Tag: time

relief.

Time, a trusted friend, teaches those mourning, to question and speak out loud. Over and over, Time welcomes Guilt, Anger, and Despair. Yet, suicide survivors cannot begin to understand… how will peace ever exist in this chaos? Just one word, thought or picture, sends us in a spiral. Those days become wrapped in Sorrow. Then…

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dangerous

dangerous game she’s playing in a field of men grabbing misbehaving he stands in a corner waiting praying she finally stays resting digressing into her old ways illusions of love

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seeking a writing partner(s)

Do you like writing with others? Need a sounding board? Want to polish your works “before” you release them to the eyes who read your blog? (i am guilty of publishing everything and anything and need discipline.) Then I encourage you to contact me promisegardens@att.net because i am searching for such a person or persons.…

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My Feathered Heart

Jeanne’s GoodReads Review Please feel free to add me to your Goodreads’s friend’s list. 😁🕊🎶 My Feathered Heart (original poem) My review of The Feathered Heart by Mark Turcotte. I once found a teeny-tiny downy woodpecker feather. At most, the feather measured one inch (2.54 cm) in length. My guess as to the year found…

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Still Life

Still Life (Fish with Red Bowl) 1923-24 Salvador Dali I’m quiet. Sorry sitting here contemplating the mass of mail -stacked knee-high and wearing wader boots slipping off -the rainbow trout loves the May fly and a rocky river bottom you blossom. I promise to tie loose ends -taut paint beginnings bought a pair of boots scaled…

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Teeth. Dig In.

Those who do not want to imitate anything, produce nothing. Dali Plans change. We say one thing and do another. Does that make us hypocrites? Liars? We strive and fail. Damned fools? Or simply tired? Today, there are no planned adventures until after 2pm (US Eastern Time), where upon we will venture out to St.…

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hunger

“The more I write, the more the silence seems to be eating away at me.”  — Anne Sexton Quiet rambles on a stupor follows me -around the corner grocer stands tall -ready to pack the anger in a box to store, a book of sorts. Those men standing there, talking of wrinkles my car windows rolled…

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