tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-79327653386545492702024-02-20T18:48:36.827-08:00What a Seagull Never Told YouThe cure for anything is salt water — sweat, tears, or the sea. ~Isak DinesenCarrie Van Hornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11715648073882529202noreply@blogger.comBlogger66125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7932765338654549270.post-53170262070265768172023-04-15T14:43:00.002-07:002023-04-15T14:43:25.669-07:00Stepchild's Heart<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj51agV9XjABqJBDD1flxGfcBdpRoywabBo7iv0Hc6gvp9hxed4mOupYl9h9w_ZHhouADqlltg0ePSbMtpImTWhikYAzx9MNXrg6bG4RpedD4NNjfCgGkqXbkkiBIq8iKAOpMwqQ1LJm1MdO2T1GXI0g3ML0TvFvDGBVuGPp0s80tYofYv4kELsvA/s500/patty%20smith.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="500" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj51agV9XjABqJBDD1flxGfcBdpRoywabBo7iv0Hc6gvp9hxed4mOupYl9h9w_ZHhouADqlltg0ePSbMtpImTWhikYAzx9MNXrg6bG4RpedD4NNjfCgGkqXbkkiBIq8iKAOpMwqQ1LJm1MdO2T1GXI0g3ML0TvFvDGBVuGPp0s80tYofYv4kELsvA/s320/patty%20smith.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">The stepchild in me learned so much I never asked to know.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Misery has a way of sharing its cookies.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The ones that taste like circus clowns’ shoes instead of the
sweet vanilla circus animal ones.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Some secrets are well known.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Others are hidden deep,<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>like pennies and bauble
charms at the bottom of a well.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Carelessness and wishful thinking don’t always get you too
far in the right direction.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">No matter who you are!<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">You learn that one after the fall from the trapeze, not just
sitting to watch the show.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Silence was my virtue; my circus act that I knew many a man
could not have done.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">For I was never a spokesperson for anyone until poetry spoke
to me.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Giving me gauze, tape, and scissors for a wound that should
have been healed.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">A hurt that should have never been.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Eventually I moved, I was gone like an Oldsmobile and a
teenager at the wheel.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Singing the lyrics to Birdland by Patti Smith I loaded up my
car.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Little did I know as I backed out of the drive,<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I brought everything I had meant to leave behind.<o:p></o:p></p><br /><p></p><p>Linking with <a href="http://fireblossom-wordgarden.blogspot.com/2023/04/word-garden-word-list-circus-in-winter.html">Shay's Word Garden Word List</a>. This week she is featuring Cathy Day and her Book The Circus in Winter. </p><p>Come join us!</p><p>Also linking with <a href="https://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/2023/04/sunday-muse-255.html">the Muse</a>.</p>Carrie Van Hornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11715648073882529202noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7932765338654549270.post-70604665604670323302022-10-28T14:23:00.001-07:002022-10-28T14:23:31.831-07:00Ink Has Been My Anthem<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKUVPgorS_Srczu0p8oNdndIF7zcnbZPWg8XbEW91eLTl1muwsuaupWX2s-C0mbA14RXWKNI60KtOvvLnLWLWkoeE37cmocUIp2EryAdJkhutZzEDCfb0B82COXO3_8-9uLshYBAWhimUOxz8Gs9R40aMlSOcPFYGQ4q0i1lOtdn0MAWjGVcmgYg/s236/crow%20on%20a%20chair%20girl%20with%20top%20hat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="236" data-original-width="236" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKUVPgorS_Srczu0p8oNdndIF7zcnbZPWg8XbEW91eLTl1muwsuaupWX2s-C0mbA14RXWKNI60KtOvvLnLWLWkoeE37cmocUIp2EryAdJkhutZzEDCfb0B82COXO3_8-9uLshYBAWhimUOxz8Gs9R40aMlSOcPFYGQ4q0i1lOtdn0MAWjGVcmgYg/w400-h400/crow%20on%20a%20chair%20girl%20with%20top%20hat.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b>“Sometimes you never know the value of a moment until it
becomes a memory.” ~ Dr. Seuss</b><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b><br /></b></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">Ink has been my anthem<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">And paper is the hands that hold the dead flowers I long to
save.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">The years have moved on as fast as a child at play,<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">but my heart looks back in slow motion the way a teenager
heads to chores.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">Yesterday held something priceless; a treasure that cannot
be replaced like coins in a purse.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">Each soul that spoke to my heart comes with me poised and
lovely into tomorrow.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">We speak of older times; the memory of birth and dying.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">The conversations long since closed are re-opened like boxes
after the big move.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">I pull them out one by one and re-hear your voice within my
heart.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">Soft like a silk sheet I wrap myself in the thought of you, <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">and sorrow both comforts and hurts at the same time.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">When I was a child, I sang to ease those pains.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">Belting the same tunes like a mockingbird in October.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">Voices carry and music lifts us to places our feet can no
longer take us.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">That is why I write poetry and that is why I sing.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">Linking with <a href="http://fireblossom-wordgarden.blogspot.com/2022/10/word-garden-word-list-susie-clevenger.html">Shay's Word Garden Word List</a> where this week the featured writer is my lovely friend <a href="https://confessionsofalaundrygoddess.blogspot.com/">Susie</a>! Thank you Shay for another wonderful word list!!</p><p class="MsoNormal">Also linking with <a href="https://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/">the Muse</a>.</p><p>
</p>Carrie Van Hornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11715648073882529202noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7932765338654549270.post-8325718571174709042022-08-27T14:52:00.000-07:002022-08-27T14:52:32.954-07:00The Deep End<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzK0D1216-7U85p-wSmp8UzIaTR16hVgtDW5LCWFdRc2wzjmkxVsA00SZNv2Nams-iPLPnxq80lc1blqYaEkxsi3j86C8i2jy_itdNLWRTk9BdkQc6V63Ug5-m1rhwBLGyC_KsTrr9Mh0CLVXNGW60OJfUrn3zVer4BedTG7dq9SRKakFccFavKQ/s564/dive.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="374" data-original-width="564" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzK0D1216-7U85p-wSmp8UzIaTR16hVgtDW5LCWFdRc2wzjmkxVsA00SZNv2Nams-iPLPnxq80lc1blqYaEkxsi3j86C8i2jy_itdNLWRTk9BdkQc6V63Ug5-m1rhwBLGyC_KsTrr9Mh0CLVXNGW60OJfUrn3zVer4BedTG7dq9SRKakFccFavKQ/w400-h265/dive.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">Students at the H Sophie Newcomb College, New Orleans, 1929<o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">Photograph: Edwin L Wisherd<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b>All the art of living lies in a fine mingling of letting go
and holding on. ~Havelock Ellis</b><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">Always make sure you know where the deep end is when you choose
to dive into life!<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">It can be dangerous trying to live. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">So many ways to break your neck,<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">and even more ways lead to broken hearts.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">I learned long ago that complacency is cruel!<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">It makes us blind to the potholes,<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">and forget about reasons for holding to the side.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">All the dangers of the shallow end seem so far away.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">The reasons we fell in love can evaporate to clouds.</p><p class="MsoNormal">So, always make sure you know where the deep end is when you
choose to dive into life.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">It can be dangerous trying to live,</p><p class="MsoNormal">
</p><p class="MsoNormal">but whatever you do, don’t stop searching!<o:p></o:p></p></div><p><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">Linking with <a href="https://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/2022/08/sunday-muse-225.html">the Sunday Muse</a> for Muse #225</p><p style="text-align: center;">Come join us!</p>Carrie Van Hornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11715648073882529202noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7932765338654549270.post-40331618251221987832022-07-17T08:33:00.000-07:002022-07-17T08:33:52.171-07:00Lost Is a Place with Broken Wings,<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3YQ5fFLi1oqjHHVPzR_RR7I2gVVatojbdpxj6pegm6ATOaT_lxcrnzbodPr-srCak4IFGe6WjBm2KUjjydUte1pNJsBMeC7x4pcIHCGJrn2wzx2PIe2uS8ICAaP3vXyr8-u9rS2PXEQqzuOqnXPBXo1kWCObCbWcuIhhqpMVIQWfJezYE7RMvRA/s640/girl%20and%20a%20flower%20for%20muse.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="428" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3YQ5fFLi1oqjHHVPzR_RR7I2gVVatojbdpxj6pegm6ATOaT_lxcrnzbodPr-srCak4IFGe6WjBm2KUjjydUte1pNJsBMeC7x4pcIHCGJrn2wzx2PIe2uS8ICAaP3vXyr8-u9rS2PXEQqzuOqnXPBXo1kWCObCbWcuIhhqpMVIQWfJezYE7RMvRA/w428-h640/girl%20and%20a%20flower%20for%20muse.jpg" width="428" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">When I was a little girl, I lost my silly star-studded sunglasses in the booth of a Big Boy restaurant in Dallas. I still remember the feeling that hit me when I realized they were not still on my head as we got back in the car. In tears, I begged my daddy to go back in to retrieve them, and even though he did, I still remember that distant memory vividly. Some things no matter how small they are, stick with you like a silken slip on a July day. The feeling of loss can have a mighty punch; one that we can never forget.