tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53345000953730601032024-02-19T11:59:31.608-05:00Minstrel's SongAnd the Poet Sings!!!Marisa Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09818816716586417433noreply@blogger.comBlogger17125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5334500095373060103.post-40145737619203568362014-04-16T12:57:00.000-04:002014-04-16T12:57:43.649-04:00follow me on Bolglovin<a href="http://www.bloglovin.com/blog/12128439/?claim=6wmpxynx844">Follow my blog with Bloglovin</a><br />
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<br />Marisa Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09818816716586417433noreply@blogger.com0East Northport, NY 11731, USA40.8647497 -73.31191590000003140.7686747 -73.473277400000029 40.960824699999996 -73.150554400000033tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5334500095373060103.post-87833049905644959182014-04-05T09:18:00.000-04:002014-04-05T09:23:14.497-04:00Composed Aesthetically <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Marisa Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09818816716586417433noreply@blogger.com0East Northport, NY 11731, USA40.8647497 -73.31191590000003140.7686747 -73.473277400000029 40.960824699999996 -73.150554400000033tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5334500095373060103.post-20908217217977074262013-07-07T08:06:00.002-04:002013-07-07T08:06:48.771-04:00B By Sara Kay <span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><u>B By Sara Kay </u></b></span><div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><u><br /></u></b></span></div>
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If I should have a daughter, instead of "Mom," she's gonna call me "Point B," because that way she knows that no matter what happens, at least she can always find her way to me. And I'm going to paint solar systems on the backs of her hands so she has to learn the entire universe before she can say, "Oh, I know that like the back of my hand." And she's going to learn that this life will hit you hard in the face, wait for you to get back up just so it can kick you in the stomach. But getting the wind knocked out of you is the only way to remind your lungs how much they like the taste of air. There is hurt, here, that cannot be fixed by Band-Aids or poetry. So the first time she realizes that Wonder Woman isn't coming, I'll make sure she knows she doesn't have to wear the cape all by herself because no matter how wide you stretch your fingers, your hands will always be too small to catch all the pain you want to heal. Believe me, I've tried. "And, baby," I'll tell her, don't keep your nose up in the air like that. I know that trick; I've done it a million times. You're just smelling for smoke so you can follow the trail back to a burning house, so you can find the boy who lost everything in the fire to see if you can save him. Or else find the boy who lit the fire in the first place, to see if you can change him." But I know she will anyway, so instead I'll always keep an extra supply of chocolate and rain boots nearby, because there is no heartbreak that chocolate can't fix. Okay, there's a few heartbreaks that chocolate can't fix.But that's what the rain boots are for, because rain will wash away everything, if you let it. I want her to look at the world through the underside of a glass-bottom boat, to look through a microscope at the galaxies that exist on the pinpoint of a human mind, because that's the way my mom taught me. That there'll be days like this. ♫ There'll be days like this, my momma said. ♫ When you open your hands to catch and wind up with only blisters and bruises; when you step out of the phone booth and try to fly and the very people you want to save are the ones standing on your cape; when your boots will fill with rain, and you'll be up to your knees in disappointment. And those are the very days you have all the more reason to say thank you. Because there's nothing more beautiful than the way the ocean refuses to stop kissing the shoreline, no matter how many times it's sent away. You will put the wind in winsome, lose some. You will put the star in starting over, and over. And no matter how many land mines erupt in a minute, be sure your mind lands on the beauty of this funny place called life. And yes, on a scale from one to over-trusting, I am pretty damn naive. But I want her to know that this world is made out of sugar. It can crumble so easily, but don't be afraid to stick your tongue out and taste it. “Baby,” I’ll tell her, “remember, your momma is a worrier, and your poppa is a warrior, and you are the girl with small hands and big eyes who never stops asking for more." Remember that good things come in threes and so do bad things. And always apologize when you've done something wrong, but don't you ever apologize for the way your eyes refuse to stop shining. Your voice is small, but don't ever stop singing. And when they finally hand you heartache, when they slip war and hatred under your door and offer you handouts on street-corners of cynicism and defeat, you tell them that they really ought to meet your mother.</div>
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<span style="color: #666666;">About --Sarah Kay</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<i><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Garamond, serif;">At a young age, Sarah started to write poetry; at 14,
she started to visit the famous Bowery Poetry Club in Manhattan’s East Village.
