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A balmy day, a
day
In fall
Who could even
guess
What lay ahead?
Out of the
blue, the
Sky above
Came horror, so
cruel
It left
thousands dead.
Lives
extinguished like
A candle blown
Lights out,
quickly
Breathing ended
Bits and pieces
of those
Who perished
Nothing left
that could be
Mended
Then came the
wars
More killing,
many dead
My heart is
heavy, my
Soul is wounded
Sorrow, tears,
all hangs
Heavy on my
head.
September 28, 2009
Why do I have
this compulsion to write almost
every day?
Is it because I live alone
and there is no one to talk to.
I say “Yes” but I go beyond
that.
There is something soothing
about taking a pen in my hand and
making words.
It’s almost like dancing.
The
pen makes a circle, a dip and a long
wavy line.
The words form a dance group
and a story emerges, one, two,
three, dip. Now for the rumba, up,
to the side, back; you are dancing
words.
When I was little someone
asked me what I wanted to be when I
grew up.
I immediately answered “a
dancing girl”.
Unfortunately, or maybe not,
I did not become a dancing girl on
the stage but I did become a dancing
girl in life.
Now that my legs are no
longer agile, I have started dancing
on paper.
It is really very satisfying.
Write the word “whirl”; can’t
you feel it, I can.
Dancing with my pen, turn,
twist, dip and stop.
THIRTY DAYS HAVE SEPTEMBER,
OCTOBER, JUNE
AND NOVEMBER
November 30, 2009
Today
is a thirty day month and I ask
myself what you did for the past
thirty days.
A little bit of this, a
little bit of that doesn’t amount to
much so I decided to ask my cat.
Are you content
living here with me
I give you
food, I stroke your fur
And then your
face says “Let me be”
The days are
long, the months are short
December is
looming around the corner
And I feel like
little Jack Horner
A nursery rhyme
I loved to read
Now I write
nonsense, no one
Will need
Little Helen
sat in a corner
Eating her
cookies and whey
Along came a
spider, sat down
Beside her
And took all
her cookies away.
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