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Poems

Saturday, July 30, 2005. I can smell the blue this morning. As I take my Father’s hand. I can hear the daisies dancing. To the purr of sun-lit land. I can taste the triumph coming. Of a girl grown young again. I can touch the stars of childhood. On the wings of way back when. I can see the summer’s promise. As my Father smiles at me. I can feel the steady heartbeat. Of the child he knows I’ll be. Posted by Cherie @ 9:00 AM. Ripples in Rachels Coffee. I am a Seed. September Morning - September Rain.

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Poems | thepoemblurbs.blogspot.com Reviews
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Saturday, July 30, 2005. I can smell the blue this morning. As I take my Father’s hand. I can hear the daisies dancing. To the purr of sun-lit land. I can taste the triumph coming. Of a girl grown young again. I can touch the stars of childhood. On the wings of way back when. I can see the summer’s promise. As my Father smiles at me. I can feel the steady heartbeat. Of the child he knows I’ll be. Posted by Cherie @ 9:00 AM. Ripples in Rachels Coffee. I am a Seed. September Morning - September Rain.
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1 poems
2 summer's promise
3 all rights reserved
4 more poems
5 summers promise
6 the first flowers
7 looking at christmas
8 flower
9 rushing arms
10 yeshua
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Poems | thepoemblurbs.blogspot.com Reviews

https://thepoemblurbs.blogspot.com

Saturday, July 30, 2005. I can smell the blue this morning. As I take my Father’s hand. I can hear the daisies dancing. To the purr of sun-lit land. I can taste the triumph coming. Of a girl grown young again. I can touch the stars of childhood. On the wings of way back when. I can see the summer’s promise. As my Father smiles at me. I can feel the steady heartbeat. Of the child he knows I’ll be. Posted by Cherie @ 9:00 AM. Ripples in Rachels Coffee. I am a Seed. September Morning - September Rain.

INTERNAL PAGES

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1

Poems: September Morning - September Rain

http://thepoemblurbs.blogspot.com/2005/01/september-morning-september-rain.html

Monday, January 03, 2005. September Morning - September Rain. There is magic all around me. When I think about your love. There are patterns in the raindrops. There are whispers from above. There are symphonies of movement. In the light and in the green. There are promises unspoken. There are witnesses unseen. There is spring in mid-September. There are blushings, there are blooms. There is laughter splashed like music. Through my silent, empty rooms. There is gold and bronze and silver.

2

Poems: Yeshua

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Sunday, January 02, 2005. Birth blood dries on his forehead. As he cries,. Wrinkled and naked and shaking. And presses trembling lips to his cheek. Yeshua, she whispers,. And he turns toward her voice. Yeshua, she whispers,. And he blinks up at her pale face. Holding him to her breast,. She cradles him in her hands,. And he squirms and searches and finally drinks. His small fist opens and grasps at the air. As her hair falls around him like silk. And then, he is still. The wind whistles,. The moon rises,.

3

Poems: Flower

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Wednesday, January 05, 2005. Pick me like a flower reaching. For the death your hand will bring. See me, take me, cup me closer. Kiss away my languishing. Catch me like a flower falling. Wasted, tasteless, dying, dry. Breathe me in and kiss me open. Blossom me, my Earth, my Sky. Press me like a flower bowing. Weighted down by heavy rain. Conquer me and crush my colors. Drink my perfume once again. Keep me like a flower carried. In the crevice of your palm. Scar kissed skin will be my pillow.

4

Poems: Looking at Christmas

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Friday, January 07, 2005. Looking at Christmas,. My heart whispers,. Can I be your child? Is there a star in your sky. That will lead you. Where I am lying,. Helpless as a newborn? Will you kneel down. To pick me up. And hold me close. Their lambs to see the sight. Of love born in the night? Can I be your child? Looking at Christmas,. My heart answers,. Posted by Cherie @ 9:00 AM. I am a Seed. September Morning - September Rain. A Late Night Walk in May.

5

Poems: Ripples in Rachel's Coffee

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Saturday, January 08, 2005. Ripples in Rachel's Coffee. At a small café. Here we are,. After all this time,. Here we are,. Smiling into each other’s eyes. As if we were still freshmen. Here we are,. Captivated by our catching up. And here she is,. Tender hearted atheist,. So much the same,. Here she is,. As I spill the beans and tell her. That I’m in love with You. Here she is,. Smiling like an older sister,. Amused at my new faith. And here I am,. Watching her reaction,. Struck by her lonely confidence.

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Jesus Blurbs: November 2005

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Saturday, November 19, 2005. I look into the distance. Through the mist, over a sea of fire, I see him crossing the meadow. He is walking toward me with an effortless, masculine grace, and the outline of his shoulders against the morning light brings a familiar lump to my throat. Is he the god of the sunrise, this blinding, bold, unearthly man? Or is this a vision of Adam, newly woken and wishing for warmth? Oh please, hold me again this morning! Good morning, he says and smiles. From Him to You.

