pamelaconespoetry2.blogspot.com
Without Walls
http://pamelaconespoetry2.blogspot.com/2009/06/inspite-of.html
Friday, June 26, 2009. Bloody men line the streets. Their hands filled with stones. A song fills my heart. The place your finger touched. Deeply rendered, Pam. There is an undying undeniable love here. Thank you. September 28, 2009 at 7:51 PM. October 6, 2009 at 6:49 AM. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). There was an error in this gadget. Without walls we are all the same, Soul and Spirit- Living,. Wandering, Hoping, Praying, Laughing,Crying,Dying- Loving. Sometimes I Talk To Myself. When a Poet Dies.
pamelaconespoetry2.blogspot.com
Without Walls: 12/01/08
http://pamelaconespoetry2.blogspot.com/2008_12_01_archive.html
Monday, December 1, 2008. I want to live like I'm running from yesterday but not worried about tomorrow. Live as if a rainbow shows up everyday before the stars come out to play. I want to love like my next breath is dependent upon my lovers smile. The smile in the eyes that says the loves the same. A kind love gentle enough to hold and sweet enough to taste. To taste even when the air is bitter and the moon is hidden. If I Was Hungry I Wouldn't Tell You. Only buried determination allows me to stand.
thepoetoutloud.blogspot.com
the po~et: the po~et (the spell of words)
http://thepoetoutloud.blogspot.com/2009/10/poet-spell-of-words.html
There was an error in this gadget. Writing always provided him the catharsis needed to deal with his mundane life. now he wanted the words to be more than symbols dancing before him, mocking his pathetic existence. he would breathe life into them, make the images walk off the page and their meanings appear. he would wear them like a new coat replacing the one that faded him into the landscape. The po et (the spell of words). Sometimes I Talk To Myself. When a Poet Dies. What do you do when a poet dies?
thepoetoutloud.blogspot.com
the po~et: October 2009
http://thepoetoutloud.blogspot.com/2009_10_01_archive.html
There was an error in this gadget. Writing always provided him the catharsis needed to deal with his mundane life. now he wanted the words to be more than symbols dancing before him, mocking his pathetic existence. he would breathe life into them, make the images walk off the page and their meanings appear. he would wear them like a new coat replacing the one that faded him into the landscape. The po et (the spell of words). Sometimes I Talk To Myself. When a Poet Dies. What do you do when a poet dies?
pamelaconespoetry2.blogspot.com
Without Walls: 02/08/09
http://pamelaconespoetry2.blogspot.com/2009_02_08_archive.html
Sunday, February 8, 2009. We stand in the wind as if its bite has no effect. Daring it to knock us level to the ground. We mock the naked trees and envy the tumbleweed. Still the vacated cave can't stop its whispers. Subscribe to: Posts (Atom). There was an error in this gadget. Without walls we are all the same, Soul and Spirit- Living,. Wandering, Hoping, Praying, Laughing,Crying,Dying- Loving. Sometimes I Talk To Myself. When a Poet Dies. What do you do when a poet dies? Memories of Big Mama.
pamelaconespoetry2.blogspot.com
Without Walls
http://pamelaconespoetry2.blogspot.com/2009/04/turn-to-zion.html
Sunday, April 5, 2009. I knocked before I entered. The room seemed large. I called your name. Faithful to me- You answered. Oh I love. So few words to say so much. June 12, 2009 at 6:56 AM. June 25, 2009 at 11:08 AM. Thank you both so much for stopping by. July 29, 2009 at 12:07 PM. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). There was an error in this gadget. Without walls we are all the same, Soul and Spirit- Living,. Wandering, Hoping, Praying, Laughing,Crying,Dying- Loving. Sometimes I Talk To Myself.
pamelaconespoetry2.blogspot.com
Without Walls: 05/02/09
http://pamelaconespoetry2.blogspot.com/2009_05_02_archive.html
Saturday, May 2, 2009. You would think they are the solution. If all of the problems would go with them to the slaughter. Left on the chopping block or cast into the bottom of the sea- like sin. Subscribe to: Posts (Atom). There was an error in this gadget. Without walls we are all the same, Soul and Spirit- Living,. Wandering, Hoping, Praying, Laughing,Crying,Dying- Loving. Sometimes I Talk To Myself. When a Poet Dies. What do you do when a poet dies? Memories of Big Mama. Ain't I A Woman?
pamelaconespoetry2.blogspot.com
Without Walls: 12/03/08
http://pamelaconespoetry2.blogspot.com/2008_12_03_archive.html
Wednesday, December 3, 2008. The streets are not as wide or as long as they were before. Manicured lawns, painted houses and porches. Once filled with the laughter of playing children, all gone. Disappeared as if aliens had invaded and all the inhabitants had to flee to find refuge. Inhabited now by those who have changed the facade. Left by those living there day to day by faith. Faith that could be heard on every corner. From the stands holding the singing birds and the pulpits that echoed. Swaddled in...
thepoetoutloud.blogspot.com
the po~et: April 2009
http://thepoetoutloud.blogspot.com/2009_04_01_archive.html
There was an error in this gadget. Writing always provided him the catharsis needed to deal with his mundane life. now he wanted the words to be more than symbols dancing before him, mocking his pathetic existence. he would breathe life into them, make the images walk off the page and their meanings appear. he would wear them like a new coat replacing the one that faded him into the landscape. The po et 22 (the length of a hall). The po et 21 (papier-mâché affair). Sometimes I Talk To Myself. The hallway...
