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Category Archives: My Poetry
in my next life i shall be a midwife, catching slippery babies in my arms each day. holding new life in my hands and watching the purplish faces change to red, the first breaths, the first cries. watching miracles happen … Continue reading
a delicate strand of an afternoon– her threads are unraveling, hanging off. she’s thankful for the friend who’s a phone call away. they devour sandwiches, both tired, hungry, worn thin by this day, its drama and defeats. mustard and mayonnaise … Continue reading
the phone rings, the school principal calling. she tells me Izzy’s teacher has died. my insides crumple like wilted flowers i choke up and cry ugly tears, wiping snot on my shirt and all i can think is how i … Continue reading
Today I am linking up with The Lightning & the Lightning-Bug for the prompt, “In the Dark of Night.” ************************************************** I tiptoe in to check on you, five crumpled dollar bills in my fist. You sleep hard, tangled up in sheets, … Continue reading
Looking for my Storkie giveaway? CLICK HERE! This week Galit Breen asked us to conjure something. An object, a person, a feeling, a color, a season- whatever we like. But don’t tell us what it is, conjure it. In 100 words. … Continue reading
Looking for my Storkie giveaway? CLICK HERE! I found this writing excercise via Galit Breen’s blog, These Little Waves, and she got it from Mama Kat. It’s been on my mind for awhile, but I’ve been distracted. Now it’s time. … Continue reading
the pitter-patter of long-awaited raindrops. a slow, soft murmuring sort of morning; everything moving slowly. snuggled in my warm bed with sheets desperately needing to be washed. the scent of us, our family, wafts over me, making me almost weepy … Continue reading
Magic, mystery and someone else’s master plan have brought you here. You perch daintily in my lap, delicate as a flower. I will not hurt you. You’ve traveled a long way. You are tired. I will take care of you. … Continue reading
It’s dark and late, so late I don’t even hear the Clydesdales clopping anymore. Ambling down Bourbon Street barefoot, I admire my OPI Red pedicure, although surely it will soon be coated with dirt. Blissfully drunk, my shoulders bump into my friends beside me. I laugh, so … Continue reading
image courtesy of lakeshorepreserve.wisc.edu Honeysuckle vines spill over the fence, falling like a fountain, cascades of bright green. The white flowers in my grandmother’s backyard look like tiny, delicate bells I tenderly bring the clear drop of nectar to my lips, … Continue reading