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A Way For Me. . . when body balks. .bread for the day. . .
March 3, 2024. . . I do what is foreign to me now. I am putting with only some editing whole journal entries with feedback from my teachers. For those inclined to scoff at what is given, I say just try to do it. I came into this life with a foot still in my…
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A Sanctuary Moment. . . last bird sings . . .
A sanctuary moment. . . In looking back the words I hear in closing the front door are, be careful what you say. That was from the time I have memory forming words, being told in essence to stop talking . Even now, this late in the day I am told to stop and…
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From My Heart’s Pocket . . .
Word reaches that there are issues with some of my posts that are unreal; that perhaps I don’t know how the real world works! I write what I know, not hope or pretend. As Lawrence O’Donnell commented on President Biden’s Inaugural, experience is not taught. We always knew it, I think, just never applied…
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At A High Cost . . . .
When I was younger and found footing in my woman’s novels, I came across soon to be a favorite writer. It was a time when the library was my sons and my main excursion to replenish our idea resources. Marcia Willett was her name and a favorite book ‘A Week In Winter’ was a…
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A Warm Hug. . .
\I was just 16 when my younger sister caught me in a lie leaving me so embarrassed that on the spot I knew that I would forever tell the truth. And from that moment on, I became a truth teller. I alibied others or as my sister said, made excuses for them, but was hard…
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Life’s Adjuncts . . . like me. . . .
Life’s Adjuncts . . . It seems I drive my family crazy trying to follow my thinking. My mate of many years said too many times that George did not say what I repeated George said. I looked my mate straight in the eye and said then I elevated George’s thinking. Eyebrows shot up and…
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And is god enough . . . . .of course. . .
So Who Cares. . . Nobody they say. . . Except you know you do. . . All it takes is just one I hear, to look for the sun to rise each morning. . . . to look at the moon at night and wonder, . . . . where home is. .…
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Always the Empty Chair. . . Times Such as These. . .
It is late. And I am an old woman. I sit here and cannot see the keys of the keyboard because I weep. I have delayed coming and writing this again which seems to be a signature poem of mine and it is not an honor I wish to claim. In differing times I took…
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In My Heart Pocket. . . .
Word reaches often that there are issues with some of my posts that are unreal; that perhaps I don’t know how the real world works. I write what I know, not hope or pretend. As Lawrence O’Donnell commented on President Biden’s Inaugural, experience is something you cannot teach. We always knew it, I think, just…
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Is However Long We’ll Talk . . . . .
However long. . . .the night is. . . . Coming into a chosen family will be what someone calls a misfit. And the label will stick. This often is a child with a need to know everything and talk. There will not be anyone to listen. Because there will be other children, work to…