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">Lost is a place with broken wings</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">Like an injured bird where it does not belong</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">And once you have lingered there long enough</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">You forget you could fly all along</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">I searched for you in reflections</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">Not just mirrors but the eyes of the old</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">In their grief and brilliant memories</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">I heard your voice in each story told</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">Lost is a place with no directions</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">Yet signs around every bend</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">When you are staring hard into yesterday</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Today gets blown away in the wind</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">I lost you one summer morning</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">Before winter was due to unfold</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">Now I only remember August</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">As a summer that was way too cold</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">For lost is a place with broken wings</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">Like an injured bird where it does not belong</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">And once you have lingered there long enough</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">You forget you could fly all along.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE5mQC6IPcqSukGnWefQKxrEBR6J5KLXTVpOiMEJU6nW29RRbQT59f2ISTRA8knWQL-OGAEnjQ1qcGqn1obKJiMmeZQJiCfy2tKVBSMYYGk0_iCn4nijPVSYkdbrfNWLNOGqiWOcDC4PgYSJ4kv_WbypUJw0Pd5TWYnZFEOCp2pY3VY4Qvk9jOiw/s350/girl%20on%20a%20tower.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="350" data-original-width="350" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE5mQC6IPcqSukGnWefQKxrEBR6J5KLXTVpOiMEJU6nW29RRbQT59f2ISTRA8knWQL-OGAEnjQ1qcGqn1obKJiMmeZQJiCfy2tKVBSMYYGk0_iCn4nijPVSYkdbrfNWLNOGqiWOcDC4PgYSJ4kv_WbypUJw0Pd5TWYnZFEOCp2pY3VY4Qvk9jOiw/w400-h400/girl%20on%20a%20tower.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-align: center;">Photography by Rodney Smith</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-align: center;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-align: center;">Linking with <a href="https://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/2022/07/sunday-muse-219.html">the Sunday Muse</a> for Muse # 219</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-align: center;">This week we are remembering a dear Muse friend Beverly who has recently passed. Rest in peace dear Bev. 💖</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.6933px; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;"><br /></p>Carrie Van Hornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11715648073882529202noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7932765338654549270.post-44939724661454733972022-06-25T14:12:00.000-07:002022-06-25T14:12:08.929-07:00Lily of the Valley<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFiOKT_L_afiNuxVYRihUs7qK_Ua0TDlVxzAy0JvSQxPDv65G8DkbtzeMLZdhr3-UInh6SA72RaIcW63Jw3lxg8pHWwzPZAePaXwwgT7NXLrZ5zGEMpJW9ygApLSO-lbgw3D3MlKgu6tF5OhZsZn1VjbMbGYY-3XCYE8H9T7LiuYjzhdfwIhOq0w/s640/woman%20with%20a%20scarf%20for%20muse.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="500" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFiOKT_L_afiNuxVYRihUs7qK_Ua0TDlVxzAy0JvSQxPDv65G8DkbtzeMLZdhr3-UInh6SA72RaIcW63Jw3lxg8pHWwzPZAePaXwwgT7NXLrZ5zGEMpJW9ygApLSO-lbgw3D3MlKgu6tF5OhZsZn1VjbMbGYY-3XCYE8H9T7LiuYjzhdfwIhOq0w/w313-h400/woman%20with%20a%20scarf%20for%20muse.jpg" width="313" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: center;">Photo of Julie Newmar</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b>“The earth is sliced into furrows that seeds may burst with
life; even thus with our wounds.”<o:p></o:p></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>~Henry Stanley
Haskins</b><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">She waves her petals like a scarf<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">with a graceful strength.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Enduring the heat,<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">she rides the wind and storm.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">She will make it through the seasons.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Grow despite the desert she faces.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">For strength is not always the might of steel.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Sometimes it is soft like a flower<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">or quiet like a bird in flight.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">My grandmother was a hardy flower,<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">and the fragrance of her legacy can still be found.<o:p></o:p></p><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: center;">Linking with <a href="https://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/2022/06/sunday-muse-216.html">the Sunday Muse</a> for Muse #216</p><p style="text-align: center;">Come join us!</p>Carrie Van Hornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11715648073882529202noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7932765338654549270.post-57129085549055739672022-01-04T13:11:00.000-08:002022-01-04T13:11:10.874-08:00An Argument with the Moon<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiIahF4npYH5lohBEGkAwBFG_QgaoR5geESSpFcXCt5FOGCbIdvniywRtVrUPmxpq2UQAFcNf1cL53zSY2rYFSRryVhN6JK0ctOmJa9qxEC59kjLWzDBssDZUT7K1oYKfLzETBPMsHVif-idWAxUx9Q03lZEaTm7AirnKwPH1pYJeJYzdF3evWuXQ=s2388" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2388" data-original-width="2000" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiIahF4npYH5lohBEGkAwBFG_QgaoR5geESSpFcXCt5FOGCbIdvniywRtVrUPmxpq2UQAFcNf1cL53zSY2rYFSRryVhN6JK0ctOmJa9qxEC59kjLWzDBssDZUT7K1oYKfLzETBPMsHVif-idWAxUx9Q03lZEaTm7AirnKwPH1pYJeJYzdF3evWuXQ=w335-h400" width="335" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> Linking with <a href="http://fireblossom-wordgarden.blogspot.com/2022/01/word-garden-word-list-7-langston-hughes.html#comment-form">Shay's Word Garden Word List #7</a> (Langston Hughes)</o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p>Come join us!</o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"> I had a dream<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"> I was a rose<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"> that had an argument<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"> with the moon.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">You think you own me, I scowled<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">as his light followed my sway on a windy night<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">my blood red petals fall<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">but not for you, I cried<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">I waited for the moon to answer<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">To speak of more than time and his stories <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">That all the faces of countless clocks could never tell <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">Maybe I wanted him to just listen, I whispered<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">I was weary of his one moon parade<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">Like every heart should swoon at his very presence<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">No one is my landlord, I hollered <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">Holding my heart like a bride holds a bouquet<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">Finally he answered soft and low<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">Don’t take it personal little flower<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">Gravity is bigger than you and me<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">I woke up before he could say another word<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"> made myself a ham
sandwich<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">listening to the jazz beat of raining<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">upon the roof<o:p></o:p></p><p>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">glad to be sitting in the dark</p><p class="MsoNormal"> inside a house that has always been mine!<o:p></o:p></p><p><br /></p><p><span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "segoe ui", roboto, oxygen, cantarell, "helvetica neue", ubuntu, sans-serif" style="background-color: #e8e8e8; color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 16px;">Photo by </span><span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "segoe ui", roboto, oxygen, cantarell, "helvetica neue", ubuntu, sans-serif" style="background-color: #e8e8e8; box-sizing: border-box; color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 16px; font-weight: 600; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><a href="https://www.pexels.com/@luizclas-170497?utm_content=attributionCopyText&utm_medium=referral&utm_source=pexels" style="box-sizing: border-box; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-decoration-line: none;">luizclas</a></span><span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "segoe ui", roboto, oxygen, cantarell, "helvetica neue", ubuntu, sans-serif" style="background-color: #e8e8e8; color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 16px;"> from </span><span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "segoe ui", roboto, oxygen, cantarell, "helvetica neue", ubuntu, sans-serif" style="background-color: #e8e8e8; box-sizing: border-box; color: #1a1a1a; font-size: 16px; font-weight: 600; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><a href="https://www.pexels.com/photo/silhouette-of-person-standing-on-field-556669/?utm_content=attributionCopyText&utm_medium=referral&utm_source=pexels" style="box-sizing: border-box; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-decoration-line: none;">Pexels</a></span></p>Carrie Van Hornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11715648073882529202noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7932765338654549270.post-4290762050269308092021-11-28T13:53:00.000-08:002021-11-28T13:53:42.941-08:00What Moves Us<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiITg-DGXUz21zbTTnD5uhEPy85I8b4Dq735sV39H3Gi8ag9D69kKkurzkygBduf3WJOHDAsZLBiB3nOaHTWchxFpt_DWD5Adoa8M4GRO7PF21ZOn0pi2fH1XvtHp7UrcYCaxG2ruS/s910/people-sit-one-grown-up-seat-underground+muse.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="607" data-original-width="910" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiITg-DGXUz21zbTTnD5uhEPy85I8b4Dq735sV39H3Gi8ag9D69kKkurzkygBduf3WJOHDAsZLBiB3nOaHTWchxFpt_DWD5Adoa8M4GRO7PF21ZOn0pi2fH1XvtHp7UrcYCaxG2ruS/w640-h426/people-sit-one-grown-up-seat-underground+muse.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: center;">Linking with <a href="https://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/">the Sunday Muse</a> for muse # 188</p><p style="text-align: center;">Come join us!