash

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Charing Cross Road, 1937 by Wolfgang Suschitzky

The Mag #300


"Time and the hour run through the roughest day." ~William Shakespeare

This one is for you Berowne.  You will be missed by many indeed. :-(
Sometimes it feels as if all I have done is make a mad dash through my life.  As if I am in a race against time, I storm through a situation and place, and I am fast.  Swift like a cheetah on the pursuit of another meal.  You could call it, the big hunt for fulfillment, and you could call me "Flash", cause that is all you will see of me even if you are dear to my heart.  I am being brutally honest here.  Cannot sugar coat in the rain unless you want an even bigger mess.  The new year is upon us, and my hope for myself is to be more available to those I love.

The time in between the years the dash on the marble stone I guess I have taken it literally I dash from here to there across puddles in my path from my car into the store and back again one job to the next a never en…