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 Dec 2012 For the Sparrows
Lotus
My fingers pluck the strings
Of willow wood mandolin
Upon my knee it sits

The wood of willow
As smooth as a feather pillow
Atop my knee sits
In steady posture

In my heart of hearts
There tears a lonely hollow
My voice shrieks shallow
The willow wood mandolin
Shatters into splinters

Splinters pierce my skin
Filling through my body
From my heart of hearts
A willow chisel carves
Away the organs
That flow and break

From my eyes
Bleed wood chips

My tongue drools
Sawdust

A girl no more sits
Under this willow
But a wood sculpture
Of steady posture
"A character is never the author who created him. It is quite likely, however, that an author may be all his characters simultaneously."
I've had to many honey bees,
but I have the peace of the sea,
old soul waves at me,
planet stars sung a tune,
arrow brought love strikes true;
as a leaf,
on November's shoulder,
bent down by winters cold sigh.
I feel alive, oh night sky,
Moonlit shades and cloudy days
bring small comfort
of what was

**Few, and Far between.
 Nov 2012 For the Sparrows
Anon C
I need to write a love poem
One about you
Enough with the dark memories
Let us shine light on something bright
Like the way you always make me smile
I find myself frowning for hours
Then you happen, I am caught off guard
Heart skipping a beat, feeling giddy
I remember why none of it matters
For I easily can get lost in your eyes
Tracing the outlines of your perfect lips
Let go of all these thoughts because you *exist
 Nov 2012 For the Sparrows
Hilda
Christ has no hands but our hands
To do His work today;
He has no tongue but our tongues
To tell men how He died;
He has no help but our help
To bring them to His side.

We are the Lord's best message
Giving in deed and word-
We must live alone to gladden
Prayer for this will undergird.

**-Author Unknown-
November 27, 2012
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