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Posts Tagged ‘memories’


Upon your last exhalation I hovered

over your empty beautiful vessel

while the warmth of your spirit cloaked me as a

heavy woolen blanket. Our last

communication of love will remain in

existence within the very fibers

that constitute this being of whom you have

invested so many of your

days here upon this dusty soil. Our last

earthly consumption, to drink of your love,

your grace, your prayers. A spirit which has reached the

heavens on high yet continues

to linger within my soul. I aspire, hope

to walk that path destined eternally

Kimberley Formosa © 2012

Pellucid Peace by Dorothy Bruce

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September 14, 2001

Jets flying

Tabitha Rogers, 8, carries flags while helping prepare for a 9/11 memorial.

Tears streaming

Hearts united

Hands held

Prayers rising

Candles burning

We are America

Fathers

Mothers

Sisters

Brothers

Rich

Poor

Stand together

Side by side

Helping

Caring

Committed

We are America

Kimberley Formosa © 2011

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Without you.

loneliness

within

has claimed me

completely

which helps

this pen

to pour its ink

upon these

pages

words from a wounded heart

which has realized

the truth

of the years

which do not lie

the dreams of a soul

which has learned

to appreciate

Life size statue of a woman at Oak Grove Cemetery in La Crosse, Wisconsin

the bitterness

of the tears

which stain

my cheeks

Tis true

we lie our heads

down to sleep

under the same moon

Tis true

the sun rises

each morning

kissing the dew away

every day

without you

Kimberley Formosa © 2011

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That is all it was

The Willow Tree Fountain. Chatsworth.

Just a few days

Not a lifetime

A collision of emotion

escorted by memories

strengthened by

loneliness

likened to the force

of a glorious fountain

wit and wisdom

immediately

smothered

the flow of life

Hope of affection

Fell incredulously

Deserved

Broken

Understood

Never to be forgotten

Kimberley Formosa © 2011

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If there was anything more

I could have done for you

to heal the pain

that struck

your heart

the ache

your mind

the nightmares

your spirit

the tears

mingled with prayers

the betrayal of one

the youngest

that stole away

the beat of your heart

your hopes and dreams

the breath of your life

After walking

that long

dry

hard

path

with you

holding your hand

singing as you prayed

I promise to you

not to allow

the same

to happen

to me

Born from my womb

some stay

some stray

I choose to live

and love

to find the beauty

in every breath

She didn’t die

She stopped living

Then she was dead

Kimberley Formosa © 2011

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One golden strand

of fur.

Is there ever only one

We love you Sammy!

strand of

golden fur?

Absolutely Not.

There are billows of fur.

Enough to make

the softest and

cushiest pillows

of fur.

There are piles of fur

cascading down

the stairs fur.

attempting to follow

as you walk

from one room

to the next fur.

Well, there is enough fur

to cover your clothes

with fur.

Golden fur has integrated

into every area

of our home

and our cars

and our laps

and our hearts.

Kimberley Formosa © 2011

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“I remember I used to half believe and wholly play with fairies when I was a child. What heaven can be more real than to retain the spirit-world of childhood, tempered and balanced by knowledge and common-sense..” Beatrix Potter’s Journal, 17 November 1896 National Trust collection

If I were supping

at a small oak table

set before a blazing fire

with hot soup steaming

before my face

and warm crusty bread

with sweet butter

melting there on

and Earl Grey

keeping my hands warm

If at this table

by my side

engaging in the most

delightful conversation

were Beatrix herself

Then I would not complain

of another

gray

hazy

foggy

rainy

chilly

May day

“…and as I was quietly tramping about in the old wood, there I spotted him!” she said.

Kimberley Formosa © 2011

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