Action speaks louder than words
I beg to differ
Ideas start out as words
They work in tandem
For every old and new cliche
Words have been my friends my entire life
A great comfort and a redirection
An amazing friend even now
We create and craft with them
They have taken me to heights I never imagined
Yet,The Power of Words
Eternally grateful of time and understanding
An overly sensitive and sometimes creative me
With the Power of Words

A Memoir
Five years of research
Going into Edit
This year it will be published and I am nervous
Poetry has always been my friend and companion
Always will be
First for me
Root for me
Will update you all

Plain JANE
Her mother said
Even when they laid her mother to rest those words echoed
He sees her differently
He loves her
Her mother hated him
That line still stings and hurts
I see a creative writer still trying to say it right
Happily married woman and devoted friend
Adores nature, traveling, museums, and Art
Happy that others read and enjoy her work
Yes she is who she is
Sorry her mother saw her differently

the mystery of delicate petals unfurling
into forgiveness.

the forest of evergreens and silent flowers,

oh, tender heart, my love,
the gentle spirit when days are more gray.

walk with me through the riddle of
the silent and cold universe,

the sometimes warm and starry sky,
across clouds, the moonlit landscape
of mountains and snow.

run with me
naked under the flower moon.

she smiles, oh, that flower moon,
locks her arm in my arm,
hands me tiny purple flowers,

and says, it's only love.

The sky is a cloudless crystal blue
with a breeze to chap your lips
I’m grateful for it, it’s heaven-sent
the dawn was a celestially stamped, angry red
sailors take warning

It’s going to get feisty cold,
I’m told
about the time we go back to school.
A polar-bear vortex with all its features
will spread its icy paws

What jumps out at me first
is how it could be worse.
if unapologetic nature
pounced sans disclaimers
with a cold worth semi-Shakespearean verse

What follows, star-crossed
is a week storm-tossed
a winter holocaust
with heaven-kissed frost
that only madness would call a judgement

We’re steered from harm
by precision alarms
stay warm
sweet friends
wrap up, stay in
.
.
Songs for this:
Come In from the Cold by Marc Broussard
World's A Changing by The Bingtones