Poetry

Soul-Making In A Garden

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Linda Swanberg 2815 Old Fort Rd., Apt. 215 Missoula, MT 59804 (406) 493-0240 linda@snowisthemountain.com      SOUL-MAKING IN A GARDEN                                                                     i.   My path toward wholeness began in a garden. Feelings of isolation from the world lessened as...

The Song of Autumn, By JoyAnne O’Donnell

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The autumn is filled with pumpkins prayers for miles God's endless smiles on cool breezes shines high rise's of many colors with the leaves dance on the ground in the sky with autumns wing's flies a great season an inspiring reason peace in...

Your Opening: An Easter Poem

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The garden is not grateful to the gardener. The bud does not cry, 'Open me!' Darkness untangles threads of light without God's fingers, filaments of pollen spilling from the reckless void. The gardener is grateful to the garden. Only...

The Mnemosyne Weekly: Poem Sixteen (Ōshikōchi no Mitsune)

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Ōshikōchi no Mitsune  painted by Kanō Tan'yū This week's posting will again serve a dual purpose. In addition to announcing the new Mnemosyne poem, I'd like to also introduce the form, tanka, so that we may memorize...

She Beckons

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All this time we have been falling at the feet of yesterday's shadows, while the spirit of wisdom stands beside us offering her hand.

Send your poems

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Please follow these 2 guidelines: 1. Keep your poem short - 10-12 lines 2. Send your best work.

water

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water   cup of life fluid gold river of myrrh promised frankincense mother gaia’s offshoot in the beginning, she was after the beginning, she is when the beginning ends, she will be her strong curves carving worlds into being ~Terri Stewart, January 2011

The Mnemosyne Weekly: Poem Thirty-Nine (Amichai)

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San Carlos Wildflowers John Fowler This week I've fallen in love with a new (to me) poet, Yehuda Amichai, whose selected poems I picked up at Half Price Books a few weeks ago and have been devouring...

The darkness cannot last forever

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The darkness cannot last forever. The night has always end. The force of evil is afraid of light and wickedness is melting on the sun of justice.

My Robin flew away…

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    My Robin flew away… That morning was different. That horizon with the twilight hue of dawn was colorful. That air smelled of freshness. I was up and awake from a dreamless slumber, with dizziness of new awakening and anticipation...