I'm glad I chose this one: I have the same idea: I want my ashes scattered in my favorite river or blown on the wind from atop Mt. Washington or spread on the waves I loved to surf-fish so much. That's the real celebration of life/death... the rest is B.S. for the undertaker and gawkers to make money and feel their tears
Hey aren't you Native American descent? Any of your writings reflect this I can read?
Later, michael
Belle - I love this POEM!
Hide this in a LOCKED BOX for others to see and know my friend!
I want "ME and My spirit over our Ocean, to spread my spirit everywhere...
Your dying emotions are expressed so well here and so openly honest! I love how YOU thought this out and wrote it!
WRITE ON!
Warmest Blessings of Love and Peace, Warrior Purple Lady SHEExooo
LaBelle,
I didn't think it would get better than those fabulous opening lines, but it did, better and better. This is one of your best ever, simply beautiful.
John
Darlin Belle, I so admire your outright honesty in telling things as they is... How many of us, I wonder, would just love to seize this poem and store it away for the appropriate time, so that those who have certainly constrained and undermined us in the name of "love" could be told of how we feel. I am literally blown away by this... I think you have expressed something of how I must feel every day of my life for reasons which I struggle to understand and yet feel deeply in my soul. Thank you for freeing me... at least in the amazing words of this write which would make such a stunning epitaph. You touch on tender spots of personal sovereignty for those of us who in all ways desire to be free and yet also know that our nearest and dearest can't (and won't be able to) possibly hack it. Some of us are earth, some of us are air. Perhaps the problems come when earth and air are yoked together... I am deeply moved. Bless you xx
how suitable, going to the skies like Tinkerbell, white of innocence, pure of thoughts, and yet, giving a sad goodbye, like a moth flying into the sun.
Perhaps leaving in a high place is where his heart rest.
This is not a drill. The attack on Pearl. They were the ghost planes of the night, deadly, illusive, sharp-clawed Black Cats. The Memoirs of ARM H.P. Lawrence, a Pearl Harbor survivor, Black Cat, and decorated war veteran.
This is not a drill. The attack on Pearl. They were the ghost planes of the night, deadly, illusive, sharp-clawed Black Cats. The Memoirs of ARM H.P. Lawrence, a Pearl Harbor survivor, Black Cat, and decorated war veteran.
Through interviews with Lauren's doctors, along with those of other physicians, researchers, and clinicians who specialize in lung cancer, readers will have a better understanding of the disease.
With the same passion and honesty Lauren exhibite
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Hey aren't you Native American descent? Any of your writings reflect this I can read?
Later, michael
Hide this in a LOCKED BOX for others to see and know my friend!
I want "ME and My spirit over our Ocean, to spread my spirit everywhere...
Your dying emotions are expressed so well here and so openly honest! I love how YOU thought this out and wrote it!
WRITE ON!
Warmest Blessings of Love and Peace, Warrior Purple Lady SHEExooo
I didn't think it would get better than those fabulous opening lines, but it did, better and better. This is one of your best ever, simply beautiful.
John
fee
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.
Be always safe,
Karen
(((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in Tx., Karen Lynn. :D
Perhaps leaving in a high place is where his heart rest.
Georg