</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br style="background-color: #efefed; font-family: georgia, "bookman old style", "palatino linotype", "book antiqua", palatino, "trebuchet ms", helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, "avante garde", "century gothic", "comic sans ms", times, "times new roman", serif; text-align: -webkit-left;" /><span style="background-color: #efefed; font-family: georgia, "bookman old style", "palatino linotype", "book antiqua", palatino, "trebuchet ms", helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, "avante garde", "century gothic", "comic sans ms", times, "times new roman", serif; text-align: -webkit-left;">Sometimes, perhaps, we are allowed to get lost that we may find the right person to ask directions of. ~Robert Brault</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">We are always headed somewhere even in the stillness of waiting</p><p style="text-align: center;">like the beating of a heart or turning of an engine underneath the hood</p><p style="text-align: center;">some forces cannot be seen</p><p style="text-align: center;">the impact of movement stirs the leaves and mothers' skirts</p><p style="text-align: center;">it leaves father's home</p><p style="text-align: center;">and leads to our son's birth place</p><p style="text-align: center;">sometimes it amazes me how I got here</p><p style="text-align: center;">not in this seat before you</p><p style="text-align: center;">but how I got to know this beauty</p><p style="text-align: center;">I came from a broken place</p><p style="text-align: center;">where throats lost their voice</p><p style="text-align: center;">and walkways crumbled beyond repair</p><p style="text-align: center;">so I learned to run from hurt</p><p style="text-align: center;">like a dog loose off the chain</p><p style="text-align: center;">I didn't care where I landed when I jumped</p><p style="text-align: center;">cause it had to be better than where I was</p><p style="text-align: center;">sometimes our pain is fuel</p><p style="text-align: center;">but it can either move us faster forward</p><p style="text-align: center;">or cripple us where we stand</p><p style="text-align: center;">decisions become keys </p><p style="text-align: center;">that either move the train</p><p style="text-align: center;">or stop the bus</p><p style="text-align: center;">I did not always know that</p><p style="text-align: center;">but now I do</p><p style="text-align: center;">loneliness drives us far away</p><p style="text-align: center;">but it is love that truly moves us</p><p style="text-align: center;">to where we were meant to be.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>Carrie Van Hornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11715648073882529202noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7932765338654549270.post-19053881741098542021-11-23T13:22:00.000-08:002021-11-23T13:22:40.663-08:00A Second Edition Memory of a First Edition Love,<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_9K73KTHk-wgJgkcGDn_lxrEEw1x0kphFShiXHVfFm0YM8mh5ZKuxYApAheHmxbm894ksQEIFvoswKNd-wMDfhjFtlmyV4VyV5PLmPULW-3_kR0wiaLvxwzgl5JPoHRpTxaOoW48h/s2048/pexels-cottonbro-7319479.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1365" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_9K73KTHk-wgJgkcGDn_lxrEEw1x0kphFShiXHVfFm0YM8mh5ZKuxYApAheHmxbm894ksQEIFvoswKNd-wMDfhjFtlmyV4VyV5PLmPULW-3_kR0wiaLvxwzgl5JPoHRpTxaOoW48h/w266-h400/pexels-cottonbro-7319479.jpg" width="266" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Linking with <a href="http://fireblossom-wordgarden.blogspot.com/2021/11/word-garden-word-list-prompt-1.html#comment-form">Word Garden</a> Word List</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">It is prompt #1</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">so come be one of the first ones to join in the fun!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Thank you Shay for creating such a much needed prompt!!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">Your memory is a <span style="color: red;">dark-haired trespasser</span><o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<p class="MsoNormal">Inviting yourself every time <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">There is <span style="color: red;">champagne</span> and <span style="color: red;">cigarettes</span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">and my<span style="color: red;"> withering </span>heart</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">You light mine with yours<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">And those same <span style="color: red;">feverish</span> eyes<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">So the room fills with smoke<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">And I can no longer see <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">To walk away <span style="color: red;">steadily</span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">So I wrap my arms around yesterday<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">As <span style="color: red;">precariously</span> as a <span style="color: red;">feather</span> on a boa<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: red;">Vienna</span> was 20 <span style="color: red;">hotel</span>s ago<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Yet your kiss as close as a <span style="color: red;">pocket</span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">and the<span style="color: red;"> mournful</span> nearness of <span style="color: red;">morning</span> </p><p class="MsoNormal">when you had to say goodbye.</p></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p></p>Carrie Van Hornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11715648073882529202noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7932765338654549270.post-66312570644765896272021-11-20T13:38:00.000-08:002021-11-20T13:38:08.380-08:00 Memory is an Old Door that Sticks but Always Opens,<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpm0X7scWoS6MS6N8_l5L7YnR9Vjms2YLnYgaO1ugRgsH6MGL6vCOwbpXCXDNLDQfOgiHLfMpGy0WIoaCcZvOzxhTYBXXzsQBiqH5a70pGt27Jsi0-44EhN5Eubx92js68QOIb1xWo/s640/257541134_4741406105917779_9091440353606398762_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="426" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpm0X7scWoS6MS6N8_l5L7YnR9Vjms2YLnYgaO1ugRgsH6MGL6vCOwbpXCXDNLDQfOgiHLfMpGy0WIoaCcZvOzxhTYBXXzsQBiqH5a70pGt27Jsi0-44EhN5Eubx92js68QOIb1xWo/w426-h640/257541134_4741406105917779_9091440353606398762_n.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"> <a href="https://www.flickr.com/people/meagain-debbie/">Photo Credit</a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Linking with <a href="https://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/2021/11/sunday-muse-187.html#comment-form">the Sunday Muse</a> for Muse #187</div><div style="text-align: center;">Come join us!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“I've learned that people will forget what you said, people
will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them
feel.” ~Maya Angelou<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I have forgotten many things<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The name of my teacher in third grade<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">How many cracks were on the ceiling above my childhood bed<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">All the algebra formulas that I never needed<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">How I got to my friend’s house in North Texas in 1993<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Why I wrote scribbles on the wall in lipstick when I was 3<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The exact time I decided I wanted my first divorce<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">When my left knee started aching<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Why my mother slammed the door for the hundredth time<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Where I left my key that you wanted back<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">What my aunt was wearing the day she said goodbye<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Where I set my glasses five minutes ago<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">But I will always remember<o:p></o:p></p>
what my heart cannot forget.<br /><br /></div><p></p>Carrie Van Hornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11715648073882529202noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7932765338654549270.post-1894696344765689372021-07-17T10:45:00.000-07:002021-07-17T10:45:10.153-07:00Lost in the Moment<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe8yYTFEmuU-FzRHE552yHYqI2hy17yCHQYLr1_arlE7E_2lo2ODDM1llUbluRc1Xue_2LmNI4MmNU1D7yYH4myWSMWURJR-KO3rcUKilL3tYrhQsouMaaUqRm753T2BQWVKZct6U4/s849/ad5dd0ff3f1e148a78619345070f6165.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="849" data-original-width="564" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe8yYTFEmuU-FzRHE552yHYqI2hy17yCHQYLr1_arlE7E_2lo2ODDM1llUbluRc1Xue_2LmNI4MmNU1D7yYH4myWSMWURJR-KO3rcUKilL3tYrhQsouMaaUqRm753T2BQWVKZct6U4/w426-h640/ad5dd0ff3f1e148a78619345070f6165.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"> Linking with <a href="https://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/2021/07/sunday-muse-169.html#comment-form">the Sunday Muse</a> for Muse #169.</div><div style="text-align: center;">If you like to write, <b>come join us!</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><b> </b></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b>“How hard it is to escape from places. However carefully one
goes they hold you — you leave little bits of yourself fluttering on the fences
— little rags and shreds of your very life.” ~Katherine Mansfield</b><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">You were always an adventure<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">An open road I longed to take<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">You held freedom like a flag <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">One that flew higher than any uncaged bird<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Your arms always opened wide<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Wider than the windows of your Chevy Corvette<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">With dreams flying even faster<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Every time you let me drive<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">You embraced life like a mother holding her child after a scare<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Strong yet gentle as a kiss should be<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Lost in the moment was the place we lingered<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Somewhere between not a care in the world and the deepest of