She performed and held her own against performers at least a decade her senior;
now in her 20’s Kay is a successful spoken word poet and co-directs V.O.I.C.E (
Vocal Outreach Creative Expression) since 2004- this program encourages people,
especially teenagers to use spoken word to implement their expression.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="color: #666666;">Her poem "B" has been turned into </span><span style="color: red;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/B-Sarah-Kay/dp/1612182798" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">a </span><span style="text-decoration: none;">hardcover book >></span></span></a> </span></span></i><i><span style="color: #7f7f7f; font-family: Garamond, serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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I found this poem or performance on TED Talk a segment called; Spoken-word fireworks (8 talks)<br /><br /><a href="http://www.ted.com/talks/sarah_kay_if_i_should_have_a_daughter.html?source=email#.Udgb2p1HSL9.email"><span style="color: red;">You can see Sarah's video here</span></a> the other 7 talks can be watched on<span style="color: red;"> <span style="color: red;"><a href="http://www.ted.com/playlists/87/spoken_word_fireworks.html">here</a> </span>.</span> I love Ted Talk this venue is inspiring, thought-provoking and entertaining, I like to share it with you all; enjoy!</div>
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Marisa Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09818816716586417433noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5334500095373060103.post-39061411700487880192013-07-05T09:33:00.001-04:002013-07-05T09:33:08.987-04:00<span style="background-color: #f4d3cc; color: #333333; font-family: 'Rock Salt'; font-size: 16px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 22px;"><a href="http://www.bloglovin.com/blog/8974191/?claim=52vrw226xyh">Follow my blog with Bloglovin</a></span>Marisa Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09818816716586417433noreply@blogger.com0East Northport, NY 11731, USA40.8647497 -73.31191590000003140.768155699999994 -73.473964400000028 40.9613437 -73.149867400000034tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5334500095373060103.post-50693184553831522722013-04-18T07:05:00.000-04:002013-04-18T07:05:06.413-04:00 Poem in Your Pocket Day<br />
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Today is Poem in Your Pocket Day<br />
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<a href="http://www.poets.org/page.php/prmID/409?utm_source=Poem+in+Your+Pocket+2013+Newsletter&utm_campaign=pocketday_blast&utm_medium=email">http://www.poets.org/page.php/prmID/409?utm_source=Poem+in+Your+Pocket+2013+Newsletter&utm_campaign=pocketday_blast&utm_medium=email</a><br />
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<b><u>from The Holy Sonnets</u></b><br />
<b><u><br /></u></b>
Batter my heart, three-person'd God, for you<br />
As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend;<br />
That I may rise and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend<br />
Your force to break, blow, burn, and make me new.<br />
I, like an usurp'd town to another due,<br />
Labor to admit you, but oh, to no end;<br />
Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend,<br />
But is captiv'd, and proves weak or untrue.<br />
Yet dearly I love you, and would be lov'd fain,<br />
But am betroth'd unto your enemy;<br />
Divorce me, untie or break that knot again,<br />
Take me to you, imprison me, for I,<br />
Except you enthrall me, never shall be free,<br />
Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.<br />
<b>John Donne</b><br />
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<b>Peace on Earth</b><br />
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The Archer is wake!<br />
The Swan is flying!<br />
Gold against blue<br />
An Arrow is lying.<br />
There is hunting in heaven—<br />
Sleep safe till tomorrow.<br />
The Bears are abroad!<br />
The Eagle is screaming!<br />
Gold against blue<br />
Their eyes are gleaming!<br />
Sleep!<br />
Sleep safe till tomorrow.<br />
The Sisters lie<br />
With their arms intertwining;<br />
Gold against blue<br />
Their hair is shining!<br />
The Serpent writhes!<br />
Orion is listening!<br />
Gold against blue<br />
His sword is glistening!<br />
Sleep!<br />
There is hunting in heaven—<br />
Sleep safe till tomorrow.<br />
<b>William Carlos Williams</b><br />
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<b><u>Where the Sidewalk Ends</u></b><br />
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There is a place where the sidewalk ends<br />
And before the street begins,<br />
And there the grass grows soft and white,<br />
And there the sun burns crimson bright,<br />
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight<br />
To cool in the peppermint wind.<br />
Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black<br />
And the dark street winds and bends.<br />
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow<br />
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,<br />
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go<br />
To the place where the sidewalk ends.<br />
Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,<br />
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,<br />
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know<br />
The place where the sidewalk ends.<br />
<b>Shel Silverstein</b><br />
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<h1 class="TITLE" style="background-color: #f9f9f9; color: #cc6600; font-family: verdana, arial, 'lucida sans', helvetica, geneva, sans-serif; font-size: medium;">
Eletelephony</h1>
