BTT #38: How to unwrap God’s Gifts on Christmas Morning.

  How to unwrap God's Gifts on Christmas Morning ∗ Heal wounds. Soak Earth with sunshine. Breathe hope into sorrows And pace the Long and gentle Unwinding of the clocks. Don't point and counter Or fence the tides of Wild creation into doctrine. Care for each other, Instead of playing endlessly With the box. ∗ …

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Travel with Tosha to a place of quiet contrasts, peace, reconciliation. One of my favorite poems, opens the antithetical interiors of a quiet afternoon by the sea to the sweeping pathways of the the hearts breezeway. I love this. So I am reblogging it.  Link on in to it and get swept. Thanks Tosha, Lona

Everything I Never Told You

I am not she.
The view is not the same.
I sit by roses but don’t
see the thorns.
Even after all these years,
still full of the blush
of wonder

My air is warm, fragrant.
My heart speaks of
watercolor nights and
a breathless yearning.

I’m wild for you, but not
afflicted. I recite charms
through verse and song
by a bending light.

I speak in sunlight even
when the cumuli
starts to gather. Lying
face down in the grass.
Hope imprinted on my cheek.

My heart bleeds in syntax.
Just a gleaming of my
streaming soul. Writing what
touches me best.
Love. Fear. Happenstance.
A trembling mind.

The punctuation peppered
with sea salt and caramel.

I steadfastly sit by the ocean
as the boats drift away.
I choose to contend with the
wind. Making a symphony
with the air.

Chopin playing against
the elements and tide.
Never just…

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BTT #37: Is Epistemology a Whore or a Mother or Both?

  Is Epistemology a Whore or a Mother or Both? Truth, it seems, is rarely lacking leaven. A wise woman said it hurts only if you believe it. The most tenacious con is self-deception. Truth may have its way, but perhaps is merely written by the victors. Whether it is a sword or salve depends upon the …

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BTT #36: Broken Quadrille I was too lazy to edit so I broke the Quadrille.  yes, it was me, it was sitting around there all shattered and the entire dVerse had long faces, and said together, "HEY! WHO BROKE THE QUADRILLE???!!!)  I mean my poem was so awesome and each little word was just dripping with honey …

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