longings<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">It is a magic that life cannot always provide<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">That pool can only be dipped for a time<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">But it dries up in the midst of learning to live<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Sooner or later bills have to be paid<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Agendas and responsibilities have to be met<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">There are dentist appointments and grocery store runs<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">And you find yourself lost in a different way<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Buried in the business of staying afloat<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">One day at a stop light on my way to work<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I saw a loose canary flying nearby<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">It landed on a branch and just looked about<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I was not sure if he was lost or just relieved to be free<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Yet, in my heart, I
knew the answer.<o:p></o:p></p></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p>Carrie Van Hornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11715648073882529202noreply@blogger.com29tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7932765338654549270.post-3713194597919163462021-04-17T11:16:00.000-07:002021-04-17T11:16:16.894-07:00Proof of Our Travels<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP7TfEEfrXW7o8xdPvUsMKVSXja1SyiAnQMq_wUaDOPc2QLRS9nCssKMKQjuV4usnWl9x4fTq3uhmwWxFgdVHLQlWh4DR7L1zQM5bqJxVvCHMj3WcTVbwenOxA51MKLOH5Vgqv_nFe/s274/northfork.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="274" data-original-width="184" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP7TfEEfrXW7o8xdPvUsMKVSXja1SyiAnQMq_wUaDOPc2QLRS9nCssKMKQjuV4usnWl9x4fTq3uhmwWxFgdVHLQlWh4DR7L1zQM5bqJxVvCHMj3WcTVbwenOxA51MKLOH5Vgqv_nFe/w430-h640/northfork.jpg" width="430" /></a></div><p><br /></p><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Linking with <a href="https://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/2021/04/sunday-muse-156.html#comment-form">the Sunday Muse</a> for Muse # 156 hosted this week by the incredible talent Shay!</span></b><p></p><p><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Come join us!</span></b></p><p><br /></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">“It is not
down in any map; true places never are.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>~ Herman Melville<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">I am the
daughters and the sons<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">the inheritance
you did not expect<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">and the one
your eyes will never see<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">I am the
hole in the knee of your favorite jeans<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">flowers blooming
that killed your back to plant in the spring<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">I am the late-night
poems<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">the ones
you did not know you could write<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">the true love
you never spoke of<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">I am the
callus hands of regret<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">the scars
from splintered decks and wayward falls<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">the weight
of cares that you have gotten good at holding<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">and then
even better at trying to hide<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">I am the
lines around the mouth and eyes<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">going different
directions like roads on a map<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">the
perilous journey of a westward expanse <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">the kind
that leaves it’s mark on every pioneer<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">lines of a
poem upon your face<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">I speak truth
through silence<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">the kind
that even a blind man could truly see.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><br /><p></p>Carrie Van Hornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11715648073882529202noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7932765338654549270.post-12184553298098368932021-03-27T13:58:00.000-07:002021-03-27T13:58:43.924-07:00When Truth is Caged<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgix3qNsHVqk7cjpaBlhmhTPzf_99JoT2aEqCVI2gzzoNYO8gj69ehH6fYC2eZZyzN6ac1Pp0lhXBaXG9Npg5s20KtY3xlQrKeQHa2pKKtG8TRqwoYJo1md2ReuR6OuaAWMCv6Q01Ca/s525/138752166_1768918129940135_4153770190097101444_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="525" data-original-width="350" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgix3qNsHVqk7cjpaBlhmhTPzf_99JoT2aEqCVI2gzzoNYO8gj69ehH6fYC2eZZyzN6ac1Pp0lhXBaXG9Npg5s20KtY3xlQrKeQHa2pKKtG8TRqwoYJo1md2ReuR6OuaAWMCv6Q01Ca/w426-h640/138752166_1768918129940135_4153770190097101444_n.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">God offers to every mind its choice between truth and
repose. Take which you please, — you can never have both. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">There is a freedom in the naked truth<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">when all that is and can truly be<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>is laid before the
world<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">it gives a lightness of being<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">that secrets can never provide<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">my heart knows this truth<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">like a mother knows her child<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">my soul has carried it<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">like a homeless man <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">with a duffle bag full of all he owns<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">it is a weary journey<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">one that leaves no strength<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">and steals peace<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">bit by bit<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">like a pilfer and an unguarded house<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I left that place years ago<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">and laid my burdens down<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">in the middle of a crowded street<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">lifting prayers higher than a bar-headed goose<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">the day I chose to speak the truth.<o:p></o:p></p><br /><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhXtm7a4csjYcZxoNmX7gvItOHk0emRGG7Nzs7Yt9ZJluFpUlG3-3WhaoSCcm18hBzcC1mPWmuE87IuJEyQPInCthqzSYNPqe7Oo4epLZimWalX6tOGrS-t_HVuJsY-rBlog6gpnHC/s480/1069329_10200272191589708_1767451624_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="460" data-original-width="480" height="307" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhXtm7a4csjYcZxoNmX7gvItOHk0emRGG7Nzs7Yt9ZJluFpUlG3-3WhaoSCcm18hBzcC1mPWmuE87IuJEyQPInCthqzSYNPqe7Oo4epLZimWalX6tOGrS-t_HVuJsY-rBlog6gpnHC/w320-h307/1069329_10200272191589708_1767451624_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/qHm9MG9xw1o" width="320" youtube-src-id="qHm9MG9xw1o"></iframe></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Linking with <a href="https://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/2021/03/sunday-muse-153.html#comment-form">the Sunday Muse</a> for Muse # 153<div>Come join us!</div>Carrie Van Hornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11715648073882529202noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7932765338654549270.post-36405189317940104902021-01-08T12:22:00.002-08:002021-04-13T07:18:02.210-07:00The Waves of Grief<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyEzGFMepelVZZSBsI1uyOL7Kz3FOvcRRUOXkP4f9jO5JRPpFNPGFj3lN88MdUNPn4GEoeVvOExVxwmi4FWgmWWpzrg2j8jz-ErAA6eVGwIcIA2_EW6GAdaAWpoG0lHMubE0SXKwhY/s2000/The+Waves+of+Grief+an+essay+by+Carrie+Van+Horn+%25282%2529.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2000" data-original-width="1294" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyEzGFMepelVZZSBsI1uyOL7Kz3FOvcRRUOXkP4f9jO5JRPpFNPGFj3lN88MdUNPn4GEoeVvOExVxwmi4FWgmWWpzrg2j8jz-ErAA6eVGwIcIA2_EW6GAdaAWpoG0lHMubE0SXKwhY/w414-h640/The+Waves+of+Grief+an+essay+by+Carrie+Van+Horn+%25282%2529.png" width="414" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Sylfaen",serif; font-size: 22pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></b><b><span style="font-family: "Sylfaen",serif; font-size: 22pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></b></p><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-size: large;">The
ocean has its ebbings — so has grief. ~Thomas Campbell</span></span><div><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Sylfaen",serif; font-size: 22pt; line-height: 107%;">I recently
asked a dear loved one who has been struggling with Covid, how they were
feeling. Their reply was, “it comes in waves”.
I was relieved to hear that they were not constantly feeling awful, but
as I lingered on their words, it occurred to me how grief can be like that.<o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Sylfaen",serif; font-size: 22pt; line-height: 107%;">When I
think back on the memory of my earliest loss, it seems like ages ago. Sitting at a hospital back in 1972 with
nine-year-old legs dangling and swinging from the hard waiting room chairs. I
was unaware of what words truly awaited me.
A child’s heart is a mansion of hopes, full with the unknowing of what
can be lost. With all that we had gone through during the last few years with
my mother suffering with mental illness and physical pain, I still was not
expecting the news that would come my way.<o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Sylfaen",serif; font-size: 22pt; line-height: 107%;">I have
written about that day and the loss of my Mom many times, but the memory of it
has been relived in my heart and mind over and over again. Like that description of illness, it ebbs and
flows as waves do. It comes to me in the
face of mothers, and the cries of children in their arms. Sometimes it is in
the silence of what is, and other times it is in the loud clamor of what will
never be. It can overtake me like an
ocean, or merely sprinkle like a christening, but either way, it envelopes and
then gradually lets go, drifting away like a ship at sea. <o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Sylfaen",serif; font-size: 22pt; line-height: 107%;">It has
been almost 50 years since the day I lost her, and though time has a way of
easing the ache, I have learned that grief is not something we ever completely
lay down like paddles of a canoe. When we
lose someone, we love in this world, they still hold a special place within our
heart that no one else can fill, and in our day to day life, many things can
serve as a reminder of what we miss so deeply.
