My poem is for any person (man or woman) who has ever lost someone. Whether through cheating, love gone cold, or any other type of hurt. The one I lost was my burning candle, and all I had to do to keep it burning was pay attention. I extinguished that f
being hunched over kittening boxes assisting the mother cat in delivery. Then the enormous amount of work caring for baby kittens begins. Yes, it is fun, but it is also a lot of work, a lot of laundry, they are like babies, they just have two extra legs and a ...
When a loved one dies, their body may be gone, but you can keep them in your heart forever. If you want to take it one step further, you can make sure that their memory is preserved on your skin forever. If you love tattoos, and want to honor the deceased, then here are a few...
School-wise, I’m at a stand-still. I decided months back that I would take a year off. I was supposed to take the kids back to NYC asap because Rob’s mom has stage four cancer and would like to see her grandsons before she dies. Only thing is, we’ve hit a lot of snags. ...
I walked down t___6___ the heart of the city. A rain of ashes was falling. Not one person was in sight. I stood at the corner of Kearney and Market. The place had been given up. A few blocks away, it was burning on both sides. The street was a wall of flames. All day ...
a clock that can't keep time Bad thoughts to hide Or a poem that won't ever rhyme Now strangers sing, this song for her Mao mao etc etc Oh remember how it was They said it wouldn't last You proved them wrong Took on everyone Remember how it was Remember how it was --- ◆Let ...
” Do yourself a favor and listen to the first four songs on “Chicago” (now known as “Chicago II”) and you’ll find thoroughly engaging music like “Movin’ On” and “In the Country,” and the majestic “Poem For the People,” which is one of Robert Lamm’s finest songs and ...
over again as I write this. And it makes no sense and yet it makes perfect sense. It’s kind of like when you lose someone you love and you are too busy to cry trying to be strong for everyone else, and then a year later your cat dies, and you are submerged in grief for weeks...
Optic Nerve was easily one of my reading highlights that year and I intended to post about it, I really, really did, but somehow, for some reason (a cat probably jumped on my lap, or the dishwasher pinged to be unloaded) I never quite got around to it. Thanks to Silvia’s Challenge...
She was sure that Peter could have found a poem in the moment – fragmented and confusing, as all his recent work had been, but real. Loss lled the space where jealousy would once have ared. e funeral director had missed a patch of stubble while shaving that morning. He tried to ...