I suppose its that time again to show my ragged attempts at the poetic purge on the page.

A lesson in Tammylogic today if you will whilst I sit half consious and feeling the ire rise like a flooding raingutter. There reasons why the blue of my internal field of vision is less distressing than it could be - would've been in years past when I was young, fearless and a tad stupid. Age gives you a thicker skin and a thinner veil when viewing the truth.

If you've been following the saga of the 'temperarily interesting according to Yahoo and ten friends' then you know the pretty little reject I recieved yesterday from Blue Mountain. Yes, I am disappointed - but I also would not serve a purpose if I didn't turn this into something positive.

Blue Mountain is a heavy hitter in the land of the poetic. To land a poem with this type of company is to step into the big league with the most difficult form of writing to publish next to ancient heiroglyphic - grafitti. Suffice it to say the warm glow remains that they even considered something from Tam's vault of horrors. And let me demonstrate 'why'.

A Wedding Wish

With light steps

And joyous hearts

May you walk together

In the light

We join you in celebration

May you dance through life

As new leaves

Led by gentle spring breezes

May love lift your spirits

As birds carried aloft

In turquoise summer skies

My you be to each other

As soft mountain rain

Refreshing the soul

And bringing new life

To barren ground

May you capture your dreams

With rainbow lariats

And set them free

Within your souls

Now you have the secret of immortality

Entwined in bands of gold

A promise

And the spirit of two souls

Made one

TL Hughes

5/5/89

That is the poem. Now - walk yourself over to Butterflynexile's page, or Jeff's page, or Debbie's page or if you visit multiply - check out Ms SaSa, or Sassy or Jakuper....Roguepoet. Sondi. Caressa Steele. So many poets. A Texas Poet. These are the masters at who's feet I grovel hoping the muse will toss me a bit of verbal gristle. Yet for almost a year....Blue Mountain 'considered' that poem above. So - it was a kind let down. Very kind.

And here's the deal. Damn Debbie, excuse me for cursing - but to think that your poetry is only a form of 'temporary therapy' blows my little mind. If I could pen half that well - I would not be treading the sludge of a day job. It is always the writers' choice to either write for self or write for publication. And the writer must have peace. But personally, I know so many who simply eclipse me with every keystroke. I offer you a gentle word of encouragement - if you ever decide to 'send it in' I will be waving your castle's colors in the small breeze I control.

So. That's the blog thought of the day. For those of you who encourage me THANK YOU SO MUCH! You bless me with your words. You keep my dragons fed and quiet. And I hope I can someday return the favor. Yahoo is about due to change up those interesting pages and I can get back to the fun of visiting my faithful friends - and those people I deeply admire.

Peace.

Or even two....the pic above my friends is pilfered from the internet after a search on the words rat's butt. *smirk*.

Is it possible? Has the gentle Tamster taken the advice of new buddies and decided to stop caring, thusly positioning herself in the formidable mindset of "I don't give a rodents rump about _______ (insert issue here) ____________ (and favorite expletive here)" Is it possible? Sure. I could also sprout a third eye in the center of my forehead. Think of the excitement that would bring to my little Yahoo page.

Seriously, I often come to the page mentally nekked. Little to say, and less time to say it. I am often motivated only by the random comments of lurkers and friends. There is legitimate and sound wisdome to be garnered from putting one's self in a state of 'not caring.' We can only take on so much, right? At some point we become full and I am past full. Truth is, there are things I know I should stop caring about because when you are powerless, caring only produces stomach acid, gray hairs and stress fat - non of which are cute on a Tammy. But there's the rub. What pressure per pound will produce a state of I no longer care....What kind of ulgy monster will surface when my protective shield comes up, I lock and load and consider the survival of my own sanity over the corporate soul sucking behemoth....what then.

I've said before. I'm not geared for the machine in which I am currently installed as a very small - silent cog...my teeth are shearing one by one....and when I fall clear....what then.

I agree. Sometimes it is not in your best interest to care about that which will not matter in five years or ten....that which your set of standards and your hard work will not change. If it only produces a paycheck....could you bring home a different brand of bacon? Yes. Is it worth your mental health? The sacrifice you make when you alienate your spouse, bark at your spawn, and spew sewage on your blog page? No.

then what the heck am I doin? Well, I'm draggin my sewage spewin' gray haired, corpulent, barkin' snarlin' rodent like back side through life.....just like some of you. When did we give up our dreams to join the machine? Who's gonna mutiny first?

