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| >> Static Item >> Poetry >> Other >> ID #1203143 |
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Searching for the Poetry of My Heart Think wild flowers crawling down the bank of the river in the Spring, Esther Satterfield's soulful songs, a newborn’s heartbeat, Picture autumn sunsets, sleeping close, coffee brewing. Odd bits of family china, old photos, a house bustling with activity. Sweet overlapping sounds of children laughing and playing. Imagine my house on the hill, blackened tree trunks in the snow. The winter moon bouncing on the horizon, Morning birds resting on the long arm of the copper beech. Swimming naked in the creek at dawn. Climbing the Shawgunks. Wielding my camera whose poetry is addictive. I feel powerful when I stretch my sense of who I am. Yesterday, I discovered the supergirl watch my father bought when I turned thirteen. Happy when I write, the sleeping dog warms my bare feet beneath my desk. Clinging to the oracle, I worship at Simic's altar, Longing to make poetry that soars, I try on many wings. It's still a fragile web I weave with the poetry of my heart.
© Copyright 2007 Gabriella (UN: gabriellar45 at Writing.Com).
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