In those moments, I can once again be the child in a waiting room with
news too hard to hold all at once. Yes,
grief comes in waves whether it is yesterday or decades ago, and like that
child so many years ago, my heart has learned this lesson over and over again.<o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: "Sylfaen",serif; font-size: 22pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="font-family: "Sylfaen",serif; font-size: 22pt; line-height: 107%;">I
dedicate this to all those mourning in this world, and to Amber Whitworth, my
beautiful daughter who not only has endured great loss, but leads the grief
ministry at her church.<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p>
<br /></p></div>Carrie Van Hornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11715648073882529202noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7932765338654549270.post-83921398405629137182020-12-25T06:40:00.000-08:002020-12-25T06:40:11.462-08:00Leaves Upon an Oak<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAefJ27FCDPQklM5f7AoSa-4EFPEqu0ppTMERzbUeY_f6sLZJ_otG8Y_I7qXek51Hq0aHusTYcgJgkWbGWmE7at18pxITyPIOBgWJzDax7NUBOGMt5ZXaV3CsW7sWQBPQpOtkQODOl/s500/529110230_312580bd63.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="315" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAefJ27FCDPQklM5f7AoSa-4EFPEqu0ppTMERzbUeY_f6sLZJ_otG8Y_I7qXek51Hq0aHusTYcgJgkWbGWmE7at18pxITyPIOBgWJzDax7NUBOGMt5ZXaV3CsW7sWQBPQpOtkQODOl/w404-h640/529110230_312580bd63.jpg" width="404" /></a></div><p><br /></p>Linking with the Flash 55 at <a href="http://versiscape-lifesentences.blogspot.com/">Verse Escape</a> hosted by the amazing and beautiful talent Joy!<p></p><p><br /> "If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other." ~ Mother Teresa</p><p><br /></p><p>I see my sons in the growth of wheat fields and old men upon the streets</p><p>in the beauty of reaching out to give I see the granddaughters I will someday meet</p><p>for we are all connected like roots and leaves upon an oak</p><p>learning to hold on together</p><p>and then learning to let go.</p><p><br /></p><div style="text-align: left;">Thank you Joy for a wonderful prompt that you provide every month! Wishing you and everyone on blogger a beautiful Holiday season, staying safe and keep writing!!</div>Carrie Van Hornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11715648073882529202noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7932765338654549270.post-60227348539307852912020-12-19T10:01:00.000-08:002020-12-19T10:01:35.084-08:00Ballads Full of Whiskey & of Rain<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFjDb_FSMyxE9c6BIEEVbjbcmb7BUQJnCuCJu5H-T7Q5DNgLl68cgOqdUe1xLnQKBKVMvMhBO6Dewmd6eqvutWiYBDMiZWi_JPB1d7rpksQBF2Hb2y6MUgpCF7xKLOR9FWKqvfUUm1/s400/nyro.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="352" data-original-width="400" height="564" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFjDb_FSMyxE9c6BIEEVbjbcmb7BUQJnCuCJu5H-T7Q5DNgLl68cgOqdUe1xLnQKBKVMvMhBO6Dewmd6eqvutWiYBDMiZWi_JPB1d7rpksQBF2Hb2y6MUgpCF7xKLOR9FWKqvfUUm1/w640-h564/nyro.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Laura Nyro</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Linking today with <a href="https://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/2020/12/sunday-muse-139.html#comment-form">the Sunday Muse</a> for Muse # 139</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Hosted this week by the utterly amazing talent<a href="http://fireblossom-wordgarden.blogspot.com/"> Shay!</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b>Life is but a mingled song,<br />
Sung in divers keys;<br />
Sweet and tender, brave and strong,<br />
As the heart agrees.<br />
~S.J. Adair Fitz-Gerald (1859–1925)</b><o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">Life is an old songstress <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">she sings in ballads full of whiskey and blue skies<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">so the moon always slow dances<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">with the oceans in my eyes<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">my heart is the drummer<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">that keeps me on a subtle beat<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">but my love gets so drunken<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">I always fall at life’s bare feet<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">so I move to the melody and I pray with the hymn<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">yet in the cadence of everyday<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"> I stumble for wild hearts
and straight gin<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">you see life is an old songstress<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">she sings to me in ballads full of whiskey and of rain<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">and I am learning to sing her chorus and know when to
refrain.<o:p></o:p></p></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><br /><p></p>Carrie Van Hornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11715648073882529202noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7932765338654549270.post-31690535438558272412020-12-12T11:10:00.000-08:002020-12-12T11:10:56.288-08:00The Expansion of Grief<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsvSwafbteSsTN_N4doH5xBSRhs0NLltGW3g60OkAKnirVcjEZ_WykgfaUP7E_bksRDxbT7F-Xw7_guTHJV3Kx6AbtjkKlE0dJroij621k1nLgNfJNM__lYOmqkqO7crqMxcGPdzyc/s1920/muse+december.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1381" data-original-width="1920" height="460" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsvSwafbteSsTN_N4doH5xBSRhs0NLltGW3g60OkAKnirVcjEZ_WykgfaUP7E_bksRDxbT7F-Xw7_guTHJV3Kx6AbtjkKlE0dJroij621k1nLgNfJNM__lYOmqkqO7crqMxcGPdzyc/w640-h460/muse+december.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><div><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #333333; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif;">Linking with <a href="https://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/2020/12/sunday-muse-138.html#comment-form">the Sunday Muse</a> for Muse # 138 <b>Come join us!</b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #333333; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #333333; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif;"><b>"Every heart has its secret sorrows which the world
knows not, and oftentimes we call a man cold, when he is only sad" ~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow</b></span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #333333; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal">I am not built of brick and mortar<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">nor were you<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">wide open spaces are always at risk to suffer damage in winter’s
frost<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">so the world’s sorrows always seeped in like a flood<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">beyond ego’s edifice <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">beyond flesh and bone<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">tears became a lingering fog<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">of the words one can never forget<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">and your eyes spoke each one like mockingbirds<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">moving through every cloud<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">it was a place one could get lost in<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">so I learned to close my eyes<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">and I became your distant forest<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">for you were too high up in the clouds<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">to ever realize you were so lost<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #333333; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif;">
</span></p><p class="MsoNormal">nor see that I was longing to be found.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #333333; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #333333; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #333333; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif;"><br /></span></p><br /></div>Carrie Van Hornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11715648073882529202noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7932765338654549270.post-21910225126917256522019-08-16T11:52:00.002-07:002019-08-16T11:52:46.471-07:00The Sucker Punch of Summer<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBTDGAiQUXB1T5noxG12fU61-Yt2p-e59O3DTCGMFIo8ehqf2VgiW9yDSn-MVVYnwhyphenhyphenTs14tkT5Iq_8OMHAQI6Jmt6ldss-xxTgeZJTzZN6sfzoXccY4fT-kQgSVbXmIeCqWn80vbW/s1600/SUMMER+FOR+BLOG.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="781" data-original-width="905" height="345" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBTDGAiQUXB1T5noxG12fU61-Yt2p-e59O3DTCGMFIo8ehqf2VgiW9yDSn-MVVYnwhyphenhyphenTs14tkT5Iq_8OMHAQI6Jmt6ldss-xxTgeZJTzZN6sfzoXccY4fT-kQgSVbXmIeCqWn80vbW/s400/SUMMER+FOR+BLOG.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
"Day Dream" Photography of Thomas Dodd</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Linking with Toni's wonderful <a href="https://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/2019/08/wednesday-muse-cicadas.html?showComment=1565981511185#c6170131891284584645">Wed Muse</a> ~Cicadas </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
She also gave the choice of writing about the end of summer, or rebirth. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Come join us!</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br style="background-color: #e5e5dd; color: #330000; font-family: georgia, "bookman old style", "palatino linotype", "book antiqua", palatino, "trebuchet ms", helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, "avante garde", "century gothic", "comic sans ms", times, "times new roman", serif; text-align: -webkit-left;" /><span style="background-color: #e5e5dd; color: #330000; font-family: georgia, "bookman old style", "palatino linotype", "book antiqua", palatino, "trebuchet ms", helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, "avante garde", "century gothic", "comic sans ms", times, "times new roman", serif; text-align: -webkit-left;">The sun tires of summer and sighs itself into autumn. ~Terri Guillemets</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: #e5e5dd; color: #330000; font-family: georgia, "bookman old style", "palatino linotype", "book antiqua", palatino, "trebuchet ms", helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, "avante garde", "century gothic", "comic sans ms", times, "times new roman", serif; text-align: -webkit-left;"><br /></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It almost feels like being strangled<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When the Texas summer heat takes hold<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It hits you like a drunken sailor<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
One gut punch after another<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
All you can do is lay down<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And try to recover<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Soon it will leave<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Slower than it barged in<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But then we can breathe a sigh of relief<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And pull out our sweaters <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And write outdoors in comfort.<o:p></o:p></div>
<span style="background-color: #e5e5dd; color: #330000; font-family: georgia, "bookman old style", "palatino linotype", "book antiqua", palatino, "trebuchet ms", helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, "avante garde", "century gothic", "comic sans ms", times, "times new roman", serif; text-align: -webkit-left;"></span></div>