PS. No rodents were harmed in the posting of this blog. Peace. - I'll be catching up this evening - stepping off my page. Lurking....snooping. Yup. That's how I roll....

Do you see it? That technological BANE of my existence encased in plastic above (so easily procured at walmart?) Yes. It's an IPod. First rule of engagement. Apples don't play nice with ANYTHING but other Apples - in the cyber world anyway. My wonderful MAGICAL Christmas morning was spent looking at the back of my son's hairy head whilst he cajoled, he begged, he muttered expletives, he fidgeted in his chair and spent five hours stuffing that vile contraption with 910 songs from the library of Fred. I ran all the spyware I had. I turned the PC off so many times, its now dustbunny free behind the desk. Ah yes. All for 2.5 days worth of music and a smiley teen. I sacrificed my PC time. Oh and lets frost the mess with printer malfunctions. It seems that Big Bertha my industrial strength child eating laser HP 2600n will absolutely NOT print if out of black ink. Enter child with multimedia school project and temper of a tasmanian DEVIL. So I switched over to old faithful the wonder printer....and thus began the cruel cycle of - computer/control panel/printers and faxes/ 30 second shut off/ test page.....AND IT DOESN'T friggin' print either. But HEY - FRED's IPOD works. (banging face on screen, hoping the delirium will be more pleasant than the reality)

Oh and lets cap the night by entertaining the GF and mom....in my hovel with knife holes in the floor and clay in the bathtub - oh and that lovely blue spot of sparkle silly putty under the chair..."But you're raising BOYS, Tamster....can't compare them to your child hood of purple gingham and white shag carpets, now can you?"

So here I am with one more day of freedom before the spinal fluid sucking behemoth that is my job slithers into my frame of vision and I accomplished nothing. No more pages on the novel. No wonderful poetry, no bad poetry - honestly the best moments I had over the past two days were singing carols at church and the two phone calls I got from cyber buddies I've never met face to face.

I did get a bicycle for Christmas. And its only partially true what they say about riding the damn thing. Yes, your brain does remember things like, back pedal to stop, and put your foot down, but your BODY is a whole nother thing. I used to ride my bike for hours.....yesterday I was WALKING it up hill after about five minutes, sweating and gasping for air. You see, my ability to ride that bicycle is similar to my ability to do so much else in life....my spirit remembers but my body will not comply. Theoretically all is possible, but I have neither the gut nor the stamina...and so I wither...is it too early for Guinness? Tam needs a happy hour.

I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas and that the white stuff you saw was not your hubby in his nappy bathrobe till three in the afternoon....I hope your children did not fight and cry...I hope your green bean casserole was hot, and did not meet with any area of your floor...that your tree stayed up and lit...and that all the technology in your house played nice. These are my wishes for next Christmas.

I have a few invites. I'm off to visit your page. I hope for chocolate chip cookies...peace.

One of the things I've learned about bein' a Tammy is that there must be a psychic gyroscope in my heart - because if I am anything after everything I am always trying to find that middle ground. That point of balance. When life is a pendulum I am standing there dead center waiting for it to stop over my head. I don't know why...but that's how I roll. So I often examine my little peabrain thoughts - after the past few smarta** blogs I find myself on the eve of the anniversary of a life changing event. 9/11. And like many of you...it just happened a few days ago didn't it? I can close my eyes and see the second plane - while I was putting on my panty hose and getting ready for my anonymous day...I remember what I wore. I remember driving to work and seeing no airplanes in the sky...I remember...

So many good writers define the pulse of a nation. They bleed current events. They rail against the indefinable wrongs...They protest and purge. And some of us - spew personal angst, forlorn moments and selfish love. I am mostly in the latter category, sad to say. And I often wonder if what I say is worth saying.

I dug through my vault of poetry from the dork side and found two lonely semi protest poems. The first was actually a song. A reggae song. Came complete with words and a melody - which is very rare for me. I still remember it. I remember writing it.  The second - I shared once with a guitarist who set it to music. Unfortunately like the moment in the grass - the guitarist and the music are gone. But again. I remember the moment...I ain't Dylan. But occassionally I do have a few things to say. peace.

