tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-132643672011-12-21T00:25:41.092-05:00These poems were written based on pictures. I have not included the original picture links with the words. Most can stand on their own without them. To see the pictures, go to <a href="http://moontownpic.blogspot.com/">Photographic Inspiration</a>.Vickiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08573890783110046304noreply@blogger.comBlogger631100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13264367.post-1160966741962867902006-10-15T22:44:00.000-04:002006-10-15T22:45:41.980-04:00

A fine crochet or tatted lace--stitches fade with age.The shawl, once beautifulin its delicacy, disintegratesinto nothingness.

Vickiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08573890783110046304noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13264367.post-1160017688422559992006-10-04T23:05:00.000-04:002006-10-04T23:08:08.433-04:00

I reach for somethingthat doesn't exist.Even though it seemslike I've got it,I'm eluded once again.Maybe I wasn't meantto capture that moment.Maybe that moment and youdon't really exist.It wouldn't be life, though,if we didn't try.

Vickiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08573890783110046304noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13264367.post-1157427840515661282006-09-04T23:42:00.000-04:002006-09-04T23:44:00.526-04:00

The water clings to the bladesas surely as I've stuck to you.Gather all of the droplets togetherand you'll receive onlya much larger puddle.Assemble the pieces of meand find something much different.Take our combined memoriesand call them a life. The grassonly holds so many mysteries.

Vickiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08573890783110046304noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13264367.post-1151267852404421332006-06-25T16:37:00.000-04:002006-06-25T16:37:32.416-04:00

summer oasiscool metal and water spoutmuch needed respite

Vickiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08573890783110046304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13264367.post-1134320217933394092005-12-11T11:54:00.000-05:002005-12-11T11:56:57.946-05:00

The genie suffusedin rainbow of spring colorsmeditates our lives.

Vickiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08573890783110046304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13264367.post-1133709654701022472005-12-04T10:16:00.000-05:002005-12-04T10:20:54.713-05:00

Distortion creates illusionssince things are not what they seem.Properly placed blurs permit us to see a headless horseas he races along waterwith the others.

Vickiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08573890783110046304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13264367.post-1132881130165662402005-11-24T20:03:00.000-05:002005-11-27T12:19:27.716-05:00

My pets never were the kind to turn tail and hide. Theylet everyone they met know they meant business. Theywere the terrors of the shadowsand masters of the neighborhood,especially Blackie...He always deserved a bettername, but Blackie stuck to himlike ink to paper. The kidscouldn't say the other names.Blackie was a beast in his ownright, but he never lost temperwith the kids or me.He behaved

Vickiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08573890783110046304noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13264367.post-1132500570523805242005-11-20T10:24:00.000-05:002005-11-20T10:29:30.536-05:00

The sidewalk joins me as I make my walk home.It keeps me companywith its shadowsso I am never alone.Even those shadowsare familiar to mesince I see themeach time I returnhome after school.We play games."X" marks the startof the final stretchand I know someoneis waiting for me.

Vickiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08573890783110046304noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13264367.post-1131900487565717812005-11-13T11:41:00.000-05:002005-11-13T11:48:07.586-05:00

She's beautiful in her innocence.As she holds her glass of milkand looks out at us, a tree blocksour view of the totality.As much as we can't see, we still knowher sweetness and wholesomeness as evidenced by the colors she wearsand the simplicity of her hairstyle.She will blossom into a beauty and that white liquid will make her strong. And, next time we see her,some of that innocence will be

Vickiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08573890783110046304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13264367.post-1130988126378843702005-11-02T22:11:00.000-05:002005-11-02T22:22:06.396-05:00

Faces, wrapped in plastic,distort the features of puritythat molded plastic emphasizes.Use Saran Wrap to cover imperfectionsonly noticeable when presents open.Such extremes created by man.The same material, vastly different,shrouds my soul mate and gives usan eerie appearance when viewed as intended.Scare the children away. No treats here.(55 words, btw)

Vickiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08573890783110046304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13264367.post-1130183747451530992005-10-24T15:52:00.000-04:002005-10-24T15:55:47.456-04:00

The day's warmth calls meto find respite from the heat.A drinking fountainoffers solace to my thirstas well as my aching feet.

Vickiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08573890783110046304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13264367.post-1129517302821333442005-10-16T22:40:00.000-04:002005-10-17T16:47:14.496-04:00

Patterns are repeatedthroughout our complicated lives.They are the designs we choosefor fencing as well as the mapthat defines our relationships.Everything is connected--we just need to understandhow the network works.Sometimes, color marsthe perfection and our vision.The path we've chosenis diagramed for us,but the alternate routesare always more inviting.Even then, what is behindthe gridwork is

Vickiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08573890783110046304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13264367.post-1128281846970813522005-10-02T15:30:00.000-04:002005-10-02T15:37:26.970-04:00

Open this door only if you're sure.Unknown portals can lead to wholedifferent dimensions and dementia.You may think your mind is intact,but once on the other side, you'llnever know for sure. Is it you?Step into the unknown and testyour stability. Find your way backto the familiar, to safety. Ventureout alone only if you don't carewhen and how you return. You may not.Open the door and let me

Vickiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08573890783110046304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13264367.post-1128278986550183502005-10-02T14:45:00.000-04:002005-10-02T15:29:56.480-04:00

Circular patternsmark the floorwhere we used to waitfor the headmaster.It got to be a gameto stay outside the circle, muchlike avoiding cracksin the sidewalk.It helps to passthe time beforewe meet our fate.

Vickiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08573890783110046304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13264367.post-1127069614759704182005-09-18T14:48:00.000-04:002005-09-19T16:49:53.310-04:00

"X" marks the spotwhere I peek at the world.A bird perches betweenme and the world.Reflections blend my imageinto my surroundings.I can watch, my chinresting on the sill. I canobserve activity below without giving myself away.I mark the spot betterby constant reminderthat people live behind these walls,windows look outas well as in.

Vickiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08573890783110046304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13264367.post-1126749623117269702005-09-14T21:56:00.000-04:002005-09-14T22:00:23.123-04:00

Shadows lengthenas I am mesmerizedby the stones emblazonedwith your memory.My eyes have long since driedbut the ache within my beingpersists after all this time.The void has never been filled.I would offer you flowersor some small tokenbut the gesture would meanmore to others than you.Instead, I'll leave youwith my prayers and hopethat your suffering endedwhen you slept that last time.

Vickiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08573890783110046304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13264367.post-1126389545593855522005-09-10T17:57:00.000-04:002005-09-10T17:59:05.600-04:00

The kitchen sink restsatop other odd castoffsawaiting new home

Vickiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08573890783110046304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13264367.post-1125366193536023972005-08-29T21:38:00.000-04:002005-09-04T22:57:37.813-04:00

He peers into the fishing net--proud to have caught somethingyet afraid of what he snared.He tentatively lifts his prizeat arms length and holds his breathas curiosity gets the better of him.For shallow water, his catch is large.He's tempted to throw it back.The thrill was only in the hunt.

Vickiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08573890783110046304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13264367.post-1124760636468522512005-08-22T21:22:00.000-04:002005-08-22T21:30:36.476-04:00

As the fog begins to clear,I can see others helping to rebuild the hillside.By degrees of visibility,the early-morning silenceis broken in hushed greetings.As the light becomes stronger,memories of the brush firediminish; plants refresh dirt.My own load is shared by anotheras sympathetic to nature's rapeas I. We work the soil together.

Vickiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08573890783110046304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13264367.post-1123550470202974712005-08-08T21:15:00.000-04:002005-08-08T21:21:10.206-04:00

I canvass the samenesswith patience and skill.I seek the differencesin the similarities that will frame the worlda masterpiece.My hands hold steadywhile my eyes explorethrough the camera lens.There is a focal pointin this cobweb of lines--my shutter will find it.

Vickiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08573890783110046304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13264367.post-1122864578895024792005-07-31T22:40:00.000-04:002005-07-31T22:49:38.900-04:00

We were inseparable.We three always found something to doeven if there was nothing available.We had a good time just being together.Laughter, tears, and wisdom came and wentamong and between us. Even a rocky pathcould lead to fascination at our age.No one could tell us differently.The day we learned that our three wouldbe reduced to two and one, we cried.It was not possible that a move

Vickiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08573890783110046304noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13264367.post-1122345614508316272005-07-25T22:39:00.000-04:002005-07-26T17:13:29.683-04:00

Overgrown and unkempt,a solitary chair calls to me.Amid the brush and bramble,I can submit to nature.Untouched by caring hands,the chair marks the spotwhere time knows onlythe shift in shadows.Simple disregard promptsmy comfort on so manylonely afternoons. Isit and daydream there.One day, this forgottenparcel will be rememberedand be razed of its attraction.Until then, I shall remain.

Vickiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08573890783110046304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13264367.post-1121826311315005352005-07-19T22:11:00.000-04:002005-07-19T22:25:11.326-04:00

Rocks, a frog humping a turtle,asume their positions permanentlyalong the shore. Would it were Iwho shared that vantage point.I stare out to sea where waterand sky meet and seek that joiningfor myself...and you, of course,since that requires anotherchance to have magic infiltratemy nights at the junction of hard and wet. Like rocksand water, like you and meI seek a oneness with natureand man

Vickiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08573890783110046304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13264367.post-1121016722326986062005-07-10T13:21:00.000-04:002005-07-10T13:32:02.330-04:00

A never-ending cycle of laundrylitters my back porch only to remindme of the joys of apartment living.The shadows of my unmentionables,though, provide shade for those timesI need to escape to the outdoors.I can stand, screened by tshirts,in relative privacy against lingeringgazes of lonely neighbors in windows.This is my oasis, sad as it looks.I take refuge from confined spacesand spy on the

Vickiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08573890783110046304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13264367.post-1120429242344851212005-07-03T18:16:00.000-04:002005-07-03T18:20:42.346-04:00

The sun sets bronzeon ghost-white skin.Leave my color healthyas my body protectsitself from the waves--attractive in summer.Solar waves reproducedand packaged in a machine--no burn from overexposureand safer all around.Artificial sun tans in privacy of my own booth.

Vickiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08573890783110046304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13264367.post-1119906076822647322005-06-27T17:00:00.000-04:002005-06-27T17:01:16.826-04:00

The shadow knows, grows, and watches.He lengthens as the daylight lingers.Shapes converge with time.Beware of the darkness in the light.The shadow pursues mercilessly.Safety comes slowly at sunset.

Vickiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08573890783110046304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13264367.post-1119495585278967672005-06-22T22:59:00.000-04:002005-06-22T22:59:45.283-04:00

Corners for noses and to cut, never the greatest place to be.That footprint reminds meof how we back ourselves into impossible places.

Vickiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08573890783110046304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13264367.post-1118615730865967202005-06-12T18:26:00.000-04:002005-06-12T18:35:30.870-04:00

Footprints start in the middleof nowhere and move single-fileaway from center. Makes mewonder if matching footprintswere mastered or if the snowcaught someone asleep in the tree.Most likely, the drifts had wandered only halfwayup the hill and obliteratedtraces of human visitation.Nature has a way of trivializingthe forces of man. One existsand one does not.

Vickiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08573890783110046304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13264367.post-1117406276571406912005-05-27T18:37:00.000-04:002005-05-29T18:37:56.573-04:00

I slink into the shadowsof the "no parking" zoneto escape the medleyof people that paradethe fairgrounds. From my vantage point,under the loading dock,I watch dozens of legsand feet pass by in cloudsof fabric and flesh. I spy my mother's guazeatop pale legs, bare toes. They turn a complete circleas if in search of something...she won't find me.

Vickiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08573890783110046304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13264367.post-1117406331612896052005-05-17T18:38:00.000-04:002005-05-29T18:38:51.613-04:00

The neighborhood isn't Eden. It is not much more than a glorifiedtrailer park of preachy people.It is my home, though.I'd move in a flash if I could, but I'd miss my mountains. How many people can claim peaks close enough to touch? When life gets me black and blue,I strike out toward the summitand allow myself to be swallowedin nature's perspective. It works every time.Yeah, I'd miss my mountains.

Vickiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08573890783110046304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13264367.post-1117406378328834382005-05-09T18:39:00.000-04:002005-05-29T18:39:38.330-04:00

It was dark by the time you were ready to leave.We stood in the driveway, talked about nothing.I watched my feet shuffle rather than look at you.We'd been so close for so many years; and now you're moving, leaving me behind.Since I am the older of us, I should have left first;I was just too comfortable where I was.I don't know how to tell you how much I'll miss you;so I just punch your arm until

Vickiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08573890783110046304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13264367.post-1117406450479121612005-05-02T18:40:00.000-04:002005-05-29T18:40:50.480-04:00

The three mouseketeers,made of snow, were a fun-loving trio--and adorable too.They graced the lawnwith their silly grinsand sparkled wetlyin the winter light.They danced longinto the yuletideand swept the youngoff their feet.As the weather turned,they had extra happy tearsas they sank into themselvesinto a pile of scarves.

Vickiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08573890783110046304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13264367.post-1117405991482584322005-04-30T18:32:00.000-04:002005-05-29T18:33:11.483-04:00

My first roller coaster ride,some million years ago,was a rickety one at best.It was also the most thrillingday of my life, I’ve neverforgotten the World’s Fair.Everyone was dressed in their Sunday best.We behaved like the ladiesand gentlemen we were.We had cars, telephones,and now the roller coaster.We saw strange contraptionsthat dealt with something calledelectricity. Only a few knew what it

Vickiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08573890783110046304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13264367.post-1117405952649846992005-04-29T18:31:00.000-04:002005-05-29T18:32:32.650-04:00

He spreads his feathers and struts his colorful fanfare. She's simply not interested and ignores him. For all of his watercolor ways, she will decide if and when. When the time does come, the mating call will tell us.

Vickiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08573890783110046304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13264367.post-1117405911208646812005-04-28T18:31:00.000-04:002005-05-29T18:31:51.210-04:00

He's a creature of habit.Stickers adorn his lunchand tell stories about him--where he's been and who he's seen.Mom still makes him soupto fill the thermos within.Only his forbidding staturekeeps others from mockinghis childish carrier.

Vickiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08573890783110046304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13264367.post-1117405881994472392005-04-27T18:30:00.000-04:002005-05-29T18:31:21.993-04:00

I get a perverse sense of pleasure window shopping. I eye-fondle all of the goodies I don't have and won't buy but would love if I could. This time, I spy Madonna in bright lights and leather. hmm...

Vickiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08573890783110046304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13264367.post-1117405826899848272005-04-26T18:29:00.000-04:002005-05-29T18:30:26.900-04:00

Anchor me tightly;the sea is getting rougher.Keep me close and safe.

Vickiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08573890783110046304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13264367.post-1117405440296981132005-04-25T18:23:00.000-04:002005-05-29T18:24:00.296-04:00

They say you should have all of your ducks in a row. These ducks won't cooperate! They prance around as if they know they're cute. They're slow as the dickens too. I suppose this mean I'm to be ill prepared for now; these ducks are smarter than me.

Vickiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08573890783110046304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13264367.post-1117405290165888072005-04-24T20:20:00.000-04:002005-05-29T18:21:30.166-04:00

Stark landscape, in shades of grey, fill my mind. Sea and sky marry-- a continuation of each other. Branches reach out to help free us of this oppression.

Vickiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08573890783110046304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13264367.post-1117405187277826452005-04-23T19:19:00.000-04:002005-05-29T18:19:47.276-04:00

The artist's canvass takes many forms. The world is his paintbrush; and nature, his palette. The chance to create something beautiful vies with the desire to leave our mark. Time and circumstance permit what they will. Satisfaction is not always guaranteed.

Vickiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08573890783110046304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13264367.post-1117404196897137852005-04-22T21:02:00.000-04:002005-05-29T18:03:16.896-04:00

They call them doughnuts-- round objects with holes in the center. Only, these are non-edible. Small and compact cars have teeny weeny trunks about the size of a suitcase. These suitcases hold only bare necessities--like a spare tire. Only, they aren't tires at all; they are limited-distance, non-dunkable doughnuts! Coffee not included.

Vickiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08573890783110046304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13264367.post-1117404159697403702005-04-21T21:02:00.000-04:002005-05-29T18:02:39.696-04:00

A mere shadow of you is all that is left of us. I remember your form, not your features. Even your pictures, carefully framed with love, have become images of a distant stranger. When a man's shadow crosses my peripheral path, I think fondly of times we had. I miss the idea of a man-- not you.

Vickiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08573890783110046304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13264367.post-1117404117152710992005-04-20T21:01:00.000-04:002005-05-29T18:01:57.153-04:00

Mine, half the size of yours and just as dark, work just as well to cover half the distance. I told you before that bigger wasn't better; now, slow down so I can keep up. My little guys are working twice as hard as yours!

Vickiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08573890783110046304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13264367.post-1117404073877362822005-04-19T21:00:00.000-04:002005-05-29T18:01:13.876-04:00

The phone booth near the corner is so brightly lit that it allows me to hide in plain sight. The glow of the solitary bulb casts a glare on the shadow of my being. I can no longer afford to pay the surcharge for hearing your voice in the comfort and privacy of my home. Since you left, I can barely afford my home. I must forget the resonance of your words and you. The warmth of the lonely confines

Vickiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08573890783110046304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13264367.post-1117403981114978762005-04-18T17:59:00.000-04:002005-05-29T17:59:41.113-04:00

unsightly wires mar smooth inter-connected points when I upward gaze

Vickiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08573890783110046304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13264367.post-1117403949796032502005-04-17T20:58:00.000-04:002005-05-29T17:59:09.796-04:00

Our shoes are on the patio a little worse for wear placed on the stump for safety and nearly forgotten there The water is so tempting so early in the year we just had to take the plung with gins from ear to ear After our swim, we ran around a wet and soggy pair the sun and grass dried us some summer in the air When it was time to go on home we ran ahead and back never thought of our shoes again

Vickiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08573890783110046304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13264367.post-1117403889889937612005-04-16T17:57:00.000-04:002005-05-29T17:58:09.890-04:00

My basket is empty; it sits in a nearly barren field. Unyielding steel, stone, and wood are this day's companions. Sparse grasses may hide some long-ago secrets; it seems unlikely. Yet, I must hurry and look; this destitution leaves me hungry for words and possessions. I only hope to uncover some forgotten memories to place in my lonely cart and complete my thoughts.

Vickiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08573890783110046304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13264367.post-1117403863256968242005-04-15T17:57:00.000-04:002005-05-29T17:57:43.256-04:00

The picture wasn't so perfect after Mom threw her dinner at it. She was furious with me and struck out at the wall rather than throwing me out. It was her favorite image of her not-so-precious angels. Hopefully, we can salvage our faces and maybe make Mom love us again some day.

Vickiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08573890783110046304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13264367.post-1117403826168863362005-04-14T17:56:00.000-04:002005-05-29T17:57:06.166-04:00

The patterns on my hands match that of my dress. They're almost the same color, too. I suppose I shouldn't complain much since they still house my rings and continue to work most days. The hospital bracelet isn't all what I'm used to. My jewelry shined brighter than my eyes when I was younger. That seems like a lifetime ago. My clothes were nicer then too. And my skin, I could go on forever... ..

Vickiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08573890783110046304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13264367.post-1117403787377836912005-04-13T17:55:00.000-04:002005-05-29T17:56:27.376-04:00

The road winds along the beach and takes me further away from yesterday. Then, we were everything and more until you raised your hand and I left. Now, I will get as far away as I can-- from the memories of you and of us.

Vickiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08573890783110046304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13264367.post-1117403749566562432005-04-12T17:55:00.000-04:002005-05-29T17:55:49.566-04:00

Unique creature, mystifies us with magic He is the best of all worlds-- selfless and solitary, mythical nature.

Vickiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08573890783110046304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13264367.post-1117403675493146032005-04-11T17:54:00.000-04:002005-05-29T17:54:35.493-04:00

The weather--perfect for a ride on old trusty sing the lunchtime blues I don't want to go back there let's stay for another one I gotta have my job maybe I better get back forget the blues now the bills have gotta be paid even if I don't like work I'm gonna be so late because I sang lunchtime blues hope I don't get fired gotta get back to work fast gotta make that paycheck last

Vickiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08573890783110046304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13264367.post-1117403629088044392005-04-10T17:53:00.000-04:002005-05-29T17:53:49.090-04:00

I'm alone in my squalor. A pigsty built for dozens failed to keep gluttonous men from breakfast. One by each, my family and neighbors succumbed to man's hunger. I am left in solitary splendor to await a similar fate.

Vickiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08573890783110046304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13264367.post-1117403599932596132005-04-09T17:52:00.000-04:002005-05-29T17:53:19.933-04:00

Happiness sure is relative; everything so dances in nature.

Vickiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08573890783110046304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13264367.post-1117403554635515012005-04-08T17:52:00.000-04:002005-05-29T17:52:34.636-04:00

I park my old bike outside of your shop each day and hope you notice. My head spins out of control when your sunshine smile finds me.

Vickiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08573890783110046304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13264367.post-1117403526597222062005-04-07T17:51:00.000-04:002005-05-29T17:52:06.596-04:00

Life-size in stature hard to differentiate from the real Mccoy.

Vickiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08573890783110046304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13264367.post-1117403463085070712005-04-06T17:50:00.000-04:002005-05-29T17:51:03.086-04:00

Silken webs woven in patternsspread across my window when my attention wanes in winter. My sole concern consists clearlyin where the co-authors of the colonycould be when not at home. See, harmless hairy spidersterrify me horribly even whenthe human is much bigger.

Vickiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08573890783110046304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13264367.post-1117403416150009842005-04-05T17:49:00.000-04:002005-05-29T17:50:16.150-04:00

When they cleared the landto build their new home,a man on a bicycle stoppedand asked if he couldbuy the trees. Uponexamination, the woodwas not solid. Instead,he said I'll build youa coffee table. The trees were gone,the house was built,and life went on. Threeyears later comes a knock on the door,a somewhat familiar manholds a coffee table, grinsand says, I bet you thoughtI forgot!

Vickiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08573890783110046304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13264367.post-1117403287425179292005-04-04T17:47:00.000-04:002005-05-29T17:48:30.043-04:00

The sentinel glowersas he watches from withinhis dark and gloomy frame. He guards the door. He is the door.Enter at your own risk. Beyond the facadeonly a few dare to loiter.Will you be the next to enter the chasm?

Vickiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08573890783110046304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13264367.post-1117403348134069312005-04-03T17:48:00.000-04:002005-05-29T17:49:08.136-04:00

The old lady leans heavily on her grandsonfor support and to keep him close to her.She is stopped once again in front of the big white house on the corner. She's waddled this way every day for a week.And each time, she stops and stares, mesmerizedby the unkempt yard and house. She seeswhat no longer exists except in her mind. Her grandson is very patient with the old woman.But, they have plans

Vickiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08573890783110046304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13264367.post-1117403183362913742005-04-02T17:45:00.000-05:002005-05-29T17:46:23.363-04:00

Inspiration flowsfrom many sources;mostly within ourselves. Pretty pictures conjurescents and places, wood and steel don't. I can dip myselfinto the inkwell of waterand write my dissatisfaction.

Vickiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08573890783110046304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13264367.post-1117403131526452942005-04-01T17:44:00.000-05:002005-05-29T17:45:31.536-04:00

Gather 'round the firetake off the chill and warm that old heart May wanna save thosemarshmallows til later,don't want no one getting hurt. Too much smokebothers them eyes. Comeo'er here where wind won'tgetcha.

Vickiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08573890783110046304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13264367.post-1117568398653089602005-03-21T15:39:00.000-05:002005-07-25T22:52:08.776-04:00

I go through my daysburied alive in a fogfar too stubborn for the fiercest winds. If only Mother Naturewould clear the pathahead, I could see. If only you couldcall my name above the ferocious cries,I could hear. If only I could swimthrough the mist-cladatmosphere, I could feel. Maybe then,the fog would lift enough--I could come home.

Vickiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08573890783110046304noreply@blogger.com0