Here are a few of my favorite pics from my first fall in Vermont. The colors were incredibly vibrant and two weeks early. This was the view from my front door, for two weeks. My eyes, my soul and my cell phone camera were overwhelmed.
October blues appear out of sync amidst the brilliant reds and golds
watching the leaves change as this heart remains heavy and cold.
Fiery burning colors, so bright they make my head spin
while my eyes smile at the show, my heart refuses to join in.
This time last year, snapping pictures with childlike abandon
dashing from tree to tree from river to mountain to canyon.
That child has been banished, her spirit broken and blue
running from memories that whisper; girl, it was never true.
Jeanne Marie, 2016
My first question was, why not everyday? Several women (angrily) asked me that same question when I posted or re-blogged articles related to domestic violence, emotional, verbal or sexual abuse. Well, I told them that I wondered that too, and that I didn’t name the dedication, I was just trying to honor the victims and the survivors because I come from that country and I am fluent in that language.
The question I have asked myself repeatedly this month is this: What does national awareness do for the victims? Does it change the abuser’s mind? Does he (or she) say, “Damn it! I’m not going to swear and scream at you until National Domestic Violence Awareness Month is over, you lucky bitch!”
Does he pay the bills, buy some food, keep his hands off his daughter because it’s National Domestic Violence Awareness Month?
Will the family have a month of…
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From The Reluctant Poet a emotion packed poem.
In the midst of my autumn
watching my colors turn
yellows, reds and golds.
When the last leaf dies
storms will throw their icy
weight upon this body old.
Snowflakes will drift and pile
the tree limbs will come down
when boughs fail to hold.
Gifted with four seasons and
it seemed a time so long,
yet quickly, my leaves turned gold.
I pray you remember me as autumn
dancing in the wind, swirling and
bursting with colors so vivid and bold.
we were young
we were wild
we were free.
We were hippies
we were kids
who didn’t know
would not always be.
and we fought
we went separate ways
but we had three children
who got lost in our maze.
People can judge
and guess who’s to blame
but it was me and it was you
who held our love in the flames.
Pushing the line
until it was erased.
I stopped running
you no longer chased.
We burnt our love
like a steak forgotton
on a hot charcoal grill.
We said goodbye
but we also said
I love you
I always will.
The last time
I saw you
Our lips touched
One last time
I held your familiar
you’ll always be mine.
I shook my head no
but my tears said yes.
Tears fell from our eyes
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I love this poem from TORNADODAY
take me with
if you are going
somewhere closer to the sun –
where a lonely ache
shall carry us
not yet written –
bears the memory of change
so I’ll hold your hand
for whatever truth
let it keep
beyond the leaving
for all the world to see
how it was
the path remembered
as you waited time
. . .
I have howled mournfully at the Wolf’s moon,
knee deep in the snow of a frozen winter’s night.
Grieving the loss of my lover, the fantasy
of he and I tangled in white, cotton sheets,
touching for the last time his rough face
happy, content, in love, just an illusion.
It’s complicated, he growled
as he changed into the Wolf and fled.
I have howled, screamed and cried
wept tears that froze on my cold cheeks.
I have walked across a barely, frozen lake
stood at the edge of a rocky cliff,
searching for my Wolf in the darkness.
Offering up the bloody remains
of my heart to tease his hunger.
Surely, he didn’t forget the taste
Inspired by The Wolf Moon By Charles Robert Lindholm, The Reluctant Poet
The Wolf Moon
Picture Credit: Pics Art
By Keza/Spiritedsoul And Charles Robert Lindholm – The Reluctant Poet
How Did I
The Coldest Heart?
Your Sweet Words
Your Fiery Passion,
Your Hungry Hands,
And Wild Desires,
And Lies About Love,
Hid The Truth
No Words Of Love
Or Warm Embrace
What I Have Learned,
I Am, No Longer A Fool
Are Barbed Wire Kisses
That Cut Me
To The Quick
Me In Tears,
For Trusting You
I Seek Refuge
In The Darkest Corner
Of My Soul,
The Safest Place To Sit,
Far Away From You
Where I Can Wonder,
And Plan My Escape,
Into A Life
That Once Again
Copyright © 2020 Keza/Spiritedsoul And Charles Robert Lindholm – The Reluctant Poet
All Rights Reserved – 09-04-2020 – 11:30 a.m.
Thanks so much to Keza for…
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Going to be 32 degrees tonight.
The sunflowers reach for the sun
they don’t know that the summer…
the summer is done.
Still bursting with tiny, green, closed buds
and the mother plant proudly presenting
the huge yellow sunflowers that I love.
It will only take one frosty night
and then my beautiful sunflowers
you will no longer be mine.
To the ground, to the ground
sunflower petals and seeds will fall
but I know…I know you will come back
shooting up in the spring, then
once more my sunflowers
you will be mine
until the first frost of fall.
Dream by Michelle Marie & Jeanne Marie, 2020
It’s so sad when summer goes away.
I thought if my love was strong enough
Maybe this time she would stay.
So, I chased the sunshine
I kissed the sunflowers
I danced with honeybees
I nurtured wildflowers.
I ran with the butterflies
I played in the sunshine
For hours and hours and hours.
I grew daisies and vegetables
And embraced the sun showers.
I woke each morning and chased the day
Then followed the sun’s departure
As daylight slowly drifted away.
I loved this summer like it was my first,
my last and everything in-between
and when the snow covers my windows
I’ll close my eyes and I’ll dream…
I’ll dream of summer.
Sweet Little Wildflower
By Michelle Marie and Jeanne Marie
she rose above it