Just Gone

Almighty God

And the government

Tell my people

How their moneys spent

It be gone yeh yeh

It be gone

I’m stuck in this little

Situation

Got a hand on me there’s

Complications

I be gone

One law

For you and me

‘Nother law

Set the killer free

Where’s justice

It be gone, yeh yeh

It be gone

One child

Go off to war

Mama’s son

A child no more

He be gone yeh hey

Just gone

TL (Hughes) Boehm

©8/31/87

Fighting For The Cause

Oh it’s brutal and it’s gory

And the wretched shed so many tears

For the benefit of glory

And the end to mankind’s fears

Do you see that man over there?

The one who lies in pain

Wipe the blood from your hands comrade

They’ll never notice the stain

What’s the point in dieing?

Fighting for the cause

Leaving the children crying

Lives trapped in terrorist jaws

We stand in the light of glory

Oh the honor and the fame

While so many sons play with toy guns

And from the tombstones learn daddy’s name

How many lives are shattered?

Loved ones killed in a foreign land

The give the flag for consolation

But can they really understand

Ooh the memorial services are beautiful

But it doesn’t explain the reason why

So many lives are turned upside down

And so many people must die

Don’t forget the survivors

The ones who lived to tell the tale

The ones who fought so valiantly

Whose courage didn’t fail?

See the burnished medals

On the twisted skeletons of war

Who’s heroism we worship

Who’s tortured souls are no more

TL (Hughes) Boehm – Music: Dave Madsen

©10/23/83

For the members who died as part

Of the Beirut peace keeping force

And all of America’s fallen sons

And daughters

Its nunya f***ing bi'nezz

How I have my fun

My fantasy the freak in me

Don't think you know the one



Don't get yourself frustrated

Fire yourself up in a sexual sweat

This sh*t aint free but you know me

Just a flower that ain't opened yet



Your fists wont fetch no passion

Your tongue won't flick no flame

This feminine food may set your mood

But my plates empty just the same



Don't think some erotic fairy

Gonna visit me in my sleep

Cuz I just freeze when I'm on my knees

Such a bitter promise I gotta keep



Its nunya f***in' bi'nezz

If I sleep alone at night

Wish you could see the woman in me

Get your freak on in the light.



oops. Hate it when I have a poetic fart like this.

TLBoehm

Yeah I had all day to write and compose - and there were flowers and fairies and flames and my butt butted in and wrote a fart - a noxious poetic emission - why why? Why I ask you am I profane? Sigh. Off to find the gentle muse who inspires me and beat her senseless with my mousepad.

The idea was to use the fifteen f words in a poem....so - it does rhyme right?

Yeah well I got preachy on this one.  I'm just tryna stay "UP" today so here is a rhymer for you and each line begins with a subsequent letter of the alphabet. I think I got them all....

Above the chaos you see

Beyond your earthbound destiny

Cradled in the master’s hands

Dreams await and sacred plans

Eternal stuff for your weary soul

Fueled by love to make you whole

Generate the light where shadows break

Heal the cracks the wounds mistakes

Illuminate the chains by which you’re bound

Just take His hand and know you’re found

Kindred spirit deep within

Love never ends where you begin

My precious child I love you more

Never doubt what you’re created for

Only rest in me I give you peace

Protection, power and sweet release

Quiet child I am your source

Removing rocks I set your course

Swift water rises and winds may blow

Trust in me and this you know

Unconditional love precious and true

Victory and strength belong to you

Wherever you are I am with you there

Xoye your shepherd within my care

You are priceless by my infinite design

Zion waits – dear child mine.

TB 090706

Subliminal vision

Limited possibility

Encased in space between this

Abyss of spirit

And brain

Quantum logic

Finite Time

Objecthood of your emotions

Nullified

Odd property

Of a mundane existence

Causality devoid of dreams

It seems I am the mirrored fear

Lurking half heard

Absurd

In my circumstance

The dance of light and dark

Marked by linear thought

Caught prisms refracted

Reality defined

By a series of loops and lines.

TL Boehm

07/10/06

our realities are twisted in the retina and remembrance of the beholder the assignment was simply to use the seven highlighted words in a poem...peace.

Today I consider my own reality. Signed on to AOL and the first thing I see is "Steve Irwin dead at 44" because the cessation of a life seems so much more noteworthy than the life itself...Odd how we cater to the media mediocre - isn't it. 

Do you read your blogments? Yesterday a good friend on 360 said I seemed even more hopeful and cynical at the same time than I was when I was in my 20s - which I take as a compliment - thinking that perhaps I have not been numbed by 20 years of deferred dreams. i'm just going through another one of those "odd times" I suppose.

