*gone to Ms. Basilworth's files*
M.M.E. july 08
My Published Memoir
About The Writer
Connect
"What would happen if one woman told the truth about her life? The world would split open " M.R.
she's precocious / and she knows just what it takes / to make the pros blush
The Mr. & Mrs.
what i thought love was is so much less than what it is
Our Pack: Dakota Wolf, Lola Moon, Ian Oliver and our baby, Ever Elizabeth
Someone may have stolen your dream when it was young and fresh and you were innocent. Anger is natural. Grief is appropriate. Healing is mandatory. Restoration is possible. -Jane Rubietta
you can stand under my umbrella
the light is on for you
My dear child, who can tell? One can only tell that, by remembering something which happened where we lived before; and as we remember nothing, we know nothing about it; and no book, and no man, can ever tell us certainly.
Some couples don’t ask much of one another after they’ve worked out the fundamentals of jobs and children. Some live separate intellectual and cultural lives, and survive, but the most intense, most fulfilling marriages need, I think, to struggle toward some kind of ideological convergence. Norman Rush
Pray For Kate McRae
click for link
I Believe In Nationwide Health Care
E Pluribus Unum ( Out of Many, One )
"I pay no attention whatever to anybody's praise or blame. I simply follow my own feelings." - Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart
you should make a chapbook
or self pulblish
or make a blog with it
i would read it
Very beautiful and sad. Reminds of Mark Twain for some reason, Mississippi I suppose.
the asian sylvia plath
The last lines are great, and this poem is very sad. I agree with jillian about the chapbook.
I'm from AL-the south is wonderful. I miss home.
it is sad. for some reason, i find poems like this, if i write them or someone else does, comforting instead of depressing, not despite of their sadness but because of it. for me i think it is the acknowledgment of what is most true for a person that can free us to see beyond that truth to something else. it is the mystery of that 'something else' that is the blood of every poem i write.
...this is why the title of this means two things for me...
That magic box of reversal, Mag, How many dollars would that cost and which shopping mall would you get it and how to open the padlock on it and how to read the indecipherable parchment folded inside it and yeah, how to reverse?
i totally get what you mean by that maggie- I am the same way. Often when I read or write things that by rights should be sad, I find them too beautiful.
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