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Shards


Guest Jennifer T

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Guest Jennifer T

In shards of broken memory

A child cries

For refuge from a torrent of rage

And disdain.

Through fear and pain

The betrayal finds,

in sequestered austerity,

An asylum for the soul.

Years pass.

The haven of repression

becomes a prison;

Anathema.

Contempt for self

And a shame indiscernible

lies dormant; an awareness

Waiting...

-fade-

A woman,

Silenced in debasement;

Coped with a struggle

Meant for two

The burden too great

She became a product of duplicity

An onus mismanaged

Brought distorted solace;

The provender of life became the

furtherance of despair.

And the child cried.

-unfade-

The shards reassembled

Provide a shattered reflection

Of a child remembered.

- Jennifer T, June 2003

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Guest miss kindheart

Have no fear

Jennifer is here

You now know

That as you grow

That you are you

Don't be blue

You are good

Like you should

So look above

Look at love

Your life is blessed

Enjoy the rest

Yes you can

wear that dress

:wub: vanna

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Guest Paradox

Inadequate, Paradox? How so?

I have been told that I write well, and indeed, when in school, I scored high marks in English prose, but I never had the gift you have for poetry. It is like having blurred vision all your life when somene suddenly loans you a pair of glasses for a day. You suddenly realize what you cannot do and have not thought of. After that moment, nothing is ever the same.

Well, maybe it is not that dramatic, but still......

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Guest Jennifer T

Paradox, thank you for your compliment. However, don't do yourself such an injustice. Poetry is very personal. Sure, there are technical aspects to it - meter, movement, vocabulary, etc. But 'good' poetry is something that comes from the heart of the person that lived the moment. Poetry is about being in a place and opening that place up to another to see. When others can see where you've been; feel what you've felt, then the art of words is given life.

Show us where you are or have been. "Tell me of your home world, Usul."

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Guest Paradox

I enjoy music and song, but that doesn't mean that I can write such, and you would never want to hear me sing!

I see the form and subsance within poetry, but it needs passion. Feelings are the key.

I am intellect; I am thought; I am the unreasonableness of absolute reason.

My home world is within. I carry it with me whereever I go. I add the reflections of new worlds visited to it. Glimpses of it are sometimes seen through the windows.

Good and evil, male and female, forever locked in a symphony of battle, forever needing each other, trying, but never quite understanding and achieving the harmony of working together in unified purpose.

This is my poem. Form, substance, uneven tempo. It exists.

It lives.

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Guest Jennifer T

"Glimpses of it are sometimes seen through the windows."

I like this - a lot!

We are ever changing, Paradox, in the we never exist exactly the same in two points in time. We enter no time through which we can exit untouched. And we are each made better by our passage through such and all those whose paths intersect out own.

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Guest miss kindheart

Dear Parodox,

<<< hug >>>>

I love this quote

Nobody has ever measured, not even poets, how much a heart can hold.
- Zelda Fitzgerald

I think you have lots of love in your heart

Just let it flow from you

And your words will be beautiful

Just like you

With love from

:wub: vanna

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Guest angels wings

Jennifer,Vanna and Paradox you have all touched my heart . Keep soaring high beautiful people :)

Thank you for sharing your hearts :)

Angel :)

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Guest Jennifer T

I also want you to know that I am very glad you responded in Natalie's thread. I was hoping you would. I was going to pm you and ask you to offer your perspective to her from your experience. But I can't pm you.

Anyway, again, thank you.

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