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Traveler
by Janet P Caldwell
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Rated "PG13" by the Author.
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Nomad woman dressed in
ancestral lace,
dance.
Turquoise and onyx
decorate your
clavicle.
Bedeck the campground fire.
Red dirt and black ash.
Crackling, silver charms
lay across your
breasts and waist.
Poured into your womb
a traditional death,
bearing a crystal fall.
Sway to your feet, undulate,
stir from your ashes and spit.
Wet the men who use and abuse.
Too, too beautiful my glory girl.
For their urgings of smoked
sausages and disgrace.
Tell me mortal goddess,
what can you see? Do
you see it, will you?
Shine your light, sing
your songs of love for
one the one coming
to free you.
Silence!
© Janet Caldwell 2004-2010
Photo from Googe Images
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| Reviewed by steve Chering |
3/19/2011 |
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| Wow poem. grand write. |
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| Reviewed by C. J. Stevens |
9/16/2010 |
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A truly magical poem. It stays with one. Thank you so very much for sharing this.
CJ |
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| Reviewed by Paul Berube |
9/16/2010 |
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| Great write with an excellent message here, Janet. Well done. |
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| Reviewed by - - - - - TRASK |
9/15/2010 |
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Kool...........
TRASK |
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| Reviewed by TONY NERONE |
9/15/2010 |
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A great write, Janet. I love those women nomads...LOL
GOD BLESS YOU
TONY |
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| Reviewed by Regis Auffray |
9/15/2010 |
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This poem is worthy of much more than a single reading, Janet. The imagery is vivid and effectively conveys the ambiance of the dancing woman and her surroundings. As well, there is a stirring awakened within my soul to the deeper meaning behind the verses. Thank you. Love and best wishes,
Regis |
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| Reviewed by Michelle Kidwell Power In The Pen |
9/15/2010 |
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Love it Janet, thank you for sharing
In Christs Love
Michelle~ |
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| Reviewed by Felix Perry |
9/15/2010 |
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So easily conjures up images of dancing gypsy girls around a campfire inside a circle of brightly painted wagons...but also the ache and pain of lonliness encroaches in the latter lines. Well done Janet.
fee |
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