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The August Moon saw the rise of a phoenix from the ashes,
In the huts of poverty was she born,
An arrow of peace,
The changing touch of a stranger

She, the one with an old soul
She, the one with joy
She, the one with a vibrant smile
She, the one with a heart of gold
She, the one with selfless love

Born and bred with the tenacity of a lioness, courage did she ooze with her every day stride
A delicate orchid, with the raw beauty of a black rose
A gift amongst the blessed

She, a pillar of strength
She, a beacon of hope
She, a wild heart
She, a rebellious soul
She, a free spirit
She, a phenomenal woman

Floundered the earth for her offspring did she,
Gave wholeheartedly,
Loved wholeheartedly,
Lived fully did she.
Still now, she molds from her final resting place a queen and king

She, my mother.*

**Happy Birthday Mom!!!

12/08/1974--12/11/2008

Rest In Peace
 Aug 2014 Tiffanie Noel Doro
Jack
Always

~

My heart forever blooms
within the fragrance*
of your rose petal smile
~
As I wander in your beauty,
where love surrenders
to each glorious sunrise
and butterflies dance
among the cool shade
caressing the ground,
~
I know this is where
I want to be ~
*always
 Aug 2014 Tiffanie Noel Doro
r
Sister hums a hymn
  Along the cyprus way
Down by the Camp F fence
  For him she goes to pray
For whom the lights will dim
  A dead man sings today
Angola's ****** anthem
  And Sister hums a hymn.

r ~ 8/11/14
\¥/\
  |     Dead Man Walking
/ \
Every triumph that we forge
And every evil that we lay
Are etched on the quilt of reality
Brought out to the light of day.

There is always a witness,
Even if it's you.
Walls are a sign of something hidden,
Something we wish to be out of view.
But our masonry is shoddy,
Our archers ill prepared.
The walls will fall transparent
As hollow as our flaws that all are aired.
My heart I give to the cloud
my eyes where the grasses quiver
my time is come to leave the high ground
be lost in the mist of the river!

From so far I have wandered
to be lost in you o river
my tears mourn the times squandered
to find you where you meander!

Now is come the time this August noon
to pierce your mystery's veil
to kiss your ripples and die in your moon
go down deep you to feel!

I give my heart to where winds the river
as I stand on your green bank's mound
where the clouds hug you grasses quiver
and soul end of journey is home bound!
one thousand feathers,
a bird does not make,
less there are wings
a heart and beak
and such a deseperate
want to fly,
into the upper reaches
of the bluest, widest sky.

without these things,
it is just a pile of dreams,
lost and forgotten.

no, it seems to be,
one thousand feathers
in a pile, is a sad
and sorry thing.
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