<span style="background-color: #f9f9f9; font-family: verdana, arial, 'lucida sans', helvetica, geneva, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"> by Laura Elizabeth Richards </span><br style="background-color: #f9f9f9; font-family: verdana, arial, 'lucida sans', helvetica, geneva, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;" /><pre style="background-color: #f9f9f9; font-family: verdana, arial, 'lucida sans', helvetica, geneva, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Once there was an elephant,
Who tried to use the telephant—
No! No! I mean an elephone
Who tried to use the telephone—
(Dear me! I am not certain quite
That even now I've got it right.)
Howe'er it was, he got his trunk
Entangled in the telephunk;
The more he tried to get it free,
The louder buzzed the telephee—
(I fear I'd better drop the song
Of elephop and telephong!)</pre>
<span style="background-color: #f9f9f9; font-family: verdana, arial, 'lucida sans', helvetica, geneva, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">- See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/22275#sthash.dZUkOWzZ.dpuf</span><br />
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Marisa Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09818816716586417433noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5334500095373060103.post-55368010021528935272013-02-17T10:14:00.000-05:002013-02-17T10:14:00.667-05:00Resolved Devotions<br />
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<u>Resolved Devotions<o:p></o:p></u></div>
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By Marisa Bernhard</div>
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I punched the air and kicked the wind, demanding my wants. Everything happens for a reason I am told. With
clenched fists I face the world, is this how you see me? I am sorry that is wrong.
I am humbled and ashamed the verity existed my prayer was answered. Gratitude I
did proclaim, but acceptance was strictly denied.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I am in awe of your gift; an answered prayer devoted to me?<o:p></o:p></div>
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I understand how it works now, a gift received must be
honored, graciously I said “Thank you …oh how kind.” Just like a Victorian
princess serving tea!<o:p></o:p></div>
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At this time I stand here with open hands, and a full heart.
I want you to see my joy. My happiness is hidden; protected not to be disturbed
it hides behind fear. My heart was
broken into a million pieces, selfishly I must admit if not for one reason but
for many things. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Your present I realize was meant to be – so often I ask do I
deserve this. How can that be?<o:p></o:p></div>
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My heart screams out above all of Fears rants,
“YES….believe, trust, it is so right!”<o:p></o:p></div>
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That is the truth; I cannot question it any longer, I will
not! <o:p></o:p></div>
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Fear will run amuck and create havoc to my emotions and yet
I know my heart has a voice now since love settled in.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I survive by denying…. It is a battle of wills that I am
learning to let go.<o:p></o:p></div>
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A prayer answered deserved its moment of respect – I hid it
in a box with happiness, trust and love, these things should not be
confined! Yet, protected they need to
be accepted and truly felt.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Thank you!<o:p></o:p></div>
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Marisa Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09818816716586417433noreply@blogger.com0East Northport, NY 11731, USA40.8647497 -73.31191590000003140.7686752 -73.473277400000029 40.9608242 -73.150554400000033tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5334500095373060103.post-67681023442174875162013-02-16T08:34:00.001-05:002013-02-16T08:34:35.123-05:00Pushing the Moon<br />
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<u><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Pushing the Moon<o:p></o:p></span></u></div>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br /></span></o:p></div>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">By Marisa Bernhard</span></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">I stood at the edge, my feet barely touching the
ground. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">The moon rose in front of me huge and bright. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">I saw it all for the first time…it was hard getting here no
doubt. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">A sad and crooked road led me to the moon.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">If I touch it can I push it back to a happier time….how hard
do I need to push?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">I stood at the edge in front of the moon-<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Everything became illuminated…I took it all in.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">I knew in my heart, that we were all misplaced.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">I and he traveled from the west, they traveled from the east.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Bright, round and full lit the way ….on common ground we
