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Showing posts from September, 2015

The Great Dying by Kathleen Jones

A TOUCH NEVER FELT

How can you ache and crave for someone's touch When you have never felt it? I do this for yours, though, And the yearning grows more each day I have never wanted anything in my life As much as I want you When you whisper such sweet love In my ear when we talk You make me melt into a puddle Of complete helplessness You have become my every waking thought And my every dream at night I breathe in so hard Trying to catch my breath when we can't talk I close my eyes so tight Hoping when I open them you will be there But I know I have to wait Until the time is right It seems so far away That I think I am losing my mind I want to breathe in your scent And keep it with me all day long I want to taste your love for me By kissing your sweet lips I want to feel your body next to me So when you leave for awhile I can hold on I just want you to know That I really do love you When the day comes and we are together You will always know and feel this I will

A letter to Jim Harrison by Lindsay Pope

. It may be of no surprise to you that the day your book arrived the waxeyes at my feeder were noisier, more nervous and more abundant than usual. On the global face, I live on the lower cheek of the world where the tears fall and turn to ice. So you might not know these little birds. They may have hitched a ride on some seafaring boat and decided to stay. Or perhaps they caught the tail of some

THE LORD ANSWERED

When Lord, I asked  Will my salvation be? In prison, prison of mind, Enslaved and shackled By agony. I once thought love was a mere myth, Fantasy, existing only in ones deepest hopes. Bitterness possessed me, I cried out to you Lord for a clam spirit. I begged and waited with bated breath But my hopes grew dim, my soul Became weary, my desires became dull. My agony was consuming me all at once. Just as I thought I could go no lower, Suddenly in my darkness, Appeared light. And from that light Issued forth great intellect and understandings from A divine source. That source being you, Lord. You gave me the understanding that Love was a reality that was possible For any heart to feel and so You sent me a precious love, A love, which I hold so Dear to my heart. More precious than the finest materials In existence and of splendid value This love of mine you sent me. I thank you Lord, for I love him so, How I love him so? Lord, only you so know.

History: the Horse, by C. K. Stead

Recall those wartime draught horses pulling carts around our suburb - milk, bread, firewood � like the record of something irretrievably lost, the way for example the beast would stand, one rear leg resting poised on a hoof-point like a ballerina - or, square-foot, head-down, nose in a chaff-bag, or in the roadside trough blowing through nostrils before drinking, as

The Fox by Bernadette Hall

The fox is a single red stroke that cuts across the clearing. The colour seems to hang like smoke, you can almost see where she has come from. Her musk (though you can smell nothing) is specific like a thumbprint on the air. It isn�t raining but there�s a kind of wet on your face, a stickiness of insect juices dropped. The fox is rusty-dull, discreet, not radiant or hot or pulsing. Not agitated.

The Little Things

Those calls from work Just to tell me that you love me The attached little card That came with the flowers The little note Left in the morning on the mirror That suddenly appears When I step out of the shower Soft kisses on my cheek When you think I am asleep A how ya doin honey, how was your day? A warm soft hug behind me While I do the cooking A little nibble on my neck While I put dishes away dishes Oh its the little things I treasure Oh how they brighten up my day Making love to you brings me much pleasure. But its the little things That keep us together Those little things Will make me love you forever Those peaceful walks Out in the moonlight The making up After a small fight The way you take me in your arms And touch my face Those little drive to watch The "submarines race" How could there be love If we just lived day by day No special moments made For thoughts of yesterdays Those foot massages After a long day of work. Making dinner When Im just too tired to cook Thos

A Special World

A special world for you and me A special bond one cannot see It wraps us up in its cocoon And holds us fiercely in its womb. Its fingers spread like fine spun gold Gently nestling us to the fold Like silken thread it holds us fast Bonds like this are meant to last. And though at times a thread may break A new one forms in its wake To bind us closer and keep us strong In a special world, where we belong.