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poems I've written, poems I haven't written but love, rare thoughts, and writing about writing.
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Baking potatoes
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Posted:Jan 5, 2021 1:04 pm
Last Updated:Jan 15, 2021 4:23 pm
8462 Views
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I stand in the kitchen not really present talking about baking potatoes with my husband.
For a second the girl who baked potatoes in so many other people's kitchens looks out of these woman's eyes awed at the fact that she can bake potatoes in her own kitchen.
In that instant the woman receives as a gift the incredible pleasure of baking potatoes in her own kitchen, and is grateful.
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3
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His lips
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Posted:Jan 3, 2021 7:37 am
Last Updated:Feb 3, 2021 5:58 am
8557 Views
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His lips written January 1st, 2021
The formal farewell committee is with me at the airport seeing me off for my return flight home.
I told him not to come that there would be no hiding love breaking my young heart.
He comes anyway love pulling us relentlessly together.
The boarding call wrenching me away from him and over the ocean to the life intended for me.
A lifetime later he can't stop love pulling him towards the ocean.
He stands at the shore looking back at our love across the water with me.
I watch him turn away with a smile on his lips that no one knows.
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4
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the trees watching us
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Posted:Dec 29, 2020 4:52 am
Last Updated:May 27, 2021 1:48 am
8453 Views
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the trees watching us written December 29th, 2020
we walk down the old logging road the trees watch us pass noting our presence our comfort with each other
we make our way to the small stream and sit on its banks listening to the sound as it flows past bouncing over rocks and roots as it goes
i sit with you and listen to the sounds all around us and if i listen closely enough i can hear the trees watching us
whispering to each other about their day wondering what we will bring as we pass through their stationary world their roots entwined under the ground
i feel you beside me my leg resting against yours i take ahold of your arm and lean against you
with you, here i am at peace watching the trees watching us.
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5
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My forest
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Posted:Dec 28, 2020 2:42 am
Last Updated:Jan 22, 2021 6:22 pm
8402 Views
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My forest written December 28th, 2020
My forest is the 2 trees outside my front window
the overstory of my forest is a prickly ball tree research says it is a chestnut or sweetgum tree
the overstory is tall and hearty giving generous shade in the summer and raining prickly balls on the yard in the fall
the understory of my forest is a dogwood that blooms gloriously each spring as it reaches from under the prickly ball tree for the sun it's greedy sibling hogs
there are forests (and poems) much more expansive than mine built more complexly more often talked about photographed, written about
but this little 2 tree forest has been my company for 20 years now
they are my trees (and my words) and they are precious to me.
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4
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My work
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Posted:Dec 18, 2020 6:06 am
Last Updated:Dec 20, 2020 11:41 pm
7846 Views
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My work written December 16th, 2020
When I was young I thought I would have work I dutifully showed up for and a home maybe not with a white picket fence but you get the idea.
The - the home - the work did not come I thought I had failed not tried hard enough fallen off trac
I did not realize that life had diverted put on a different path which I am still discovering.
My are different from yours my home and my work things that only I would recognize as home and wor
Do you see them? I will teach them you with my words in these poems.
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4
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Once again
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Posted:Dec 17, 2020 1:20 pm
Last Updated:Dec 28, 2020 2:52 am
8384 Views
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Once again written December 7th, 2020
When heaven turns from light to dark the substance remains the same but the sense of it changes.
What was just clearly seen now shadows only hint at ghostly outlines of mouse giants.
Now the moon with her varied phases rules the shaded depths in this time of her dominion.
The petals of the moss rose curl up in close surrender bereft of the sun's bright light.
That which was bold curls up under evergreens to sleep on a bed of pine needles.
Owls pierce the night sky derisive of the night-blind masses as they dive for their just rewards.
All waits for the heavens to turn back once again from dark to light.
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5
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Longing for the sun
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Posted:Dec 13, 2020 5:15 am
Last Updated:Dec 17, 2020 1:21 pm
8203 Views
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Longing for the sun written March 6th, 2020
Do vampires long for the sun?
Do they sit in their safe shade and reach a pale cold finger towards the brightness of the sun?
Do they dream of standing in the open faces turned upwards towards a sun so bright they have to close their eyes?
Do they lift their arms in sun salutations adoring the sun?
Do they yearn to feel the sun touching every inch of their naked skin?
Do they paint picture after picture of worlds filled with sun?
Do vampires long for the sun?
