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The Whole World Is Looking For A Mother
In the `90’s, when my world was struggling to find its place after the death of our middle son a few years earlier, the bigger world outside of me seemed only to reflect what I was working on. And in the midst of my struggles, I wrote The Whole World Is Looking For A Mother. …
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Midnight Blue
When we first received this card I knew I wanted to do my fabric version of it. At the moment it is my favorite. It will be on display for the February 10th exhibit at the Oak Park Arms. There will also be a reception. I hope those in the area will allow…
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Conundrums
A miserable constitution should send one to class rather than to the doctor. The true child of the universe walks in confidence. It is the child held captive in the adult body who flounders helplessly. There is no profit in knowing anything if it is not also a given. Urchin is the adult in process.…
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Refuge In Dreams
In the beginning when I was young and when I was very cold, I took my mammoth skin and drew it closer about me and found refuge in dreams. Like a tourniquet it stopped the flow of life out of me. Now I am old and I huddle still deeper in my woolen wrap.…
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A God Work
When we write our own personal ambitions out of the picture, we kill all illusions. I feel kindly toward illusions and see them for what they are. They are the finery with which we dress all the dailyness, all the scullery to make it not only bearable but to elevate it also. That is a…
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The Homecoming
My warm breath makes a circle of clear space on the frosted pane. I gaze at empty horizons willing your outline to appear to give this day extra measure. You move into view with water pails swinging, from shoulders whose strength I know by heart, with strides cleanly cutting the knee high snow, effortlessly. I…
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December Confirms The June Woman
It is June and I stand poised on the landing of the half circular staircase. I am hearing the strains of the Canon not heard in this, my lifetime. Shocked still, caught in the shadows of half remembering and yet reluctant to confront the shaded memories, I wait. She is visible, the young woman gliding…
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Times Such As These
I lock up the room after filing the last remnants of words laying about unattended. Fearful that pieces of my heart may be found scattered among them. And why not? Times such as these leave us with little salve to heal the open wounds which once were hearts. For whom do we weep? The children…
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time’s past
crystal chimes strike porcelain ears, seizing time from memories, past. the music heard from times’ near past, tangles in the wind of muted sound; and we live again.
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Everlasting Memories
Beginning with this post, I will be featuring poetry I have used over the years in hand crafted Christmas cards. Many of my readers might recognize a line or two from years past. I wish to add my voice to the season to bring forth memories to be refreshed for new readers and also those…