The Mother
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A poem I just wrote about having a green thumb.
earth, flowers, gardening, green thumb, horticulture, kindness, love, Nature, poem, poet, The Mother
A poem about a dream and a waking horror
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I married Mary Yeti. We’re eating her spaghetti. My neighbor’s Barney Rubles. His wife is Major Betty. If you lived in the world I’m in I promise you you’d be Entertained at all times. I dare you—disagree.
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Who dreams the world while I’m asleep?Sophia, is it You?Does all responsibilityUltimately lie upon You?I daren’t wake you up, my Mother.I shan’t spoil the surprise.Just wait until the rest of us,Remember it’s all lies.
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A link to a new poem I wrote about Our Mother
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Someone’s shaking Sophia. Better stop them quick. We can’t afford for her to awaken. We need this dream to stick. For how can we grow Without this realm? It happens rather slowly. And existence is all about growth, don’t you know? And everything in it is holy.