Carrie Van Hornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11715648073882529202noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7932765338654549270.post-36928043908105460932019-05-11T10:03:00.000-07:002019-05-11T10:03:21.960-07:00Friends, Sisters, Mothers<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhS83hD1d0tTWngSZ-KuMYoN_rOP8p6NEZHY8SmDl6WLphtR4NCM-g3wmb4F1AYzTv4X7Z6rK4iMsHfY7XOEuy-dw596dP78BQLP0AEjtAw_9e63zPSgW_oqGvKOS2EAuukLLJq3ZZ/s1600/23794826_374470926340569_241849039336897426_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhS83hD1d0tTWngSZ-KuMYoN_rOP8p6NEZHY8SmDl6WLphtR4NCM-g3wmb4F1AYzTv4X7Z6rK4iMsHfY7XOEuy-dw596dP78BQLP0AEjtAw_9e63zPSgW_oqGvKOS2EAuukLLJq3ZZ/s320/23794826_374470926340569_241849039336897426_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Linda and me Christmas 2017</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: #e5e5dd; color: #330000; font-family: "georgia" , "bookman old style" , "palatino linotype" , "book antiqua" , "palatino" , "trebuchet ms" , "helvetica" , "garamond" , sans-serif , "arial" , "verdana" , "avante garde" , "century gothic" , "comic sans ms" , "times" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: -webkit-left;">Call it a clan, call it a network, call it a tribe, call it a family. Whatever you call it, whoever you are, you need one. ~Jane Howard</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: #e5e5dd; color: #330000; font-family: "georgia" , "bookman old style" , "palatino linotype" , "book antiqua" , "palatino" , "trebuchet ms" , "helvetica" , "garamond" , sans-serif , "arial" , "verdana" , "avante garde" , "century gothic" , "comic sans ms" , "times" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: -webkit-left;"><br /></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
When I first met my first husband’s ex-wife, Linda Keen
Thackeray, one could say the whole situation was quite complicated.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These kinds of meetings are always awkward,
filled with preconceived ideas, and hard feelings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No one is enthused to meet their ex’s new
love interest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was awkward, and it
did not get off to a perfect start, but in essence it was not all that
complicated, in fact it was quite simple.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It was the beginning of one of the most important relationships of my
life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
Once we got past the initial first couple of meetings, we
gradually developed a friendship.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When
she would bring the kids for the weekend, since we did not have a car at the
time, she would take me to the store, and we would discuss our mutual friend;
her ex, my boyfriend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It always led to
some laughter, and quite a few “Oh yes, I know exactly what you mean”
comments.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am certain that he was not
always over joyed over us spending time together, at least in the
beginning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He knew it meant he was the subject, and that
could probably be a bad thing for him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
As years passed, our relationship grew.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were not just simple friends, we were
family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had 3 children that looked to
us as parents.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course, she was Mom number
1, and the love of their lives, and I understand that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Being a very insecure person, it was not
always an easy fact for me to acknowledge, but through the years, I have
learned to embrace it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No one can ever
replace a true mom, and she has always been a wonderful one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
It has been 36 years since those first few meetings back in
1982.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We have been through some
wonderful times and some very devastating losses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She has been a true friend, a shoulder to cry
on, a listening ear and the true essence of what family truly is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We have truly defied the odds of what family means
and what can truly be successful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When
you have two people that are kind and caring then anything is possible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We have been blessed to see that first hand,
and it is a true gift that has passed from one generation to another.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
I love you Linda Keen!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Thank you for being a true friend, sister and the best co-mother ever!<o:p></o:p></div>
<span style="background-color: #e5e5dd; color: #330000; font-family: "georgia" , "bookman old style" , "palatino linotype" , "book antiqua" , "palatino" , "trebuchet ms" , "helvetica" , "garamond" , sans-serif , "arial" , "verdana" , "avante garde" , "century gothic" , "comic sans ms" , "times" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: -webkit-left;"></span></div>
Carrie Van Hornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11715648073882529202noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7932765338654549270.post-53719397991420709832019-04-17T12:01:00.000-07:002019-04-17T12:01:42.285-07:00Rocken' It<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLT0n0JRl1G3Wz8-6yfhFsgNuPtp_rMrYh5AvYIw2fu0wLWS4SYO54ESAuGu5_89ADsUR1FgW20J2eaqMT_j7UTT8r4KWAHhge8qMtFLoS8kEgtN46N3Bkw-Qg65AUK-w7bAyq9Tya/s1600/20190416_190318.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLT0n0JRl1G3Wz8-6yfhFsgNuPtp_rMrYh5AvYIw2fu0wLWS4SYO54ESAuGu5_89ADsUR1FgW20J2eaqMT_j7UTT8r4KWAHhge8qMtFLoS8kEgtN46N3Bkw-Qg65AUK-w7bAyq9Tya/s640/20190416_190318.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Linking with <a href="http://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/2019/04/the-wednesday-muse-4-busy-body.html#comment-form">Wed Muse # 4</a> for <a href="https://kanzensakura.wordpress.com/">Toni's </a>prompt ~Busy Body</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Today Toni is talking about being busy and asking us, what do we do to rest?</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Come join us!</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
“SOMETIMES, I GUESS THERE JUST AREN’T ENOUGH ROCKS.” ~ Forrest Gump<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Prologue <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have the good fortune to work at a library, but it is not
any ordinary library, it resides inside a beautiful botanical garden.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We provide different programs to the public
for all ages, and many of these are crafty fun projects that have to do with
nature.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Recently we had a rock painting
craft.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All my co-workers and I have
taken such a liking to it, most of us do it in our spare time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have found it to be quite relaxing!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Therefore, when I am home and in my comfy PJs
cause that is the only way I roll; comfortable, I sit at my second desk, a card
table in my writing/ art room, and paint rocks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I am not very good at it, but it does not seem to stop me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I love doing it anyway!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Naked with the beauty God gave you<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You lay before me<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Resting under my awkward grace<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My brush strokes you blue<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Until you are a true star<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You wink and give a kiss with rouge lips<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and my brush rests in
its dixie cup pool<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
now you dance upon eyes<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
cause you are ready to rock!<o:p></o:p></div>
<br /></div>
Carrie Van Hornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11715648073882529202noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7932765338654549270.post-85071203107728261232019-03-04T14:31:00.000-08:002019-03-04T14:31:59.341-08:00Greeting Harold<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuZZb1niWDsBJF0s15CEUfMvlXEq1KnvWT2dm59q9wT7AMnKd3QGVRU4e4bQeODBJWivC9_TphzAMWO7vL-HpMDJuklvNUCXgmZAJZ1XOx_8cJ_Bf2z2rBvr9rSMefAYmuqkHBr5Z1/s1600/Can-we-ever-rewrite-our-soul.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="675" data-original-width="1080" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuZZb1niWDsBJF0s15CEUfMvlXEq1KnvWT2dm59q9wT7AMnKd3QGVRU4e4bQeODBJWivC9_TphzAMWO7vL-HpMDJuklvNUCXgmZAJZ1XOx_8cJ_Bf2z2rBvr9rSMefAYmuqkHBr5Z1/s640/Can-we-ever-rewrite-our-soul.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://psykologenioslo.no/can-we-ever-rewrite-our-soul/">Image Source</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
Today I am writing a bit of prose for a wonderful new prompt
over at <a href="http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/2019/03/telling-tales-with-magaly-guerrero.html#comment-form">Poets United</a>: Telling Tales with <a href="https://magalysblog.blogspot.com/2019/03/lady-of-bones.html#comment-form">Magaly Guerrero</a> a Pantry of Prose #
1.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This prompt will post on the first
Sunday of every month, and Magaly wants us to put our prose on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We always have until Tuesday evening, so come
join us! <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
Greeting Harold,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
It was cold on earth where Willa waited for her next
assignment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Harold a Caucasian male with
46 earth years, was due to arrive any minute. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had been in a coma for weeks from head
trauma from a beating he endured in an alley way, but his time to enter the new
realm was today.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
Being a soul greeter was an important and delicate responsibility.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Willa in all her smallness of spirit had been
holding this great task for centuries, and at times it could seem overwhelming.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
Her last greeting was a lady named Loraine who was a lonely
soul with no family and her story was a sad one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She had become a hoarder; keeping everything
her hands touched. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ironically, she had
died from a fire in the night, trying to re-enter the home to salvage
everything she felt she could not live without.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It took quite a while before she was ready to move on to the other side.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
As Willa thought of Loraine she could see Harold edging before
her. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was a mirror image of his former body, yet
different, he appeared before her in all his knowing and confusion wrapped
together like braided hairs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Harold had
been a homeless man with nothing to his name including respect.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the hospital he had been John Doe # 37,
but now his identity was known.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Harold
L. Bowers, son of a senator, oldest brother, and a man who had been a lawyer
before he lost everything to addiction. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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“Greetings Harold”, she said as she reached out her spirit toward
his.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He fell into her like a weary man
plopping into the most comfortable chair he had ever known.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Willa’s spirit smiled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Most soul’s wanted to go back, and could not
bear to leave behind all they had known, but not Harold.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Willa found that greeting souls was always a
lesson in some way for the new arrival, but today the lesson was hers to hold.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Click <a href="http://thewordwhisperer2.blogspot.com/2017/08/sojourn.html#comment-form">HERE</a> to see the poem that inspired it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
