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Editing - rough draft


I've never ever thought
of another
but this Earth
so many teach me
how I still live
in a FOOL'S
when all others believe in one
Geez has given me up as a
foolish one

hope to hear from you all
throw your dice will you
I shall then feel the pulse of your

as I am preparing to fly
the rainbow you say
I can't now see
SANS Shakespeare
now he's calling me

Journey to Paradise

Tired bird, Darling bird
Spread your wings wide

Let your feathers kiss the sky
no direction to any where
You'll find your destination
come what may

Fly, my darling , fly
over the hills and the sea of sunflowers

Under the bridge
where the old steam trains pass

When you meet the great North Sea
take your bow and say good night

Forceful winds that carry you
high and low within soft cotton cloud

Make your journey a joyful sight
see the world with open eyes

Beauty and the Bone Dance

(for Tara)

It isn’t for the novelty, nor to bind the injured
sparrows song to mine. Nor to pawn these faces
as sentimental gallstones of the parade’s glare, coins

from the limbo armies crowding the styx. It isn’t the weeks
novelty, spent in a locked crafts room that no longer knows

us, palm impressions without signature; the serration
of your raincoat skin, webbed, wet, your bones

like wood splinters, softer, pressing to
this goal, one white door after another.

To The Tune of Loneliness

I have this clock
It's not an ordinary clock
It doesn't tell the time
but it can tell when I'm lonely

It's shaped like half a heart
It sits on my mantle
translucent, it fades into the wall

All I do is put my hand gently
spread across its face
and the alarm rings
It's not an ordinary ring tone

It plays, Only The Lonely, by Elvis
It's funny, because when I hear his voice
I no longer feel alone.


It felt as if 9.10
never was,

and 9.12
would never be.

That night
we huddled closely
with those we loved,
watched each memory
of the familiar life we knew
helplessly slip through our fingertips -
gone, forever,
as we searched for
in that vacant, darkened sky.



Last night she rambled
like an egg she scrambled

then the whole night she in thoughts bled
how to avenge the man with a shriveled up pen ..

the whole night passed
in a way like as in day dreaming
wide awake she besides me
trying to scream
voiceless no one should hear
she quivered made me shiver
where is your liver
come let me taste it
you can't now deliver
go away let me satisfy myself
in my dream
sucking ye


He left yesterday. Images of fallow roads
puncture solitude, then fade. The sun erodes
my thoughts like a dry sponge. They grow dim -
love's tendrils wind their way around my heart
to build on solid ground a world apart
that may, by gentle force, go on and round him.

Country Girl Life November Contest

South fifteen is my neighboorhood
The last twenty two years is where I belong
Children was reared a empty nester here

my two point 6 acres of nature all creatures welcome
rainbow spiders and bugs everywhere
Animals: deers, cats, dogs a haven over here

The neighbors are quiet, keeps to themselves
Living their best life in this pandemic era
Children riding dirt bikes around and around the the yard

The One Handed Typist(Critique Workshop)

oh the shades of blues
the blacks are quite an accent
I await the hues oh yellows and greens
with excited anticipation

twice the size it used to be
it looks like stay puffs hand
with layers upon layers of gauze
and bands
single keys each one I press
none of this is meant to impress
only that I do better typing one finger then ten
so now I come to sudden end

Warm and Cold

I lie in wait.
I want to feel that warmth, that welcome
That everyone else gets to feel.
But instead, I am hit
with an unimaginable sorrow
And swallowed by the unwanted cold.

I need the warmth to engulf me like a flame to a
Lone piece of driftwood.
Though I am constantly hit with an undesirable
wave of icy frigidness
The warmth is on my mind

Can I crave something I have not yet received??
Why is it that the experience of others is not
The same as mine?


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