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Bits and Pieces ~*~Awarded~*~

Ms. Ollie believed in wearing tennis shoes and chewing Big Red. Nobody on the block ever corrected anything she told, right or wrong, especially, the children, including her own twin grandchildren,...

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The Canning Season

Sputters are about old planks, sunset's picket, and how termites drill holes. My husband promises if he goes first he'll blow dust off my path. For years that son of mine swore he'd repaint the porch,...

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As Real As The Best Fantasy Gets ~Cherri and Dawn's "Must Read" Award~*~

Urges all the way down her spine gasp, fix the limits of her soul wholly. One hand space travels girth of his chest encourages him again and again, back into heavy arms of sleep, but when he finds...

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§ Bringing In The Laundry §

Sunset slides over the clothesline pole, crayola colored clothes peg shoulders of crashes, wrinkles against wire, unpredictable situation. Blue breathes rain clouds, south bound birds hum buzz so loud...

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The Owl and The Oak ~*~Gallery~*~

Rain's hubbub rushes swell tendrils, and in my bones something sleeps. The barn grays, fades into shamble. Afternoon cages skylight. Sudden fear leaves an owl to hang, draped to twisted oak. Deer...

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Wife Wanted

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Hard Question ~*~Awarded~*~

Bony shoulders marble eyes, and tease white hair. Her look - sorrow and hurt. How would you paint people in these struggling times? My wiry smile uplifts red, powdery skin blushes pink. I hasten...

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Imbroglio

Chaste heart and pure eyes fall slight. Exhilaration slopes celebration. Never again an adolescent I've turned woman, bleed freedom and wear white. Only gravity holds me back. I fly naked, smell new...

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Walla Walla Land **Awarded**

In Walla Walla, Washington (my sister tells me) people withdraw money from musical banks, have hospitals to deposit sad memories, hold clinics for incurable bores, and issue felonies for peculiar...

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Stellar Population

No one pauses long this side of nowhere to look at smudged nocturnal light. The moon cups my face, tickles serenade on front side of dusk, emerges shiny like new buffalo high step metal haze, ready to...

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The Body Learning

This morning delivers reckless fog and the sun hasn't cleared the bank. Breezes up the hillside ooze tasty aromas - honeysuckle, blueberry and blackberry. My soul jogs for serenity. This is the view,...

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Candy Without The Wrapper

"Our results strongly suggest that wild chimpanzees exchange meat for sex, and do so on a long-term basis" Cristina Gomes Morning hovers snails. Bacon sizzles the stove, Candy wrappers top table, and...

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My Druthers

I'd write of ripples air moves, blueberries in a borrowed bowl, streams in half light, the rush of where rapids curve, the first day you swore love to me, how sunlight spills on your knees, presses my...

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You Can Never Have Enough ChapStick

Betty loves bums, shacks, old feather beds, and even the chicken wire on her original frame. She's like the cover of a book that doesn't need to be opened to get the gist of her statements. Her little...

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Mortar and Cracks

Spring turns the eyes inward, postures slender skeins of blue veins, dips edges of rebound, fingers overturned rocks. The squirmy want to swim backward, face music once left, flip body to unknown....

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Yay Krispy Kreme! (Content)

It's totally illogical - feeling ashamed of not being ashamed, and the thought of how eating holes of donuts can turn into intense group therapy sessions. I needed to go to the fabric shop, but live...

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Contemplating Mysteries Of The Universe

"Black holes are where God divided by zero." Steven Wright May's mixed-up foxtrot, sings blue voices unleashes flitter, and combs sky strings for color. But what I see is the tears from ...Read More

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Adamantine Ripples Between Amphitrite and the Horny Devil

The heart's oyster is a wooly place. Squatters share this space. The faces are not clear, but they like to pen, bubble dreams, daze similes. It's rare to package intimate torrents, shower manic...

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Welcome To Sarah's Poetry Sanctuary....

Welcome to Sarah's Poetry Sanctuary..... Leave Messages for Sarah here.....

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Boogey On Down to Broad

Could the groovy woman in orange be named Liska, and puckered up to toke away her afternoon? It's hard to tell when John Lennon's sitting on her bridge, hiding cat eyes. I want to be prey in the...

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