i think it odd the way we divide ourselves as if refusing to be whole is progressive but pease do not misunderstand: when i said "i love you" i wasn't offering anything
alcohol makes us family washing over failed marriages until home is nothing more than a preposition we all have reason to forget we cannot fly
i wasn't offering anything- my parachute is too blue to save me
Reasons are many, but facing the truth is always better for all concerned.....
Be safe,
Karen
Reviewed by blue soplain (Reader)
Reviewed on November 21, 2007
concur with Richard; great to read of you again. ..
this is so intimate and real; vivid and visceral. .. a soft serenade of surrender, and not in the beauetiful kind, but the near hopeless sort that renders you powerless; and YOU can never be that. ..
a too surreal dreamworld. ..
powerful indeed
ness
yes when marraiges or even relationships with any kind of love fall apart someone has to pay the price...when children are involved they usually pay the highest but sometimes the price the children pay for them staying together is even greater....Good write Cedric...been a while, I have missed you.
I could feel myself rising with each word, like the exhaust from a hot air balloon, pushing me toward the blue, in your skies!
Entrapping!
Love and Peace~
Kimmy~
Reviewed by Jerry Bolton (Reader)
Reviewed on November 21, 2007
A lot of pure, simple angst is laced throughout this one, my friend . . . Blue is the word . . .
And I don't need a parachute, because poems like this are a trampoline that makes me feel like I'm soaring--but in reality, I'm just falling upward towards the blue, blue parachute of your sky.
Your lines are exquisite, even in your pain. I hope this net of poetry we weave really does fling you back up into the sky.
You were a gift to me from someone's opened "treasure chest of authors"--It is a gift I enjoy! --Charlie
Deeply personal and starkly realistic. There is a distinct aroma in this write that describes well someones wounded heart consigned to being emotionally withdrawn. Good to read you again!
Thanksgiving blessings ...
Richard
The true story of Cheryl Pierson Cuccio who made headlines in 1986 and her husband Rob Cuccio. Cheryl was abused sexually and physically and Rob died for 43 minutes on Cheryl's 43rd birthday.
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.
Asa D Seeley, a young Afro American man, shares his struggle to leave his past behind as he reaches for his future. In his one-of-a-kind style, he searches for answers...from the visible & invisible. A Memoir in Poetical/Prose form.
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Love Tinka
Georg
Be safe,
Karen
this is so intimate and real; vivid and visceral. .. a soft serenade of surrender, and not in the beauetiful kind, but the near hopeless sort that renders you powerless; and YOU can never be that. ..
a too surreal dreamworld. ..
powerful indeed
ness
fee
Entrapping!
Love and Peace~
Kimmy~
Your lines are exquisite, even in your pain. I hope this net of poetry we weave really does fling you back up into the sky.
You were a gift to me from someone's opened "treasure chest of authors"--It is a gift I enjoy! --Charlie
Regis
This is powerful...especially
"...alcohol makes us family
washing over failed marriages
until home is nothing more
than a preposition...." WOW
Deep pain in these lines, alone.
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla. :(
Thanksgiving blessings ...
Richard