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 Feb 2013 Jacqueline P
Hilda
Sweet Valentine's Day
dissolving into blackness
another day gone





*~Hilda~
© Hilda February 15, 2013
 Feb 2013 Jacqueline P
Marian
Are there enough shoulders to comfort the world when they cry?
                                                        Litt­le
                                                        tears
  ­                                                      falling
   ­                                                     forever
    ­                                                    with no
                                                        should­er
                                                        to be
                                                      comforte­d
                                                      with.
   ­                                                  Drip
                                                      drip
­
                                                       !
                                                       !
                                                       !
                                                      .
       ­                                               .
                ­                                      .
                         ­                             .
Sorry, friends I had to let it all out!!!!!!
 Feb 2013 Jacqueline P
Marian
Snow. . . covering each and every branch of every tree
the ground now slumbers with blankets of snow on top of her
Winter now dances through the bitter cold air
with a crown of snowflakes in her hair
and with a robe of grey to match the dull sky
her fair white hands reach out to touch the dazzling snowflakes
which fly through the air
and land upon her hair
snowdrops hidden under their blanket of snow and ice
and all the world is sleeping
all except Mother Nature, the Snow Queen, and Winter
who stay awake to give some light to those who are still awake
dogwood blossoms haven't even opened their buds to greet the bitter air
and the bleeding hearts have never yet greeted Spring
for it is still Winter
and all the birds have flown south while Winter's birds
have flown north to greet the cold
while other birds stay here year round
without leaving whether it's hot or cold or just right
icey covered creeks are frozen cold from Winter's
cold blast
and everything is a white paradise
Wind is blowing every night
to signal it is cold
while I shiver and fall back to sleep under my own warm comforter
and the Moon's shadows dance into my room through my bedroom window
and Stars twinkle in Night's black gown streaked with midnight-blue
such picturesque beauty that only poets can pen
with their quills and feather pens dipped in black ink
stacks of papers describing millions of different themes. . .
God, Winter, Spring, Summer, Autumn, Flowers, Night, Midnight,
and many other different themes which poets love

*~Marian~
Hello little bird
I hear your musical song
As you dance and prance
Upon your frozen branch
A smile lit on my face
As you sing and look down on me
With a laugh I lay down in the snow
Beneath the tree that hangs low with age
Over the small barn
Peacefully I close my eyes
Oddly warm within the snows blankets
And like the sky was crying of joy
Small flakes fell and landed so gracefully upon my face
Finally at peace I fell asleep
 Dec 2012 Jacqueline P
Marian
I just love the sunray,
To brighten everyday!
I love it! Don't you
When sunshine fills the sky of blue?

I always love to it see,
As it is always a treasure for me,
When the sun hits against the trees;
And looks as if it's burning the leaves.

We always need sunshine,
Along with Jesus to fill our heart, soul, and mind,
Without God;
We're just a piece of sod.

When Jesus cleans our hearts all through,
It's only then that we'll feel happy instead of blue,
He's the Only One Who makes us glad;
Instead of always being sad!
sometimes if i turn my head to fast
i still get dizzy. and the panic that seizes every nerve,
each fiber, consumes me. becomes me
                                                                            it is not possible, no
my own brand of paralysis.
the same hollow, infinite, deafening silence which
cannot be erased. that i am still
running from

it is all i remember.

and then i grab, clawing through empty air
                  trying to find solid matter.
to steady
                   myself
anywhere
                   *anywhere?
 Dec 2012 Jacqueline P
Ayaba Babe
Sometimes we pretend to be dead
So that we can remain alive.
i am invincible
like a rock is

tough

dropped for a millenium
but if it lands
in the wrong
way perfectly

it cracks in half.
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