Recent Reviews for angela c borrego
How to Survive With Only a Prozac, a Coupon, and a Stick of Gum (Book) - 4/18/2007 7:30:23 AM|
My dear Angela,
My four children are grown and I'm retired with no serious type of responsibilities other than getting up before noontime. Of course, that explains why I'm usually up by 5:00 a.m.--because I don't have to get up.
Until I read your commentary above, I thought my wife was a puppet-master. And now I see that most women with small children must, as a matter of survival, become puppet-masters.
Your story of early-morning adventures rivals Bill Cosby's best monologue. You are a born storyteller. I especially enjoyed hearing how you manage to "throw breakfast on the table" and how you seriously considered tying one of your younguns on the hood of the car.
I tell you true: Send this monologue to Cosby. It's such good material, he'll likely send you a million bucks. Then you can hire a full-time child sitter and come share mornings with me, sipping a good cup of coffee on the patio enjoying the sight and smell of hundreds of blooming roses.
My dear, I do hope you live through all of this 'cause I want so much to read more of your work. You're brilliant!
Of course, I understand you'll only be able to read this at work.
Love to you,
The Illusion (Poetry) - 3/7/2007 7:02:55 PM
This is the grown-up version of Hide and Go Seek. But that's all fun, and this seems anything but fun. How much more can be done than "drained the life from vacant eyes"?
On the one hand I'm reminded of Tina Turner's song Private Dancer, and on the other I recall that some have suggested that life itself is but an illusion.
Hey, Angela, I too was born in Salem, Oregon, and I can't write verse like this. I'd blame it on the weather; but, unfairly, I'd say what I remember most about Salem is rain and the Pioneer's Cemetary. Maybe I was traveling in the wrong circles 'cause I ended up on an Indian reservation in Nebraska. That's the truth, for I conjure no deceit. O, that's your line, isn't it? Sorry.
I enjoyed myself reading and rereading your poem.
Time to Close Your Eyes... (Poetry) - 2/17/2007 7:54:28 PM
What a sad song, Angela.
And the saddest part is its truth.
For some there is so much misery and hurt.
A little love, a little kindness, a little compassion...
There has to be some light!
Sharing our love is one way of sharing light.
Time to Close Your Eyes... (Poetry) - 1/23/2007 10:21:47 AM
It is getting rather dim out there, but "we" can change that with just every day musings. We can smile a little more, we can hold a door open for a hurried woman and her three radical screaming monsters aka "beloved children", we can strive to be more observant of those who could use a little optimism from us, and we can just simply remind those whom share our lives how much they mean to us....it takes a mere one voice to start a revolution....it is our choice whether that revolution is that of love and compassion or that of hate and intolerence....
Time to Close Your Eyes... (Poetry) - 1/18/2007 3:22:34 PM
Good song, but there has to be some light? Nothing like being optimistic, but the light is growning dimmer and dimmer as we speak . . .
Time to Close Your Eyes... (Poetry) - 1/18/2007 3:32:19 AM
Masterful. Reminds of the sone "Streets of London" by Ralph Mactell.
Such ease of flow, with poignant messages...
The Illusion (Poetry) - 1/17/2007 6:25:38 PM
A poem worthy of much more than a single reading. Thank you for sharing this offering, Angela. Love and peace to you,
Time to Close Your Eyes... (Poetry) - 1/17/2007 6:23:22 PM
A soul-stirring song; sad but true to everyday life in this world. Thank you for sharing it, Angela. Welcome to the Den. Love and peace to you,
Time to Close Your Eyes... (Poetry) - 1/17/2007 6:04:01 PM
This is a nice work of poetry...this song of life is one many will read into with more than their thoughts...
nice work.....Art Sun...
The Illusion (Poetry) - 1/17/2007 5:07:23 PM
Ill pay half a crown for you to be free. lololol
Kinda like the the lady of the night saying -love- pay enough and she'll say it and big boy... Kewl Poestroey