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November 2017

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Marie Lives in Nashville Tennessee, USA.

She is chair of The Founders Memorial Poetry Contest, held along with the WCP.

Marie is President of the National League of American Pen Women – Nashville Branch and past President of the Hendersonville Artist Guild. She has also served as Vice president, Treasurer, and Secretary over the years of both organizations. She is a Sculptress and Arts and Crafts designer. Her sculptures have won National and International awards. Marie is a Dame in the Order of St. Thomas of Acre located in Victoria, Australia.

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My Garden

Creating a garden is a gentle flow of beauty,

an invisible line where we can’t tell

where nature begins and art ends.

I plan in my mind the perfect sanctuary

to escape from my burdens.

I labor hours on end to create this small haven.

I work the earth until it is my friend,

digging, planting and arranging.

It is a place to share with love ones and friends?

Or a private place I share with only my hopes and fears.

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Web Design

The spider is captivating

swinging her way through my garden.

Should she follow the same design

used for thousands of years?

Or rebel

and weave a bit of her personality

into her web.

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That Morning

Just before daylight, my arms around you

and without opening my eyes

I rejoice in the rising and falling of each breath.

That morning without opening my eyes

I held you, afraid to let go.

That morning without opening my eyes

I cried when I felt your spirit go back to God.

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Definitely – A Bubble Bath Day

I wake with a jolt

it is daylight outside!

I overslept

No electricity, how long has it been out?

Cut off from it’s life source

my alarm sits in darkness in total disregard.

No coffee to help me.

The kids are late to school.

Clothes are in the washer, waiting for the dryer.

It is definitely a bubble bath day.

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This house is much too large for two.

Our children have moved to domiciles new.

Downsizing is prime on our to do list.

But a baby shoe lies there ― none could resist.

My closets are filled with childhood love.

Blue ribbons, trophies, an old softball glove.

A positive attitude! Organize! – Detail!

Each day I read new hints ― I will prevail!

My friends support me, co-workers offer help.

I dream perfect closets – one for myself.

We will have a huge sale, here in the yard.

Get rid of old games, bikes and old maid cards.

At last we have arrived at the big day.

Our grown children agree to help in any way.

My joy and excitement know no normal bounds.

I see closet space, free from prom gowns.

Till my youngest grabs her Girl Scout sash.

She wants to know – how could Mom be so rash?

Cherishes items disappear from the heap.

That is from my childhood. That you must keep!

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Anticipating a Grandchild

A tiny precious seed of like,

is sewn in breathless passion of the night.

A miracle of youth, issue of love,

and newly blessed by God’s bonds from above.

In awe I consider her rounding form,

as my daughter snuggles up, sweet and warm.

To her young husband, her love, and best friend

they curl into a primal blend.

I marvel at some instinct etched so deep.

It is natural as tide’s ebb and neap.

I breathe a prayer for the new mother and child.

And know that this babe will hold me beguiled.

Oh, child of mind, now a woman and wife,

too soon you take this special roll in life.

I can only guess the change this birth brings.

But at thought of a baby – my heart takes wings.

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