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Carrie Van Hornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11715648073882529202noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7932765338654549270.post-42182073785012601672019-01-23T13:29:00.000-08:002019-03-02T11:02:03.892-08:00The Ripples in the Water Push Outward<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoZ43NparMONKgh9VjfsuAbqLzRzQPMRA-L1nBiNegxYXnCppXMBQMfxZWRDCxeTpLtwBAbRTFoALfYhj0aXhefidpolME4nTpRnNl_n2MiLUYWlR8RmyrkIK4SESQw7OcVE_TRHzo/s1600/23237fb4593521d7c18ce5e04a0d08b0+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="633" data-original-width="550" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoZ43NparMONKgh9VjfsuAbqLzRzQPMRA-L1nBiNegxYXnCppXMBQMfxZWRDCxeTpLtwBAbRTFoALfYhj0aXhefidpolME4nTpRnNl_n2MiLUYWlR8RmyrkIK4SESQw7OcVE_TRHzo/s640/23237fb4593521d7c18ce5e04a0d08b0+%25281%2529.jpg" width="556" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Digital artwork by Catrin Welz-Stein</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Linking with <a href="http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/2019/01/poets-united-midweek-motif-climate.html#comment-form">Poets United</a> for the Midweek Motif ~ Climate Change</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
brought to us by <a href="http://susanspoetry.blogspot.com/">Susan</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Come join us!</div>
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<br /></div>
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</div>
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<span style="color: #330000; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 107%;"><br />
<span style="background: #E5E5DD;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; float: none; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: -webkit-left; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">Never does nature say one thing and wisdom
another. ~Juvenal, </span><i style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: -webkit-left; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">Satires</i></span></span><o:p></o:p></div>
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Everything has an effect on something<o:p></o:p></div>
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The ripples in the water push outward<o:p></o:p></div>
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The sun can burn<o:p></o:p></div>
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Plants can die<o:p></o:p></div>
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The rain can flood<o:p></o:p></div>
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Trees swept away<o:p></o:p></div>
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The wind can destroy<o:p></o:p></div>
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What man has made<o:p></o:p></div>
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For cowardice can kill a man<o:p></o:p></div>
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And complacency can kill many<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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If the runners at the back try to run to the exit door, the
ones in front get trampled upon<o:p></o:p></div>
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The same is true for nature and man<o:p></o:p></div>
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If the ones that came before us do not think about our existence<o:p></o:p></div>
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Then the ones that come later will reap the affects in some
way<o:p></o:p></div>
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Everything we do has an outcome<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The ripples in the water push outward<o:p></o:p></div>
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Be it good or be it bad<o:p></o:p></div>
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All things must be considered<o:p></o:p></div>
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And nothing left to chance<o:p></o:p></div>
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</div>
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The future is in our hands!<o:p></o:p></div>
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</div>
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<span style="color: #330000; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="background: #E5E5DD;"><i style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: -webkit-left; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></i></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #330000; font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="background: #E5E5DD;"><i style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: -webkit-left; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"></i></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">©</span><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Carrie Van Horn</span> <span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">2019<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
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Carrie Van Hornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11715648073882529202noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7932765338654549270.post-7135131501508143552018-09-04T17:17:00.000-07:002019-03-02T11:01:49.433-08:00The Gift of Sight<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-9WTR6jwdHOB-FeSwkezKsDdyfWb6jyIovmVL5cnfJa2Ky3rrwS-2FX_DzvXJp5BS2w_R-GLck6xCShDXOl1B43Z00aJ0tPSWPr95jUuChAGKvqupAqIkcwM2IfJt-13euU2NuRtX/s1600/9113397+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="790" data-original-width="800" height="632" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-9WTR6jwdHOB-FeSwkezKsDdyfWb6jyIovmVL5cnfJa2Ky3rrwS-2FX_DzvXJp5BS2w_R-GLck6xCShDXOl1B43Z00aJ0tPSWPr95jUuChAGKvqupAqIkcwM2IfJt-13euU2NuRtX/s640/9113397+%25281%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
"Girl on the Boat" by William Oxer<br />
<br />
<br />
Linking with <a href="https://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/">Poets United</a> for the Mid Week Motif ~ Charity, and <a href="https://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/">The Sunday Muse</a> for Muse # 19<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #330000; font-family: "georgia" , "bookman old style" , "palatino linotype" , "book antiqua" , "palatino" , "trebuchet ms" , "helvetica" , "garamond" , sans-serif , "arial" , "verdana" , "avante garde" , "century gothic" , "comic sans ms" , "times" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: -webkit-left;"><b>The Brain – is wider than the Sky </b></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #330000; font-family: "georgia" , "bookman old style" , "palatino linotype" , "book antiqua" , "palatino" , "trebuchet ms" , "helvetica" , "garamond" , sans-serif , "arial" , "verdana" , "avante garde" , "century gothic" , "comic sans ms" , "times" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: -webkit-left;"><b>~Emily Dickinson</b></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #330000; font-family: "georgia" , "bookman old style" , "palatino linotype" , "book antiqua" , "palatino" , "trebuchet ms" , "helvetica" , "garamond" , sans-serif , "arial" , "verdana" , "avante garde" , "century gothic" , "comic sans ms" , "times" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: -webkit-left;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #330000; font-family: "georgia" , "bookman old style" , "palatino linotype" , "book antiqua" , "palatino" , "trebuchet ms" , "helvetica" , "garamond" , sans-serif , "arial" , "verdana" , "avante garde" , "century gothic" , "comic sans ms" , "times" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: -webkit-left;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #330000; font-family: "georgia" , "bookman old style" , "palatino linotype" , "book antiqua" , "palatino" , "trebuchet ms" , "helvetica" , "garamond" , sans-serif , "arial" , "verdana" , "avante garde" , "century gothic" , "comic sans ms" , "times" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: -webkit-left;"></span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #330000; font-family: "georgia" , "bookman old style" , "palatino linotype" , "book antiqua" , "palatino" , "trebuchet ms" , "helvetica" , "garamond" , sans-serif , "arial" , "verdana" , "avante garde" , "century gothic" , "comic sans ms" , "times" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: -webkit-left;">The first time I saw her it was at the Smith’s Cafe 2 miles
from the marina.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It took me 3 texts, two
eggs over easy, and most of my coffee before I realized she was blind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She reached out and was touching the face of
the man beside her, who I thought must have been a husband or dear friend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At first I thought it was a moment of
endearment but when she rose to walk away I realized her eyes looked passed him
like head lights on high beam reaching to the farthest point.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her hand rested on his shoulder as she
followed his lead around the tables and out the door so trustingly like it was
a dance she had done a million times before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The vision of it was imprinted on my heart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could never trust another person that way.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #330000; font-family: "georgia" , "bookman old style" , "palatino linotype" , "book antiqua" , "palatino" , "trebuchet ms" , "helvetica" , "garamond" , sans-serif , "arial" , "verdana" , "avante garde" , "century gothic" , "comic sans ms" , "times" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: -webkit-left;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #330000; font-family: "georgia" , "bookman old style" , "palatino linotype" , "book antiqua" , "palatino" , "trebuchet ms" , "helvetica" , "garamond" , sans-serif , "arial" , "verdana" , "avante garde" , "century gothic" , "comic sans ms" , "times" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: -webkit-left;">
</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #330000; font-family: "georgia" , "bookman old style" , "palatino linotype" , "book antiqua" , "palatino" , "trebuchet ms" , "helvetica" , "garamond" , sans-serif , "arial" , "verdana" , "avante garde" , "century gothic" , "comic sans ms" , "times" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: -webkit-left;">The second time I saw her was at the botanic gardens.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She had a white cane, and seemed to know
exactly where she was going down those stone walk way steps.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I found myself following her in
fascination.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She had more confidence in
her steps than I ever have.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How could
someone with such limits be so sure and determined on their path?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I stayed behind her all the way to Dove
Meadow Lake.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For a while I felt incline
to stop her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Did she not realize she was
heading to open waters?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To my astonishment
she made it all the way to the dock.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Mam,
excuse me Mam?” I called out with a certain urgency.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She stopped slowly like a long train.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Charity”, she spoke out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Charity?” I recited back, not sure what she
was implying.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Charity Johnson” she
added, “My name is Charity!” “Oh hi Charity I just wanted to make sure you did not
step off into the water.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“God has my
back, and my ears have my eyes, but thank you” she said with a deliberate
politeness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As she spoke the words she
also stepped into the boat at the end of the dock. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="color: #330000; font-family: "georgia" , "bookman old style" , "palatino linotype" , "book antiqua" , "palatino" , "trebuchet ms" , "helvetica" , "garamond" , sans-serif , "arial" , "verdana" , "avante garde" , "century gothic" , "comic sans ms" , "times" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: -webkit-left;"><span style="background-color: white;">
</span></span>
