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Post by Bob on Apr 1, 2017 15:51:13 GMT -5
My younger sister wrote this and I thought I'd share it here. This is entitled "Separate Entities".
She sat in the room
his presence beside her
created a familiarity
she longed to forget
does he notice I am here
I’m breathing
can he hear me
I’m talking
does he listen
she is unaware
because he says nothing
she is lonely
does he not notice
or even care
she stifles a scream
rising from within
her lips taught
throat tightens
it won’t escape
she won’t make a sound
as she sits in the old familiarity
time just ticks on
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Post by TheSource on Aug 11, 2017 15:50:47 GMT -5
How did I miss this?
That was pretty cool to read Bob!
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Post by Bob on Aug 11, 2017 21:02:01 GMT -5
How did I miss this?
That was pretty cool to read Bob ! There's a lot of pain in that poem and others she's written. I'll ask her if I can share some of her other stuff. Glad you liked it; she'll be glad to hear that TheSource.
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Post by Bob on Aug 12, 2017 6:00:19 GMT -5
I found another one she wrote earlier this year:
Leaving Behind Memories
I crossed a bridge today I dropped my bags Grasped hold of her hand Took a deep breath Looking forward Crossing the bridge Was bittersweet Leaving behind Memories fading Beauty was awaiting Eyes wide open Wide with wonder Warmth and light Lush and green Each step easier than the last Breathe in deep Exhale to expel the distant painful past We start fresh In this beautiful place We are safe Across the bridge
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Post by Bob on Aug 12, 2017 6:03:41 GMT -5
Another from my sister:
Every Tear Is A Memory
She was alone in her room thoughts drfiting through her mind like leaves scattering with a light wind they danced and swirled in her head
she escaped here her thoughts were hers it was a safe place no one could take them away
distant memories would come and go like sitting by a fire of a cold night she melted into them
a smile would appear her eyes let go a tear if only she could run back to make the past present once more
interrupted she looked away her smile faded the eyes dried a coldness swept over her
the memories will come and they will go always hers to cherish in this safe place of hers
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Post by Bob on Aug 12, 2017 6:08:02 GMT -5
Another from my sister, writing about her memories of when we used to spend the summer up in NH at a home my parents had there.
Early Evening Rain
I sit alone on this couch
listening to the sound of
a falling light rain
it makes millions of tiny circles
on the lake outside my window
the smell of wet pine wafts
and fills the room
it’s a familiar smell
one that is welcomed
bringing back a time
when I always felt safe
for I am comfortable
here at the lake
listening to the rain
it sounds like a symphony
as it cleanses my soul
mist rises from the lake surface
when the rains stops
the music continues
tiny drops of water clinging
to the roof, trees and deck chairs
tip tap rap tap tapping
these are comforting sounds
the falling rain drops
on wet soft pine or
the deck outside my window
they touch my soul
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Post by Bob on Aug 12, 2017 6:11:35 GMT -5
My sister wrote this earlier this year.
Bridge Crossing
I crossed another bridge today
I let go of myself as a little girl
I said don’t worry you are safe
as I climbed the set of stairs before me
the light was bright
with each step I took
I readied to face the next challenge
that awaited me
I will handle each one
with a renewed sense of ability
I will overcome them
I have become stronger
able to face the past that haunts
my dreams and daily life
God is on my side
every step of the way
holding my hand
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Post by Bob on Aug 12, 2017 6:16:12 GMT -5
I think this is the last one my sister wrote.
The Love Of Picnics
Escape with me to a magical place a field of green where wildflowers sway on a soft summer’s breeze lips tasting of sweet wine we will lay with bodies entwined basking in the sun playful soft kisses on the nape of my neck hushed whispers fingers meshed we are alone in this world of ours my skin tingles upon your touch a thousand sensations as my body responds with a heart beat that quickens I lose my breath to see you feel you your warm embrace I am thankful for these days it is here I feel safe I feel loved in this magical place.
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Post by QuickSilver on Aug 12, 2017 8:01:22 GMT -5
Excellent stuff Bob.. She is very talented
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Post by Bob on Aug 12, 2017 8:04:27 GMT -5
Excellent stuff Bob.. She is very talented I'll let her know you liked it. My sister has dealt with a lot in her life, including abuse by a neighbor when she was a young girl. She's a survivor, but things in her life has taken a toll. She's a warm and generous soul and my recent visit with her was good for us both as we talked about the past.
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Post by QuickSilver on Aug 12, 2017 8:08:29 GMT -5
I admire people who are open enough and brave enough to put their thoughts, feelings and past experiences down on paper for others to read. I could not do that.. I would feel far to vulnerable and exposed.. This is the reason I could never write.
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Post by Bob on Aug 12, 2017 8:46:17 GMT -5
I admire people who are open enough and brave enough to put their thoughts, feelings and past experiences down on paper for others to read. I could not do that.. I would feel far to vulnerable and exposed.. This is the reason I could never write. I think for my sister it's a valuable outlet, a way to express her pain and fears, but also show that she's always healing.
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Post by TheSource on Aug 12, 2017 19:13:44 GMT -5
Bob, your sister has some real talent. I can tell that there is a lot of thought behind the words. The way she writes them though, makes them seem to just flow from her pen with ease and grace.
If I may ask, has she ever thought about being published?
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Post by Bob on Aug 12, 2017 19:41:46 GMT -5
TheSource, I don't know that she's ever thought about it. I'll have to ask her. She wrote this recently, in response to caring for her 90 year old mother-in-law. It's been a horror show; I won't share the messy details. My sister has seen more than her share of elder care over the years, having once taken in my late paternal grandmother. She was a miserable woman in her later years and I'll never know how my sister did it. She has a big heart. This is someone who makes burial gowns from donated wedding gowns, which go to preemies and still born infants. She makes these beautiful gowns, so tiny and delicate, to give the grieving parents something to bury their child in. A Lifetime of Changes ~ Tales of Life
First cry of a newborn Tears of joy and happiness A lifetime of "what ifs" Milestones of firsts Diaper changes and feedings Sleepless nights Toilet training Days spent chasing a fast toddler Terrible twos First day of kindergarten Middle school woes College applications Working to support yourself Marriage Raising a family Empty nester Retirement I am getting older Life has passed before my eyes Your loving spouse dies Loneliness sets in Your friends are dying, too You start to forget little things My mouth has no filter Bodily function's lost Pull ups and diapers My bones are frail I spend more time in bed Unable to feed myself Please be patient with me I have come full circle
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Post by TheSource on Aug 12, 2017 20:29:14 GMT -5
Bob, an excellent write. Your sister has talent.
Please forgive as I don't mean to hijack your thread, but I ran across this one a few years back. (author unknown) Your recent post of your sisters poem made me think about it and I thought I'd like to share it with you and her since it is along the same line.
I hope you both enjoy it.
__________________________________________ __________________________________________
First, I was dying to finish my high school and start college. And then I was dying to finish college and start working.
Then I was dying to marry and have children. And then I was dying for my children to grow old enough so I could go back to work.
But then I was dying to retire. And now I am dying...
And suddenly I realized... I forgot to live.
Please don't let this happen to you. Appreciate your current situation and enjoy each day.
... old friend
To make money we lose our health, and then to restore our health we lose our money... We live as if we are never going to die, and we die as if we never lived...
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