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Post by goldenmyst on Sept 8, 2020 11:15:40 GMT -6
Soul Sister
Oh, child of the Irish Channel, is she who attended Divinity School known as parochial education in the haze of liberation theology. She is a lost lamb who wanders the slums opening her purse for bums. She gazes with wonder at every fallen cross in the neighborhood graveyard. She saunters angelically through hobo town upon whose frailty she leaves the rock of ages in pamphlets.
The bright-eyed moonchild surveys dreamscapes aglow with love light. As she walks under a balcony fate drops a ceramic pot nemesis inches from her peering eyes that gaze at death from a stone’s throw. When the sun melts into dusk the cookie lady welcomes the children to her porch with a wizened smile soft as the vanilla wafers she puts in the alms plates of their palms. And the ginger snaps break like her heart on a lonely street to nowhere or everywhere that can be imagined for a reader of tombstones Overgrown by primroses Sacred flower to Freya The Norse Goddess Of love and marriage She tends the yellow cemetery blossoms To be doubly blessed By Freya while she lives and breathes and by Osiris the Egyptian Lord of the dead for whom she tends this garden of souls when she joins the choir invisible.
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Post by Catlady2710 on Sept 8, 2020 14:34:01 GMT -6
Very profound.
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Post by goldenmyst on Sept 8, 2020 14:59:47 GMT -6
Thanks so much, my friend. This was based on a poem I wrote about my late wife's teenage years based on what she told me. I just changed the setting from New York to my old neighborhood in New Orleans. The cookie lady is a character I grew up with who handed out cookies to the kids at dusk. The graveyard was just down the street. Thanks for the read.
John
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Post by AquarianM on Sept 9, 2020 0:43:49 GMT -6
It felt like a unique blend of settings while I was reading it, John, in an odd but good way. This almost sounds like it should be comemorated in a Blues song. It's not the crossroads, but it has that kind of "mystical archetype" vibe going for it in spades.
Dan
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Post by goldenmyst on Sept 9, 2020 6:31:53 GMT -6
Much gratiitude Dan. My childhood is indeed my. personal myth. Love how you picked up on the legendary feel here. So very glad you saw beyond the oddness into the heart of.this poem. Not everyone can do that. That takes a perceptive and open mind. I thank you from my heart.
John
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Post by QueenFoxy on Sept 11, 2020 17:16:33 GMT -6
Great write, John.
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Post by goldenmyst on Sept 11, 2020 19:21:44 GMT -6
Thank you Foxy. This one was greatly meaningful to me on more than one level. Glad you enjoyed my friend.
XoXoXo John
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Post by QueenFoxy on Sept 11, 2020 20:33:33 GMT -6
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Post by goldenmyst on Sept 11, 2020 20:38:46 GMT -6
The same wishes from me to you my friend. Such a life as that is well lived.
XoXoXo John
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Post by simpledip on Sept 12, 2020 8:02:11 GMT -6
John, I am deeply touched by the magic of the mystical moments you have created. "The bright-eyed moonchild surveys dreamscapes aglow with love light...
When the sun melts into dusk the cookie lady welcomes the children to her porch with a wizened smile soft as the vanilla wafers she puts in the alms plates of their palms" Bows deeply. Peace be with you My Friend.
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Post by QueenFoxy on Sept 12, 2020 19:27:18 GMT -6
Very lovely, Dip.
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Post by goldenmyst on Sept 12, 2020 23:22:49 GMT -6
Dip, I knew you would like this. You are quite the laureate with mystical and magical poetry. I bow most humbly and thank you, my friend.
John
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Post by QueenFoxy on Sept 13, 2020 14:30:44 GMT -6
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Post by simpledip on Sept 13, 2020 23:34:13 GMT -6
Dip, I knew you would like this. You are quite the laureate with mystical and magical poetry. I bow most humbly and thank you, my friend. John Bows deeply. "When the sun melts into dusk the cookie lady welcomes the children to her porch with a wizened smile soft as the vanilla wafers she puts in the alms plates of their palms"
Reminded me of my Grandmother.
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Post by goldenmyst on Sept 14, 2020 19:12:32 GMT -6
Dip, I am most touched that my words brought to mind your grandmother. Indeed the cookie lady was a treasured part of our neighborhood family growing up. I thank you from my heart my friend.
John
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Post by QueenFoxy on Sept 15, 2020 15:25:58 GMT -6
What a beautiful memory was awakened for you, Dip. Poetry is touched by magic.
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Post by poetinpink on Sept 18, 2020 20:03:45 GMT -6
~John~ What a wonderful & touching write my friend I too was drawn to the cookie lady ~ Only for me it reminded me of my Papa He was a chef and baker, he used to bake all the time and give his scrumptious cookies and goodies to all the kids in the neighborhood ~ Thank you for bringing that loving memory to mind. I always so enjoy reading from your heart & soul Thank you for sharing through all these years. Huggerz Alana
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Post by goldenmyst on Sept 18, 2020 20:21:53 GMT -6
Alana, your smile beams through your words. Your comment is illuminated by your soul light that glows from within to warm those fortunate to read you. I am most deeply grateful for you sharing the story of your father the chef. You have touched me deeply my darling friend.
XoXoXo John
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