met.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">We all knew….<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Marisa Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09818816716586417433noreply@blogger.com2East Northport, NY 11731, USA40.8647497 -73.31191590000003140.7686752 -73.473277400000029 40.9608242 -73.150554400000033tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5334500095373060103.post-26123533696865075982013-01-21T08:00:00.000-05:002013-01-22T05:59:37.469-05:00Their Secret Language<br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u><span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 11pt;">Their
Secret Language<o:p></o:p></span></u></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 11pt;"><o:p><span style="text-decoration: none;"> </span></o:p></span></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 11pt;">By Marisa
Bernhard<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 11pt;"><o:p><span style="text-decoration: none;"> </span></o:p></span></b><span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 11pt;">They speak with smiles and
laughter<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 11pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 11pt;">It resonates ubiquitously
near me<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 11pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 11pt;">A trifecta unbroken
committed to speak their words, beam their honesty, and utter their thoughts<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 11pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 11pt;">They clamor about with no
disregard, rendering their expressions to one another but no other<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 11pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 11pt;">They are here; near always
close by, my love for them will never die<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 11pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 11pt;">My demands are many I am
aware; a labor of love in hopes that transcends….yes I am the outsider that is
okay I listen and sigh….and happy some days<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 11pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 11pt;">My home filled with noise….a
language of secrets that needs no rendition; it is understood they express
what’s been hidden<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 11pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 11pt;">For so many years their
words were unspoken, their smiles were unseen, their laughter forgotten, their
souls were deflated, their wishes demanded.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 11pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 11pt;">They remember the past
they know what it’s like to speak of a language that cannot be converted with
words, although understood with amusement and mirth.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 11pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 11pt;">I stand on the sidelines
and guard the three….<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 11pt;">I listen and do understand
because they are my family!!!!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Marisa Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09818816716586417433noreply@blogger.com0East Northport, NY 11731, USA40.8647497 -73.31191590000003140.7686752 -73.473277400000029 40.9608242 -73.150554400000033tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5334500095373060103.post-22564962539289509772012-12-28T19:56:00.000-05:002012-12-28T22:13:39.980-05:00Blessed Laments<br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u><span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aparajita;">Blessed
Laments<o:p></o:p></span></u></b></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aparajita;">By Marisa Bernhard <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aparajita;">One day, I am actually going to wake up and see
what I have missed. </span><span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aparajita;">I once had a glimpse of me, I was smart like
Einstein, Marie Curie and whoever invented penicillin! I was cool like Janice
Joplin, Stevie Nicks and all the hippy girls on my block when I was five.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aparajita;">You see I wear holey jeans with black clogs,
clogs that are splattered with paint from my sister’s basement! <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I comb my hair, wear chocolate lip gloss
with eye shadow, spray on Chanel No. 5, and I love pearls! That’s me too! SO
WHAT!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aparajita;">I cry often it blurs my vision; I worry and
agonize habitually – does it numb me? I think so! I wonder if everyone sees
what I feel and often claim to no one don’t you see why I am this way! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aparajita;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aparajita;">In the morning I painstakingly sew up all my
open wounds tucking inside them like batting my fears and worries----will this
ever end! <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want to say SO WHAT but that
frightens me too! I am put together a train wreck of sorts I face the outside. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aparajita;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aparajita;">I sit in boxes; boxes that move, boxes that
don’t – all day long ….finally I come back and need to listen to something
other than the my voice shouting all my mistakes that I created since the
beginning of time……some days its Van – <u>“Glad Tidings”</u> plays loud and I
can open my ears and hear laughter and see smiles all around me!<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aparajita;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aparajita;">I am truly blessed!!!!!!! For they are not far