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5
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the singing sun
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Posted:Dec 9, 2020 11:45 am
Last Updated:Dec 20, 2020 3:26 pm
7631 Views
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the singing sun written december 9th, 2020
the sun sings of sweet shoots and stems
while darkness dictates descriptions of decay and disintegration
i have spent lifetimes concealed in the dark
now i want walk from the darkness into the singing sun.
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5
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Making home
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Posted:Dec 6, 2020 2:17 pm
Last Updated:Dec 7, 2020 10:20 pm
7022 Views
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"... in the end, all our journeys have to bring us home." -from "The Art of Stillness" by Pico Iyer
Making home written June 19th, 2020
For some home is the place they start The place in their hearts That was love safety comfort And so they spend their lives Trying to get back there.
For others of us That place we were born Is something to be survived Escaped from as soon as possible.
So we journey through life Finding people and places and treasures and memories To build our home of.
Making for ourselves This thing called home.
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2
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winter sun
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Posted:Dec 5, 2020 3:19 am
Last Updated:Sep 7, 2021 8:04 am
7466 Views
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This poem was written on a cold winter morning in the North.
winter sun written february 5th, 1995
laying stretched in bed after sleeping all night all night in my head with the walls up
i open my eyes the winter sun winter sun burning bright bright and white and pure
winter sun is such a contrast sparkling off the cold snow cutting through the crisp air brightness the only thing left of its heat
i feel the walls go back down in my head i shut my eyes the blinding brightness and let the sun make its way unaided
into my self can it make its way around the walls? find its way through the maze? discover all the secret places?
winter sun doesn't have vision or reason it isn't confused by the barriers i put up by the false walls that i have built or the inaccurate signage
for a few minutes on this cold winter morning in spite of my defenses the winter sun illuminates all of me
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5
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Peace
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Posted:Dec 5, 2020 2:59 am
Last Updated:Dec 13, 2020 9:24 pm
7289 Views
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Peace: a poem about healing written January th, 2020
peace washing over me gliding over me breaking over me playing over me
peace comes and washes over me washing in sparkling clearness carrying in fresh sustenance taking back with it terror fear pain sadness leaving a smooth reach of my soul
peace comes and glides over me a gentle front of sensation moving across my body bringing awareness and sensation taking back with it a dulling physical numbness leaving a new reach of body
peace comes and breaks over me a swirl of foam gentle break of wave momentarily hard angry strong showing that soft gentle peaceful doesn't have mean weak victim passive
peace breaks over me leaving a new reach of turbulent emotions and gentle strength
peace comes and plays over me stimulating my mind tickling my body moving my heart in new patterns sometimes almost drowning me other times just a trickle but peace always plays over me leaving a constantly revitalized reach of potential
this reach never forgets doesn't forget the tides that came before doesn't forget the patterns that were before but allows peace wash glide break play and see what new patterns will be made
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5
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this tree - winter tree - witch tree
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Posted:Dec 4, 2020 3:58 am
Last Updated:Sep 26, 2021 3:17 pm
6950 Views
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this tree - winter tree - witch tree written december 3rd, 2020
every season of a tree has a beauty all it's own
spring sprouts - blush of first love summer lush greenery - the fullness of love fall explosion of color - love burning itself out
but it is this tree - winter tree - witch tree that speaks to me most
your branches spindly fingers clearly reach for your lover the sun
this tree - winter tree - witch tree
every cell strains upward wanting to be one with the sun
this tree - winter tree - witch tree
raw skeleton exposed loves first bloom long gone longing for your lover's touch
this tree - winter tree - witch tree
do you know that your lover's skin will set you both aflame until her desire is quenched and you are left but ash and bone do you care?
this tree - winter tree - witch tree
reaching ever upward towards your love wanting what you want regardless the consequences
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5
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Avoidance
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Posted:Dec 2, 2020 11:42 am
Last Updated:Dec 3, 2020 2:56 pm
6806 Views
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Paraphrase of a quote from James Baldwin: One's writing is a reflection of one's private life. The writer can only reveal to the world what he is willing to face about himself.
Avoidance written November 29th, 2020
There are things in my life that you know are present only by the lack of light illuminating them.
This is a tendency I come by honestly as my father was a master.
My frantic avoiding creates voids in my world that turn into black holes sucking everything towards them
until that which has been avoided for so long that thing I would do anything to erase becomes the primary theme in my life what energy I have is spent maintaining the dreaded void.
We are defined by what we are what we do and by what we avoid.
Where do I want to spend my energy?
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