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    Willow wrote a new post

    Leave a Message at the Tone...

    I can hear my phone buzzing  on the dresser across the room  like a fly...dogging my face it's distracting    as I give myself over ...in every possible sense... to his ferocious ministrations   his smoky eyes burning holes in my soul setting my nerve endings ablaze flickers spreading quickly a...

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  • Leave a Message at the Tone…

    I can hear my phone buzzing
    on the dresser across the room
    like a fly…dogging my face
    it’s distracting

    as I give myself over
    …in every possible sense…
    to his ferocious ministrations

    his smoky eyes burning holes in my soul
    setting my nerve endings ablaze
    flickers spreading quickly
    a…Read More

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  • Sensory Memories

    “why are you so addicted to popcorn?”

    because on Saturday evenings…
    when I was small…
    (too young to know of more exciting things…
    like theaters and urban adventures)
    there was a table that became an arena

    where board games and Uno took over
    and we gathered as a family…
    no chores…
    otherwise idle…Read More

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    4 Comments
    • Aw, I can smell the corn popping from here – a really atmospheric poem.

      • Thank you 😊 I make popcorn every week, never recapture those moments but it brings back the memories

    • Willow, I make the popcorn the same way your grandmother did, 3 quart pot, melt the butter and mix. But I must confess, the popcorn goes in a big bowl and I eat it all from there. Thanks for sharing the popcorn….er… I mean the poem. ;0) -Curt

      • There were a minimum of a dozen of us at that table. There would have been no room for a big bowl. I’ve never seen a bowl the size she used for the popcorn since then. I use an air popper but yes, it goes in a bowl and it’s all mine too. 😊

  • Profile picture of Willow

    Willow wrote a new post

    Sensory Memories

    "why are you so addicted to popcorn?"   because on Saturday evenings... when I was small... (too young to know of more exciting things... like theaters and urban adventures) there was a table that became an arena   where board games and Uno took over and we gathered...

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    7 Comments
    • It’s good to have memories like that. Sometimes – when memories are triggered – you can’t help but be reminded of those carefree times when life was a little more magical and joyous.

      • On the farm it was always busy busy busy. These nights were like time capsules when everyone came together in love and joy…not for work. Thank you 😊

    • We can relate to this piece. There was a poetess on dup that was super at these type pieces also. We don’t remember her name only that she reminisce often on earlier happier times, kinda like Styxian. We like his pieces also.

      • I used to write this kind of memory-based poems all the time on DU. Styxian does a fantastic job at memory journeys. Thank you 😊

    • They were beautifully chaotic moments filled with love and the smell of fresh popcorn…on really special occasions we made banana splits too! Farm folk…these were cherished times. Thank you 😊

    • Beautifully penned, Willow. Another excellent write filled with ripe nostalgia my friend. I definitely remember board games and cards and to the point that there were always amazing snacks. My dad used to make fresh Carmel Corn when we’d have a movie night. It’s the little things in those sweet memories we hold on to most. Amazing read as always. Thanks for sharing. Appreciate you.

      Damian

      • I sometimes think farm folk and country folk have the most rich lives in terms of special moments. When everything stops so we can have these evenings, it makes them all the more precious. And my dad was a master at cheating playing Connect Four and loved Uno like nobody I know. We knew when he was about to lay some ornery on us because he’d grin like crazy and giggle. He never could have played poker. 😂 Thank you, my friend

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    Willow wrote a new post

    Monochromatic

    if you think about it... they don't have a lot of talent there's really only one color in their palette  and even that's growing thin so busy painting fences with their hatred they're not even trying to pretend hyper-focused on us vs them   (like there's really...

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    10 Comments
    • It has to taste unsavory indeed. No one wants to be led especially them. ;))

      • It’s the dangers of being in a herd of hateful bullies…they always want to be the one in charge. And they’re all being played like an organ. Those with any sense of decency are stepping off that fence these days. 🤦‍♀️

    • hello beautiful Willow I hate the division caused by everything… great write ❤️

    • You wrote this so well that it will apply wonderfully to other madmen after the present madmen are gone.

      • I sometimes wonder who is more mad…the madmen leading or the madmen supporting them? Would the leaders have risen to the top without the ones lifting them up? Aggravating in the extreme. Reasoning has left the room. Thank you, Brandon

        • There is wonderful quote by Bertolt Brecht that I wish people would sit and ponder on: “Don’t yet rejoice in his defeat, you men! Although the world stood up and stopped the bastard, The bitch that bore him is in heat again.”

    • Brilliantly penned, Willow. Excellent write delivered with brutal honesty my friend. This one needs to be read out loud while sitting around the bonfire. Chef’s kiss! Appreciate you.

      Damian

      • I’m stealing moments here and there to write these poetry month entries, but the bonfire is always burning. You wouldn’t believe the pile of wood I have waiting. Thank you, my friend 😊

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