and they do not judge….we rescued one another – they love, I love, they look, I
smile, they laugh, I listen - They heal; I am healed!<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aparajita;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Aparajita;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
Marisa Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09818816716586417433noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5334500095373060103.post-21504454858961984392012-02-24T00:16:00.000-05:002012-02-24T00:16:01.486-05:00Minstrel's Song: Being Quiet .....<a href="http://minstrelssong.blogspot.com/2012/02/being-quiet.html?spref=bl">Minstrel's Song: Being Quiet .....</a>: Silence By Marisa Bernhard When she spoke, she didn’t speak with grace or with smooth flow of words. Her speech was always choppy and...Marisa Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09818816716586417433noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5334500095373060103.post-40492734866037430862012-02-18T06:11:00.000-05:002012-02-18T06:11:17.004-05:00Minstrel's Song: Being Quiet .....<a href="http://minstrelssong.blogspot.com/2012/02/being-quiet.html?spref=bl">Minstrel's Song: Being Quiet .....</a>: Silence By Marisa Bernhard When she spoke, she didn’t speak with grace or with smooth flow of words. Her speech was always choppy and...Marisa Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09818816716586417433noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5334500095373060103.post-5046699009881209652012-02-18T06:07:00.000-05:002012-02-18T06:07:03.769-05:00Being Quiet .....<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><u><span style="font-family: "Script MT Bold";">Silence</span></u><span style="font-family: "Script MT Bold";"> <span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>By Marisa Bernhard </span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Script MT Bold";"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">When she spoke, she didn’t speak with grace or with smooth flow of words. Her speech was always choppy and broken up. </span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Script MT Bold";"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">She struggled with words, not because of an impediment of any kind but because it was so much easier for her to be silent. </span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Script MT Bold";"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Ah! Silence a pause a rest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Keeping her lips resting on top of one another, her tongue resting behind her lower teeth, was one her favorite things to do. She didn’t need to struggle trying to get her point across, or explain herself to anyone, and lastly, she didn’t have to respond to anyone speaking to her. </span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Script MT Bold";"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">All she had to do was breathe. Inhale air through her nose, not wanting to disturb her tongue, teeth, or lips.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Script MT Bold";"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">She would fill up her chest with air, and when she exhaled her eyes closed; her upper body, torso, neck, and head gestured as if she would collapse into nothingness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Script MT Bold";"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Again she continued breathing in oxygen through her nostrils and filling up her lungs. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As she sucked in her belly, and expelling all the air out of her body, trying so desperately to shrink into another form.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></span></div>Marisa Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09818816716586417433noreply@blogger.com0East Northport, NY 11731, USA40.8647497 -73.31191590000003140.8242112 -73.341671400000024 40.905288199999994 -73.282160400000038tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5334500095373060103.post-60317286827508798992012-02-14T18:57:00.000-05:002012-02-14T18:57:25.995-05:00The Dragon And The Dragonfly<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 16pt;">The Dragon & the Dragonfly</span></u></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 16pt;">By Marisa Bernhard</span></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 16pt;">The opposite of me is you.</span></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 16pt;">You are a gentle giant.</span></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 16pt;">I am a creature, fragile at first glance.</span></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 16pt;">Look again and you will see my vitality.</span></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 16pt;">We balance each other’s spirit!</span></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 16pt;">I fly through time…</span></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 16pt;">You trample over the land.</span></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 16pt;">My song quick, I flutter, I take to the air,</span></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 16pt;">I soar, not much to say.</span></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 16pt;">Your fiery voice scorches all.</span></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 16pt;">It soothes my soul.</span></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 16pt;">The opposite of you is I.</span></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 16pt;">I glistened by… you caught me and proclaimed an angel!</span></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 16pt;">My wings wrapped around your heart.