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the bed is made, the linen clean.

bear sleeps.



yet it is not forgotten, that some

said because thier friends did.



that some lied and are deceitful.



the laundry man will come,

yet it is not forgotten.



this is history.



meanwhile

the #bear sleeps again.



sbm.
:: a book of pins ::              handwritten, copied in a day.



the drawing, the written page.

i am paint and cotton

i am pins and details

codes and reasons

calm and seasons.



i am boxes, charcoal,

fires and birds.



i am hand writing.



i am the old house,

all things considered.



i am the joker, the radio,

the music.





i am four dots.



i am the folded page,

the falling face.



i am the picture, the painting,



i am the mouse, the little bird,

a monstrous woman.



i  am a word document, a picture file.



i am the pin.



sbm.
yesterday i told her of my cynicism,

my issue with predictions, using phrases

that were a load of.



she agreed heartily plus i told

you so, look at the bench marks.



so i carry on without you. it is

not about money



or recognition.



sbm.
so you are still in bed?



yes



are you not feeling any better?



no. it is like a bombshell, with

the bomb left in it. boom and my



little world i loved is shattered.



all my things are the same, yet

something shifted. i am bereft.



i cannot help, i am the same.



yes i know.



sbm.
there is a dead sheep in the lane.



pushed to one side away from

the passing.



traffic may have hit it, or it went

natural?



we walked on up near the copper

mine , a darker place yet

the forest came light.



sbm.
so the bear has become a companion.



of sorts in times of sress

and needlessness.



i call him darling sometimes,

not often.



some days he stays in bed ,

not often.



some people are witnesses, study

the evidence.



i prefer the bear.



sbm.
 May 2016 Sheila Jacob
Traveler
Two years ago a teacher here on HP messaged and informed me
that she used my poem in her classroom for a class assignment.
I've never felt so honored, I pictured twenty kids
With copies of my poem in hand analyzing it 
When I inquired where on earth this school was?!
She must have been here in the states
Because she quickly disappeared
She just signed off
I never heard from her again
To tell her Thank You!
Thank you for sharing my worthless words
And giving them value..

Some of my poems/songs
Have registered copyrights
So please ask permission before plagiarizing
Although I won't be flying across the sea to sue anybody
Because face it, having my words circulate
Even further
Is very appealing.
Just lately
I heard it explained on youtube
How copyright and Register copyrights work.

RE po to 2019 June
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