My teen spawn has decided to start a band. If you know me - I wouldn't have to say anything else - and you would walk away quietly - muttering prayers and voodoo incantations to protect yourself from the inevitable banshee...but most of you - don't know me that well so here it goes....HEY GOD THATS MY DREAM DEMMMIT! I made a secret promise to never live vicariously through my children. I promised to support them. I prayed that they take something I did - and do it better...BUT THAT DIDN'T INCLUDE MY DREAM. I'm not supposed to covet the destiny of my own child. God today I hate being me. I hate having what I wanted thrown back in my face. I wish I were happy being a mom, an accountant, a wife. Why can I not settle for the life I was given. WHAT IS MY MALFUNCTION? 

Secretly I hope my boy becomes everything he wants with a side of green chile/cheese fries too. But I also deeply, deeply wish - for the resurrection of my own dreams. It comes back to that thing. That thing I felt this weekend. That restoration thing. I want restoration. But I am afraid to try because I have never been successful. Yes, I am both more hopeful and cynical at the same time because my world spins faster now. My time is more limited - from my perspective. I fear more because I know more. But I still dream. Occassionally when my family sleeps and Stevie Nicks is on the radio...I forget what the mirror and the calendar say - and I go back to a time when I thought I could sing....thought I was a good writer....thought I would rise....and I remember. 

I gave the boy a short 'don't do what I did' speech and told him to have fun. I'm trying not to ask questions....I smile when he pens a new set of lyrics or thumps out a phantom bass line against his stomach with his thumb. I try to resist the pull of my past...Don't tell him ok? It will be our secret. 

Peace.  

I was just at the "summer home" (ie - other blogspot) catching up on the saga of the disappearing poetry group - yup - it happens there too. Pages disappear like barbequed wienies at a college cookout...observing how a new poetry group has already sprung up to take the place of the old. (sorta like weeds in my front yard) I admit. Yesterday I waffled. I joined up and then thought - WTH am I doing here...It reminded me of the time I wore a jean mini skirt to a Kingdom Hall meeting.....(HEY I HAD TIGHTS AND A SWEATER ON...and it wasn't a micro mini neither, it was just well, above the knees a tad) anyway. I backed out - and was extended a second invite. And I'm glad I accepted because while I am sure there will be lots of oozing and wetness - there is also this wonderful social conciousness thing happening. (unfortunately today - I am in smartass mode and can't think of anything socially relevent...) This week we observed the year mark of Katrina. In a couple weeks, we will observe the five year mark of 9/11...While many of us blog to escape - some of us cannot let the days go by without the ache in our hearts - the compassion within that reminds us we are also humans who have lost....humans who fight on...

Anyway - I was reminded of the struggle I too have faced in my life. Where I was. My physcial surroundings in the "barrios" of Albuquerque - but also in the "slum" of my own heart. My emotional "ghetto" before "ghetto" was cool. So I found a really bad poem from oh almost 20 years ago and thought I would torment - uh - share....Even though I am no longer walking through fields dotted with beer cans and broken needles (and pit bulls) I remember...

Peace.

The picture above is a shot of "Jetty Rolls" on the banks of the Rio Grande. Keeps the ducks out and the transients in...

Lost In the City

See the trash along the street

The broken glass crunchin’ under my feet

Children’s tears are the rain

Echoes the pain

Each time another hope dies

And the billboard signs

And broken white lines

Are my trees and flowers and skies

I’m lost in this city

One sinner in a burnin’ hell

Lost in the city

Like a man in a prison cell

Hear the sirens in the night

Thousand dangers away from the light

Sometimes I feel

Like I’m starting to reel

On the verge of an endless fall

There’s a light at the end

Of the tunnel but then

I don’t see it at all

See the houses tumblin’ down

Old men sleepin’ on the cold hard ground

And the women who walk

And the preachers who talk

‘Bout the sin and the lust and disgrace

People tryin’ to sell

Peace of Heaven and Hell

Get me a ticket out of this place

TL Hughes (Boehm)

© 1987

3/13  7/16/87

Drawn deeper

From the shallows

The shore secluded

Treading the water of my thoughts

That sparkle skipping tips of waves

Glimpsing shadows of you

Luminous beneath the green

The aquamarine shifting lit

Obsidian eyes link for an instant

You call from the deeper water

Cool movement

Liquid

Infinite motion

This ocean soul

Rolls through my spirit

Surrender to the beckoning

A superficial sacrifice

Drowning in shallows

Yet you turn around

You gave

Cresting waves of pleasure

Yielded your treasure

Cast up on shifting sands

Held in my trembling hands

This gift of love

You save

TL Boehm 07/07/06 



This is my "love for poet" poem...don't get the wrong idea but deep calls to deep and also to those of us who are shallow and can only wish we were deep.

