Wind
Sails
Down
Through
The
Canyon
And
Across
The
Desert
Town,
Garden
Petals
Blow
Upside
Down,
And
Lavender
Stems
Bend
To
The
Ground.
Iris
Blades
Lean
To
The
Shade
While
No
Birds
Call,
As
The
Sun
Beats
Down,
Heedless
Of
All.
The
Wind Sails Down Through The Canyon And Across The Desert Town, Garden Petals Blow Upside Down, And Lavender Stems Bend To The Ground. Iris Blades Lean To The Shade While No Birds Call, As The Sun Beats Down, Heedless Of All.
0 Comments
Old
Scars Ache When It Rains, And Names Get Misfiled In Our Brains, But On We Sail In Our Leaky Boats, Made Of Paper Clips And Sticky Notes, Constructing Fables That Enable Forms To Rise And Live In Prose, To Tell Again What Everyone Knows, And We’ll Borrow And Steal To Make It Come Real. Hey,
You Say Things Aren’t Going Right? Straps Too Tight, Shoes Too Low, Life Pinching Everywhere You Turn? Don’t You Ever Learn? By Now, You Ought To Know Peace And Time Drop Stealthy Slow, And You’ve Still Far To Go. Take Heart. Its Taken Years To Make A Steady Start. Between
The Pages Of Our Books, Passion Rages In Secret Nooks, Desire Described In Lavish Prose, Defining What The Heart Knows In Sultry Chambers That Subtly Lurk In Fantasies Complex Work. Lo, In Steps Reason As We Dream, To Tell Us Nothing Is Without A Seam, To Hem Us In Before We Fall Into Lust’s Spin, As Too Soon, We Reach The End. Deputy Sheriff Dale Jackson investigates a brutal murder, exposing heroin traffic in his New Mexico community. A chance meeting with enticing but corrupt Elena Chavez leads to a devastating sexual encounter with her, and when he confronts the drug dealers, Dale is shot and gravely wounded. Hospitalized, he remembers the seamy and reckless things he did, and mourns the loss of his integrity.
Nurse Sharon Mitchell pursues the intriguing deputy, but he warns her off. Can she reach him or is he ruined in his own eyes as an honorable man? http://www.amazon.com/Elena-Chavez-Jeanette-Collins-ebook/ Some
Days I Wake Afraid That Every Single Thing I’ve Made Is Otious To The Core, Which Is A Bore. I Chide Myself, Not Happy To Deride All The Baggage I Contain In Storerooms, Shelves, And In My Brain, And It’s Just As Useless To Complain. I Get Up Anyway, Knowing Yet Again Today I’ll Try To Conjure One More Time An Image To Make The Universe Rhyme. Praise
Need Not Be Loud, One Word Can Be A Crowd Of Note To Keep One’s Little Ship Afloat. Not For Ego’s Sake Do We Labor In The Dark To Make A Worthy Thing. We Work In Hope One Word Will Be Heard, One Image Seen, Can Bring Belief To Every Secret Joy And Random Grief. Up
At Dawn To Get Blood Drawn For A Televisit With A Physician I Haven’t Met. My Old Doctor, A Sweetheart Guy, Retired And Said Goodbye To My Chagrin, So I Must Begin Again With A New Fellow, And Assure Him Blood Wise, I Am Totally Mellow. Swimming
Toward Tomorrow On A Sea Of Words, Condensing Everything I’ve Heard And Seen, Each Wave Newly Green, Doing My Best To Reach The Crest, Swoop Down In A Loop, Rise Up Again With Measured Strain, And Do It All Again. For
This Moment, Time Suspended, Beauty Is Ours, All Woe Mended. Hurts Have Healed, And Love Revealed, We Stand As One To Face The Day, Knowing In Our Rose- Tinted Way, That Nothing Worthwhile Is Ever Done. |
AuthorJeanette Collins Archives
August 2024
|