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Poetry Please start one thread for your own poetry and just add to it! |
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#1 |
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Does it mean anything if your Father does not know your birthdate?
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#2 |
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#3 |
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Got my second opinion today.
Same prognosis can't repair or redo the surgery.. They are willing to do the stint, just one. one of my artery grafts is stuck to my chest wall, not good.but it is the one keeping me alive today. another graft is shriveled and not working... since my arteries are so small, they will not risk another surgery. I will end up with the same result. So now I need to decide if I want to risk having the one stint put in my bad artery. So I will pray on it. Supposedly it will prolong my life. Not the news I had prayed for. But it is the news I received, so now comes the fun part yep Acceptance. Say Good night Gracie |
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#4 |
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I'm still alive.... Talking to a nice butch..... As usual a zillion miles from me.... LmAo
Why does this keep happening? Crazy about me for now, wants to visit.... Never gonna happen. Why do I even bother??? 1. I crave a kind human voice. 2. Wth 3. Cats know all my stories by heart 4. I get to flirt That's it.... That's a!l I have for a topic tonight. Say good night Gracie. |
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#5 |
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When am I going to learn to STOP doing more than I should??
Nursing a strained chest again. From lifting plywood half sheets into the bus, omg, ouch. oh well. ![]() |
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#6 |
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Ever just go window shopping?? Was trying on some prescription eye glass frames, omg, I think I actually looked sexy in them. Lol. So for 180 bucks I can look sexy.
Next life maybe. lol. So shaved my head. Bought eyeliner, shadow, new mascara. Found missing earrings, decided to pack a few baskets/bags and move into Grace with MiMi, Bella, Bink and Zoe and Tater. Order the Carburetor and put it in. Next month I will fill up the gas tank and head out. No, I have no idea which direction. Will depend on the weather. And if I can find some good stoneware clay. To make my ceramic wood burning stove. Just entering my Feral Life. Now I'm serious dating material don't you think? LmAo ![]() |
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#7 |
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It's a quiet Saturday morning, rain is falling on the roof, but the sound is coming from the drops hitting the skylight in the laundry room. Tater is digging a hole to China in the love seat, under the quilt, squiggeling to get as close to me as possible. So cute he is, 5 pounds of pure love and adoration. The cats have decided they HAD to go outside.... I have no idea why.
Very few know the mind of a cat. It is not I. The rain is pounding now, I can hear the staccato through the heavy hurricane windows T had put in a couple of years ago. I have the back den door open so I can see the rain outside the storm door. I love the rain. Hard, soft, gentle, fierce.... it reminds me of our emotions, always changing, sometimes refreshing and cleansing and at times fierce and frightening. We are blessed and cursed with our seasons of moods. At times wanting to go completely numb and others wanting them to never end.... but they do, they always do.... only to recycle and return with a vengeance or a whisper. As I sit next to little Tater, curled next to my side, MiMi and Bink are hogging the ottoman, curled in classic cat Zen pose is MiMi, and to her right is Bink, grooming her lush black fur, slowly, deliberately, with a single purpose. An oversize mug with dancing pigs printed on the white ceramic too hot to touch sits to my left. I await with morning breath to taste the dollop of heavy cream and pink stuff mixed with Java joy juice washing away the sleepy leftovers of dreams. Restless dreams, moving across an invisible landscape, an impossible journey of the unconscious restless mind. The rain has stopped and started again....a lone bird cries out to it's brethren hoping to find companionship in the cool weather and grey sky. Reaching for the steaming mug I am reminded of the heat of love's first embrace. The pull of the heart strings as the chaos of emotions flood my body. The first touch of a tiny hand, gripping my littlest finger like a drowning soul...insisting.. tugging...demanding attention, affection, adoration, as it floods through my heart and soul, spilling into the tiny form I called mine. Mine. All Mine. Time passes and the realization that the tiny form has evolved into a separate being crashes through my psyche, in disbelief I struggle to maintain what is Mine,. Mine. Mine. Exert control, demands, punishment, love, affection, gifts, ..... it's all for naught. Mine for a time, not forever. Mine to hold for a time, not forever. Mine to love forever. The love is forever. The Mine is temporary. The Lover's first embrace, full of expectation and delight, hot like a fresh pot of coffee, slowly cooling to a carafe of ..... companionship? regrets? lessons? relief? trust? friendship? truce? Each dissolves over time.... leaving an imprint on my skin. A tattoo if you will. Each telling a story that could be true or not. The pale brown elixir is now tepid....fitting don't you think? The falling rain calls my name..... come, come Sister, rejoice in the life you live, dance with me.... You are Mine and I am Yours |
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