The picture is of the Lake Superior shoreline...not my pic - I googled it.

So the above poem was posted on my other page http://360.yahoo.com/lyricotomy  - and waffly me - I was going to delete it but I'm keeping it because yes I am anal and weird.

Santulan said something yesterday that snapped my internal pathos back to a moment of clarity....

• Santu…
  
• Offline IM

interesting is the fact that you it seems don't want to rise from this. re member that here it is not the people you are worrying about but yourself. learn to forgive yourself first. I dunno if this camre out right but MHO

Saturday September 2, 2006

Do I really not want to rise from the sludge that is my internal and external life? Could it be that I enjoy the steady diet of crap and angst? Do we really settle for displeasure, futility...regret? Because maybe its easier, more familiar than the desires we claim to have? You got me San...For all my yelling and screaming and bad poetry....do I really try to fly? Most days, suffice it to say - no. I just stare out the window and wish someone else would lift me up. (That is why San is my cyberchild.)

So - this weekend - I plan to do a couple of things - it doesn't matter what they are - yet. But you know...I really do want to rise above. Yes. I want better. And I do have two choices....put up or shut up....LOL

I'm off to find garbage bags, lava soap - and a sharp pencil....

Peace!

Cast away in a placid scene

shed sandy shores for the burning green

Of my hideaway underneath the leaves

Missing you and my spirit grieves

Our moments shared on summer days

Remembering the tide that plays

Casting lines of dreams along the shore

Such a shame you cast your dreams no more

On shallow moments left behind

Memories fade until I'm blind

Deeper water she called to you

My verdant world turns cooler blue.



TLB 083106

Its not that the poem is particularly "good" or "deep" but it is an extension of yesterday's Song Challenge. The two just fit. So Read this and read the post before...tell me what you think...(yeah I'm weird...)

Peace

I could rant about my lousy day yesterday - still the same old same old. I got coworkers who won't, don't or can't listen - who have no sense of urgency - and DCon - well - DCon (codespeak for boss) doesn't take "no" for an answer which means -eventually I get asked the question everyone else already answered - normally on a subject of which I am ignorant because I was never hired to have that knowledge. And I'm tired of it. I just want to call in today and work on my novel. (codespeak for blog all day)

But I got more pressing issues. I have a dear friend who just got some life changing news. Terry and I have this history. She was part of that thing. That band thing. She's a damn good singer/songwriter - but she outgrew it too. Anyway, I've known her since I was 14 - and we still talk...Imagine THAT. I'm asking - if you pray. Pray for her and her husband. They recieved a "positive" diagnosis this week of prostate cancer. Here's my spin. Its not a death sentence. Its never a death sentence till they close the box and throw the shovel of dirt on you. But it is scary. It is real life - and it is her soulmate.  I'll put the link at the end of this blog - I'm not sure if she is friends only but if she is, shoot her an email. Send her love and happiness and light.

http://360.yahoo.com/profile-uG87Dg8heqzOexma.Gqxw1FB4AUH

I have a random poem - thinking of Tigress this morning - again - but wrote this yesterday before I knew what was up with TerBer....peace.  Don't get it twisted. I'm talking about the band, not the chicas.  Terry....we won't say goodbye. ever.

It was just a dream

Fireflies and indigo skies

Spotlights and limousines

A bit of black lace round your face

And a back beat that would not die

Tap an SOS to the heart of you

As across the years I cry

Not my nature to say Goodbye

When rhythm was a rush

The hush of a backlit stage

Turn the empty page to song

I gave my life but I was wrong

Sing a broken chord to the memory

Three strands broken but Im not free

Cuz I cannot say Goodbye

I still hear you sing in sunburst skies

When the rain whispers a lyrical beat

On my window pane

I still go a little insane for the moment

A song is born immortal but yet dreams die

Now I know death is the same as goodbye.  

TL Boehm

08/23/06  SP exercise - I Love you - but (saying good bye)

Run to me my broken child

And I will make you whole

I am the one who loves you most

Who breathes life into your soul

Run to me my broken one

And I will set you free

I’m here with strong arms open

Turn around and run to me.