</span></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 16pt;">Your eyes calmed my spirit.</span></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 16pt;">Friends we became,</span></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 16pt;">As one, we explored the land …</span></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 16pt;">Your thoughts are my thoughts.</span></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 16pt;">My fears are your fears.</span></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 16pt;">Our needs are ours’.</span></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 16pt;">My purpose is to take care of you.</span></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 16pt;">My friend be at peace.</span></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 16pt;">I hover around you, handling you with care!</span></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 16pt;">I watch over you and color your dreams…</span></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 16pt;">My wings flutter at your sight.</span></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 16pt;">I soar all around proclaiming my love, or announcing my discontent - your gentle silence quiets my mind.</span></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 16pt;">You are the dragon who found a friend and I am the dragonfly that flew into your heart!</span></b></div>Marisa Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09818816716586417433noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5334500095373060103.post-27559185778741574562012-01-28T20:04:00.002-05:002012-01-28T20:04:44.274-05:00Sigh!<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 16pt;">Sigh!</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 16pt;">By Marisa Bernhard</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 16pt;">Hallelujah</span></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 16pt;">, hallelujah, hallelujah!</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 16pt;">Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah!</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -4.5pt 0pt 0in;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 16pt;">I prayed to you … I prayed to her some time ago!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I asked for your blessing.</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 4.5pt 0pt 0in;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 16pt;">I asked her for a miracle. My prayers forgo!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I cried for years … the tears filled my soul.</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in -4.5pt 0pt 0in;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 16pt;">I am empty inside; I grieve for the love my heartaches!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How could you say no?</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 16pt;">I am angry and enraged!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My worth trodden. Can it get any worse?</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 4.5pt 0pt 0in;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 16pt;">I think I could be losing everything! Please end this curse!</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 2in 0pt 0in;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 16pt;">I cannot ask again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It befalls insane.</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 16pt;">You, She, He & Devine, have heard my pleas.</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 16pt;">My words harsh, at times my tongue incensed.</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 16pt;">Do I ask for your pardon?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I do not know…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am hurt and troubled.</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 16pt;">My heart broken, my spirit absent, all my beliefs lost.</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 16pt;">My petition silent … it fills the vacant space in my heart.</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 16pt;">It is there for you to find.</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 16pt;">I say nothing, I sigh my prayer without a sound.</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 16pt;">Amen…So Be It!</span></b></div>Marisa Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09818816716586417433noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5334500095373060103.post-65340727157871267972012-01-28T19:06:00.000-05:002012-01-28T19:06:19.463-05:00Going Forward<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">Minstrel’s Song is a poem I wrote many years ago; it came about after a dream I had.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My first intent for this blog was to acquaint myself or gain knowledge with poetry by displaying poetry or quotes that mean something to me. Learn from poets and display their work. For some time I have been receiving a poem of the day to my email; I read it yet I don't have the drive to dissect it and figure out what was the poets purpose. Another plan was to expose the world of poetry and hopefully in the process gain some literacy knowledge to share. I thought by doing this I would feed my soul- a soul who is desperately asking for help. Recently I received some messages from a variety of sources - magazines, TV, and daily reflections. And the truth is that I need to share my own poems as well as write and create. If I don't create I destroy. Sounds quite dramatic but I hear her pleads, whispers that fill my mind with worries, regrets, anger and mainly fear. Because of this I decided that Minstrel’s Song will be the home of my poetry I will share with you what I create.