the city ……….. sometimes it forgets what season it is – but no regrets
Home of Poems
It restores the child in us and those missing senses.
One Day at Ground Zero
I stood at that place
ground zero they said.
A ground grounded with shadows,
shock, silence and much more
pasted on memory’s lips.
A Grim Portrait
Their bones will ache, not from labor
But a by-product of mere survival.
Gone Is Just a Word
It was a typical day at home, doing typical things – making meals, doing a little gardening and getting around to some long-overdue projects. These are times when I love to just let my mind wander…but on this day, all I could think about was my Mother.
Earth Risin’
There are things we cannot understand in this world. We try to find some place within or hearts to come to peace with the reality of those that continually divide us as humans, and as result destroying the “all.” Until we see one tribe, we will continue on a path of human destruction. This poem is a way for the writer to come to terms within herself and a need to see the end of killing. When youth are killed, a great consciousness is torn apart as well.
My Muse Has Lost Her Way
Are you creative? Do you ever run into dry spells … you know, where you cannot finish anything? Do you ever blame it on your muse? I do … sometimes … but less these days … sometimes it’s just up to us!
My Face
A face is a poem about evolving as woman into middle age. The joys and the awareness of a spiritual existence outside the body. It is a reminder of how important it is to love self, and to nurture the spirit within.
Slippery Slope
‘Singularity’ is what they called it. If only they’d called it ‘Pluralism’ from the start, then maybe more of us would have smelled a ratbot. Maybe more of us would have cried out “Pluralism my ASS! This is the biggest separatist movement since apartheid!!”
Let Me
Let me be
This serene bubble
This soothing facade
This warming treachery
The best joke till date
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