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<span style="color: #330000; font-family: "georgia" , "bookman old style" , "palatino linotype" , "book antiqua" , "palatino" , "trebuchet ms" , "helvetica" , "garamond" , sans-serif , "arial" , "verdana" , "avante garde" , "century gothic" , "comic sans ms" , "times" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: -webkit-left;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></span></div>
<span style="color: #330000; font-family: "georgia" , "bookman old style" , "palatino linotype" , "book antiqua" , "palatino" , "trebuchet ms" , "helvetica" , "garamond" , sans-serif , "arial" , "verdana" , "avante garde" , "century gothic" , "comic sans ms" , "times" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: -webkit-left;">
</span>
<br />
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<span style="color: #330000; font-family: "georgia" , "bookman old style" , "palatino linotype" , "book antiqua" , "palatino" , "trebuchet ms" , "helvetica" , "garamond" , sans-serif , "arial" , "verdana" , "avante garde" , "century gothic" , "comic sans ms" , "times" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: -webkit-left;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All the while I had
followed closer and closer behind her, and almost lost my composure when she
got right into the boat like it was a common task in her day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I stood by the lake for a while, bewildered
and silent, when suddenly her voice called out, “would you like to join me?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“In the boat?” I asked, certain it sounded even
worse spoken out loud.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Of course” she
replied with a smile that I could almost hear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“Ok”, was my final answer as I carefully stepped down beside her, and
for the rest of the afternoon I was her eyes, and truly she was also mine!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: #e5e5dd;"><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #330000; font-family: "georgia" , "bookman old style" , "palatino linotype" , "book antiqua" , "palatino" , "trebuchet ms" , "helvetica" , "garamond" , sans-serif , "arial" , "verdana" , "avante garde" , "century gothic" , "comic sans ms" , "times" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: -webkit-left;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="color: #330000; font-family: "georgia" , "bookman old style" , "palatino linotype" , "book antiqua" , "palatino" , "trebuchet ms" , "helvetica" , "garamond" , sans-serif , "arial" , "verdana" , "avante garde" , "century gothic" , "comic sans ms" , "times" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: -webkit-left;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">©</span><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Carrie Van Horn</span> <span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">2019<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
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</span></div>
</div>
Carrie Van Hornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11715648073882529202noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7932765338654549270.post-14798739790887582792018-07-31T17:35:00.003-07:002019-03-02T11:00:10.855-08:00True Grit True Pearls True Beauty<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-R1jiSQ5CG7b2ik1igpSkNnOwvOUmHgouZsXp35pnQOjlX01JqF77Zl8e2IQgRnc3DsCgOJ-UtzpwBY39t0LZqWugODYtrEsnKz0y3NwGOqlswyFO4VYPL167tiZJuHwTVWGrqS1y/s1600/tdy_news_wallace_barbara_bush_180416_1920x1080.today-vid-canonical-featured-desktop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="586" data-original-width="1042" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-R1jiSQ5CG7b2ik1igpSkNnOwvOUmHgouZsXp35pnQOjlX01JqF77Zl8e2IQgRnc3DsCgOJ-UtzpwBY39t0LZqWugODYtrEsnKz0y3NwGOqlswyFO4VYPL167tiZJuHwTVWGrqS1y/s400/tdy_news_wallace_barbara_bush_180416_1920x1080.today-vid-canonical-featured-desktop.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<i>"At the end of your life, you will never regret not having passed one more test, not winning one more verdict or not closing one more deal. You will regret time not spent with a husband, a friend, a child or a parent."</i></div>
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<b>~ Barbara Pierce Bush June 8, 1926 - April 17, 2018</b></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Her life had such an impact on many some near and others far</div>
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like a stone cast upon a river that ripples out</div>
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from one generation to another and heart to heart</div>
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<br /></div>
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We knew her our whole lives a figure in papers and on the TV screen</div>
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always upholding honesty and integrity a giver and mentor to hopes and dreams</div>
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<br /></div>
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She will be missed greatly but her legacy is alive and ever strong</div>
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for when one gives and teaches so many</div>
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it shall inspire for decades and centuries long.</div>
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<br /></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">©</span><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Carrie Van Horn</span> <span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">2019<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Carrie Van Hornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11715648073882529202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7932765338654549270.post-26965150885713778442018-07-09T11:32:00.000-07:002019-03-02T10:56:28.262-08:00Meaningful Conversations <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFXmfbHJM9RUjXprcAcJ_g91ntuFWK6mPNSvdxFFLh2JoERn1XZPj_A82C0VK45lFXc1P4XSfUccfEAPG6Zm2tkUQ1POLYwF8_q9kzas4HiYi0fHmJq0nG1ZOO8pvi866XkPkOma_Y/s1600/7ee685fb622e434173dc2af29c7efc0f.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="599" data-original-width="400" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFXmfbHJM9RUjXprcAcJ_g91ntuFWK6mPNSvdxFFLh2JoERn1XZPj_A82C0VK45lFXc1P4XSfUccfEAPG6Zm2tkUQ1POLYwF8_q9kzas4HiYi0fHmJq0nG1ZOO8pvi866XkPkOma_Y/s640/7ee685fb622e434173dc2af29c7efc0f.jpg" width="425" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/scarroll99/17162732936">Photo Credit</a></div>
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Linking with<a href="http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/"> Imaginary Gardens</a> for the Tuesday Platform and <a href="https://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/">The Sunday Muse</a><br />
Come join us!<br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #330000; font-family: "georgia" , "bookman old style" , "palatino linotype" , "book antiqua" , "palatino" , "trebuchet ms" , "helvetica" , "garamond" , sans-serif , "arial" , "verdana" , "avante garde" , "century gothic" , "comic sans ms" , "times" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: -webkit-left;"><b>Ideas, like ghosts (according to the common notion of ghosts), must be spoken to a little before they will explain themselves... ~Charles Dickens</b></span><br />
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I never believed in ghosts as a child<br />
even though my grandmother seemed to<br />
have meaningful conversations with them<br />
I told God early "never give me that gift!"<br />
as if it was something that I had a say in<br />
now that I am older<br />
I long for the proof of it<br />
a glimpse of something unseen<br />
a testimony that is louder<br />
than the possible vague siting<br />
on some show on TV<br />
I dare you to walk through me<br />
wake me up at night<br />
with the moan from a thousand lost cares<br />
speak to me<br />
I will listen<br />
I will believe now<br />
your story will live on<br />
and it will be true poetry.<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">©</span><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Carrie Van Horn</span> <span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">2019<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Carrie Van Hornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11715648073882529202noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7932765338654549270.post-39656307434623857062017-10-11T11:53:00.000-07:002017-10-11T12:01:07.433-07:00A Lovely Poet<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTfvzvGIKr6k7vjveilx8cmYJtSZblAY0P1OK8Abue75U2Z76QZgGd91WDhNkXGqKgW2khyUpyV1V9ah7Gmk0AV-q86K5DQulezPyBQpw82qc-C5VbzHkM6cqL4xGDzn6rmwEb2KCO/s1600/1344490164661849.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="333" data-original-width="500" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTfvzvGIKr6k7vjveilx8cmYJtSZblAY0P1OK8Abue75U2Z76QZgGd91WDhNkXGqKgW2khyUpyV1V9ah7Gmk0AV-q86K5DQulezPyBQpw82qc-C5VbzHkM6cqL4xGDzn6rmwEb2KCO/s400/1344490164661849.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #330000; font-family: "georgia" , "bookman old style" , "palatino linotype" , "book antiqua" , "palatino" , "trebuchet ms" , "helvetica" , "garamond" , sans-serif , "arial" , "verdana" , "avante garde" , "century gothic" , "comic sans ms" , "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Courtesy Google Images</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #330000; font-family: "georgia" , "bookman old style" , "palatino linotype" , "book antiqua" , "palatino" , "trebuchet ms" , "helvetica" , "garamond" , sans-serif , "arial" , "verdana" , "avante garde" , "century gothic" , "comic sans ms" , "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #330000; font-family: "georgia" , "bookman old style" , "palatino linotype" , "book antiqua" , "palatino" , "trebuchet ms" , "helvetica" , "garamond" , sans-serif , "arial" , "verdana" , "avante garde" , "century gothic" , "comic sans ms" , "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Autumn writes her own poetry,</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #330000; font-family: "georgia" , "bookman old style" , "palatino linotype" , "book antiqua" , "palatino" , "trebuchet ms" , "helvetica" , "garamond" , sans-serif , "arial" , "verdana" , "avante garde" , "century gothic" , "comic sans ms" , "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">we are merely observers.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #330000; font-family: "georgia" , "bookman old style" , "palatino linotype" , "book antiqua" , "palatino" , "trebuchet ms" , "helvetica" , "garamond" , sans-serif , "arial" , "verdana" , "avante garde" , "century gothic" , "comic sans ms" , "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">~Terri Guillemets</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #330000; font-family: "georgia" , "bookman old style" , "palatino linotype" , "book antiqua" , "palatino" , "trebuchet ms" , "helvetica" , "garamond" , sans-serif , "arial" , "verdana" , "avante garde" , "century gothic" , "comic sans ms" , "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #330000; font-family: "georgia" , "bookman old style" , "palatino linotype" , "book antiqua" , "palatino" , "trebuchet ms" , "helvetica" , "garamond" , sans-serif , "arial" , "verdana" , "avante garde" , "century gothic" , "comic sans ms" , "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #330000; font-family: "georgia" , "bookman old style" , "palatino linotype" , "book antiqua" , "palatino" , "trebuchet ms" , "helvetica" , "garamond" , sans-serif , "arial" , "verdana" , "avante garde" , "century gothic" , "comic sans ms" , "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Click <a href="http://thewordwhisperer2.blogspot.com/2017/10/i-fall-in-love-with-fall.html">here</a> for more about Autumn</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #330000; font-family: "georgia" , "bookman old style" , "palatino linotype" , "book antiqua" , "palatino" , "trebuchet ms" , "helvetica" , "garamond" , sans-serif , "arial" , "verdana" , "avante garde" , "century gothic" , "comic sans ms" , "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #330000; font-family: "georgia" , "bookman old style" , "palatino linotype" , "book antiqua" , "palatino" , "trebuchet ms" , "helvetica" , "garamond" , sans-serif , "arial" , "verdana" , "avante garde" , "century gothic" , "comic sans ms" , "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">(Yes you are being sent on a wild goose chase!)</span></div>
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Carrie Van Hornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11715648073882529202noreply@blogger.com1