You lie sleepless silence shattered

In the broken glass of your day

Your fragile spirit tattered

Your hope is swept away

In the deluge of delusions

Frustrations born of pain

But I am no mere illusion

Caught in a drop of rain

On my knees at your feet

I lift your tear soaked face to the light

I am your fortress your retreat

From terrors in the night

I am your warrior, your peace, your path

As your world tumbles down

I am shelter in the aftermath

You will not crash you will not drown

Let me hold you safe in my arms

Put your weary head against my breast

I melt the ice I keep you warm

This pulse of love beating in my chest

I have loved you before eternity

And after time stands still

You are beautiful and whole in me

I love you now and always will

Just a love note from your “Father”

TL Boehm

082206

Beleive it or not - this was 'given' to me this morning - from "daddy" to pass along. Don't know who its for - but whoever you are...you know all is forgiven. You are loved beyond measure...treasured beyond belief....peace

Sometimes I am amazed at where my brain goes in a morning - or a millisecond. Buffi posted about this in her blog on Monday or Tuesday I think - the random thoughts that travel the dendrite wilderness unabated by logic. We all do it, don't we?

I was thinking of Susan - specifically now that she is on Yahoo....see Susan and Buffi and I - we had this "thing" - this music thing - this band thing. And of the three of us - I am the angst ridden b*tch who has never fully "let it go" - I still want that thing they outgrew. So I am brought back to that place this morning - the soft rain on my window reminding me of Arkansas summer days, and a time when my life was laid out before me in so many sparkling flashpoints of possibility...all faded.

And a sappy poem came to mind (oh my gawd not another implement of torture from the Tammy vault of angst and bad poetry...oh yes - I have to. I am compelled to post bad poetry all over cyberspace....ahh...the sucking sound of alliteration and overextended metaphors...)

So here it is...my random poem. Yesterday I was all pink and happy. Today - not so much. Peace

Lead Me Home

The rain falls

Pelting the first yellow leaves

Of autumn

The days grow shorter

The nights cold

A warm fire

Chuckles on my hearth

But the embers don’t warm

That freezing part of me

That used to be a beating heart

The road to your door

Is endless now

A scorched and twisted rope

Stretched taut around my heart

The miles between us

Take my breath away

Can’t believe you’d fade from my life

Radiant like a wispy cloud

Glowing in the final rays of a sunset

Now darkness wraps round me

And the light won’t com on in your window

To lead me home

TL Boehm

C: 86 and 11/94

For Evonne

Picture is taken from www.stormeffects.com  (aol search for yellow leaves)

So since I am feeling extremely rebellious today when I should be analyzing away - I'd rather blog away the hours. Haven't had the opp to visit everyone yet - its been on the fly - and I really should do some real work - but I am not motivated.  Its a really bad thing.

My friend's baby's babies are ok - so if you prayed...thank you. For those of you who frequent Sacred_songspace - I will have a 'treat' for you on Thursday....Butterflynxile is bringing coffee cake...for our 'tea'...yeah.

Buffi  suggested I leave my Lyricotomy page up (she's only been there once, what does she know...) actually - Buff has most of the collected idiocy of Tammy over the past 25 years... - so I guess after I post all the random poems on here - I will. As I get a poem - I'll post it there, post it here, post it on Multiply, post it on a post it - toast it and roast it - and then compost the whole mess.....Some of you are thinking - "she's a damn waffle" - some of you don't care - and some of you just skim the blog no matter what I post looking for boxers, thongs, and oozing. Its ok...I'm an enabler of both good and bad habits, lol. So if you hate me - love my poems - you can go to Lyricotomy. If you love me - hate my poems - then forgive me. If you hate everything and just want to leave cyberdroppings in my comments - I have big shovel...

So here is the final flipping poem for the day - another picture exercise - and I loved the pic and wanted to spin it....but I got thrown from the merrigoround...

From ash and sadness

I am the wellspring deep

The other side of madness

A place of dreamless sleep

In halflight I will wait

Cadence of life marks your fate

From the blur of tears

I am but fog and frost

Adrift within your fears

The lamentations of the lost

I bleed when children cry

Forming feathers so you fly

I am the watcher unknown

The wraith waiting at your door

The trip you take alone

To the place you’ve been before

Hold you lifeless then

Set you free again

TL Boehm

07/03/06

Another picture poem...I wanted to do something less obvious...but didn't quite manage it.