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Jesus Blurbs: October 2005

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Saturday, October 22, 2005. Posted by Cherie @ 9:00 AM. Saturday, October 15, 2005. Ask Jesus (for Cherie Croker). Ask me anything, he said with his face close to mine. The sparkle in his eyes made me giddy. I’m not allowed to, I said playfully. You’re not allowed to? He repeated. Who says? Oh, you know, all the very important people who know all about everything My voice trailed off as his eyebrows went up. Cherie, he said pointedly. Ask me anything. Absolutely anything, he told me, grinning. A child si...

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Jesus Blurbs: May 2005

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Saturday, May 28, 2005. Dear Mr. Ridley. Dear Mr. Ridley,. I saw in the newspaper that you are the religious editor. I’m sorry to bother you, but I wasn’t sure who to talk to. If there were some sort of president of churches, I’d write to him, but I don’t think there is. I’m writing this letter because I’ve been going to church for a while, and I like it a lot, but I don’t understand something. Why is there just a little bit of worship at the beginning of the service? I worship a lot at home with my CD’s...

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Jesus Blurbs: September 2005

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Saturday, September 24, 2005. Have you ever read one of those biographies of the heroes of the faith? A banner waves over you today. On it is written one word, a word that defines who Jesus is in your story, a word that describes some aspect of his loveliness. That word is the message your life is speaking and will speak forever. What is that word? If you ask him, I bet he’ll tell you. Posted by Cherie @ 9:00 AM. Saturday, September 10, 2005. Father feels the same way about you. Really! Little kisses&#46...

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Jesus Blurbs: April 2005

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Saturday, April 30, 2005. Leaning is easy to do once you get the hang of it. The trick is to stop pretending. No one can lean while pretending. Smile too much and you can’t lean. Walk too tall and you can’t lean. Tell yourself you can handle it andwell, you get the idea. Leaning requires an honest surrender to gravity. It also requires something strong to rest your weight upon. Weakness is our ticket to his arms. Who is this coming up from the desert leaning on her lover? Song of Songs 8:5. But I know wh...

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On My Contemporaries | Essays by Tom D'Evelyn

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thepoembetweenblog | essays in metaxological criticism

Apropos of About: Books Talk to Each Other. Essays in metaxological criticism. On “Anaphora” by Elizabeth Bishop. Posted by Tom D'Evelyn. Asymp; 2 Comments. Each day with so much ceremony. Begins, with birds, with bells,. With whistles from a factory;. Such white-gold skies our eyes. First open on, such brilliant walls. That for a moment we wonder. 8216;Where is the music coming from, the energy? The day was meant for what ineffable creature. We must have missed? 8216; Oh promptly he. Asymp; 3 Comments.

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Poems

Saturday, July 30, 2005. I can smell the blue this morning. As I take my Father’s hand. I can hear the daisies dancing. To the purr of sun-lit land. I can taste the triumph coming. Of a girl grown young again. I can touch the stars of childhood. On the wings of way back when. I can see the summer’s promise. As my Father smiles at me. I can feel the steady heartbeat. Of the child he knows I’ll be. Posted by Cherie @ 9:00 AM. Ripples in Rachels Coffee. I am a Seed. September Morning - September Rain.

thepoembox.blogspot.com thepoembox.blogspot.com

The poem box

الاثنين، 20 أكتوبر، 2008. Dear human being . I hope you can hear me . I hope you can see. I hope you can reach me . and share the pain with me . We're not alone . The things we share . of love and care. Are fading hear beside me. The world we know . is cold unknown. A stage of a cruelest tragedy. But there is still a light . In a distant time. A child will com. Or mine Or even them . Do blossom in a golden bless. No you and I. No me and him. When a sun will rise. At last no sunset. When god will die.

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The best poems by heart | The poem is life and the life is learning

The best poems by heart. The first essay that I wrote (The End). September 28, 2011 at 1:46 pm ( My Essay. I would like to say you that this is the final part of the first essay, it was begun from the power’s theme that there are intro, two body and conclusion. As following this;. As if gun don’t have bullet, it is the same as man without breath It is moral of my essay in the power of My Life had stood- a Loaded Gun. As you can see, this is the end of the power in my first essay . The power of gun happen...

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Classic Poetry

Wednesday, September 23, 2009. First World War Poetry from Rupert Brooke. Blow out, you bugles, over the rich Dead! There's none of these so lonely and poor of old,. But, dying, has made us rarer gifts than gold. These laid the world away; poured out the red. Sweet wine of youth; gave up the years to be. Of work and joy, and that unhoped serene,. That men call age; and those who would have been,. Their sons, they gave, their immortality. Blow, bugles, blow! They brought us, for our dearth,. Of course the...

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