Thanksgiving Message

“Thanksgiving Message” One cannot be so generous in war. Our Bird’s analogy; his bold account, compares this siege of Syrians to shore as long ago our Puritans did mount! Our enemy now interweaves their tread with innocent, who, striving to be free, must mock us with their ugly whore,  instead, so filled with all her…

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“Waiting For the Morn”

“Waiting for the Morn” Morning lifts my dark curtain of night; sea-gulled and wing’ed; warm satin bright. She’ll scatter the dust of a billion stars grace sweeping the universe here to Mars. Copyright, Jacqueline Casey, 2012.  All Rights Reserved.

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“Between Two Worlds”

“Between Two Worlds” Though heaven’s place is grace-filled for the soul, my heart still hovers, halting, near this earth. Unless you,  only love , were there to hold, my courage dare not leap beyond this berth. My life has need for your familiar ground. I want no more than comfort from your kiss. You are…

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The Clown

The Clown And so the old town clock is winding down. It’s time to leave the party; say goodbye. Some souls would rather stay and play the clown. His fantasies go deep and so he sighs. He thinks he’s Bogie; somewhere there’s still life. He’s lonely; haunts the bars for his Bacall. She’s blonde and…

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“He’s Back”

“He’s Back” The rustle of cold colors whirl and shout and in their dance, a warning to revere. A halo’s on the mountain tops about and breezy waves of solemn shades appear. Soft yellows made among gray clouds, aloft and whisper to the shiv`ring wintry scene: “I am the cold, blue howl that bellows oft and…

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“Cradle Song”

Painting by Berthe Morisot, 1872 “Cradle Song” A sleeping baby girl; she slumbers here. Her breathless mother watches as she dreams. Her tiny mouth moves just to share the air. In twinkling innocence her young face beams. Her baby’s here; her sleeping star is near and mother listens for the slightest sounds as all the…

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The Rescue of Dryopteris

“The Rescue of Dryopteris” An afterthought, I took broken pot and held her. Barely does she sigh. Partially dead, I shook what was not held deeply in her branches dry. “Still a trace of life’s green” she whispered, faintly audible to my ears. Water-misted her clean; tear drops heard as she began to shed her…

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