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hope you enjoy!</div>Marisa Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09818816716586417433noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5334500095373060103.post-44351821382257734832011-03-05T00:33:00.002-05:002011-03-06T08:25:00.411-05:00The Very Nervous Family by Sabrina Orah Mark<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Some how I enjoy this poem , I mean I really like it..... please comment how you feel about this poem.</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">The Very Nervous Family</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">by Sabrina Orah Mark</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Mr. Horowitz clutches a bag of dried apricots to his chest. Although the sun is shining, there will probably be a storm. Electricity will be lost. Possibly forever. When this happens the very nervous family will be the last to starve. Because of the apricots. "Unless," says Mrs. Horowitz, "the authorities confiscate the apricots." Mr. Horowitz clutches the bag of dried apricots tighter. He should've bought two bags. One for the authorities and one for his very nervous family. Mrs. Horowitz would dead bolt the front door to keep the authorities out, but it is already bolted. Already dead. She doesn't like that phrase. Dead bolt. It reminds her of getting shot before you even have a chance to run. "Everyone should have at least a chance to run," says Mrs. Horowitz. "Don't you agree, Mr. Horowitz?" Mrs. Horowitz always refers to her husband as Mr. Horowitz should they ever one day become strangers to each other. Mr. Horowitz agrees. When the authorities come they should give the Horowitzs a chance to run before they shoot them for the apricots. Eli Horowitz, their very nervous son, rushes in with his knitting. "Do not rush," says Mr. Horowitz, "you will fall and you will die." Eli wanted ice skates for his birthday. "We are not a family who ice skates!" shouts Mrs. Horowitz. She is not angry. She is a mother who simply does not wish to outlive her only son. Mrs. Horowitz gathers her very nervous son up in her arms, and gently explains that families who ice skate become the ice they slip on. The cracks they fall through. The frost that bites them. "We have survived this long to become our own demise?" asks Mrs. Horowitz. "No," whispers Eli, "we have not." Mr. Horowitz removes one dried apricot from the bag and nervously begins to pet it when Mrs. Horowitz suddenly gasps. She thinks she may have forgotten to buy milk. Without milk they will choke on the apricots. Eli rushes to the freezer with his knitting. There is milk. The whole freezer is stuffed with milk. Eli removes a frozen half pint and glides it across the kitchen table. It is like the milk is skating. He wishes he were milk. Brave milk. He throws the half pint on the floor and stomps on it. Now the milk is crushed. Now the milk is dead. Now the Horowitzs are that much closer to choking. Mr. and Mrs. Horowitz are dumbfounded. Their very nervous son might be a maniac. He is eight. God is punishing them for being survivors. God has given them a maniac for a son. All they ask is that they not starve, and now their only son is killing milk. Who will marry their maniac? No one. Who will mother their grandchildren? There will be no grandchildren. All they ask is that there is something left of them when they are shot for the apricots, but now their only son is a maniac who will give them no grandchildren. Mr. Horowitz considers leaving Eli behind when he and Mrs. Horowitz run for their lives.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">POET Sabrina Orah Mark (1975 - )</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">BIOGRAPHY</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Sabrina Orah Mark grew up in Brooklyn, New York. She earned a BA from Barnard College, an MFA from the Iowa Writers’ Workshop, and a PhD from the University of Georgia. She is the author of the book-length poetry collections The Babies (2004), winner of the Saturnalia Book Prize chosen by Jane Miller, and Tsim Tsum (2009), as well as the chapbook Walter B.’s Extraordinary Cousin Arrives for a Visit & Other Tales from Woodland Editions. </span><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The poems in The Babies are haunted by invented characters and fabulous details; mysterious fates, wars, and historical events are hinted at, and characters navigate relationships and terrors in a series of surreally twisted prose poems. Commenting on her unique style, Mark, in an interview for Apostrophe Cast, explained that her maternal family speaks Yiddish and that her syntax has been influenced by their speech patterns.</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mark’s awards include a National Endowment for the Arts Fellowship and a fellowship from the Fine Arts Work Center in Provincetown, Massachusetts. Her poems have been included in Best American Poetry 2007 and the anthology Legitimate Dangers: American Poets of the New Century (2006).</span></span></span></div>Marisa Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09818816716586417433noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5334500095373060103.post-63251947989324880442011-02-22T20:06:00.000-05:002013-06-30T20:53:09.601-04:00Minstrel's SongI wasn't going to do it....but for my first post I am posting my poem titled Minstrel's Song ....please be kind.<br />
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I wrote it trying to connect the spaces. The spaces between my poems...there was a time when words poured on the page effortlessly..why? Was it being young and not afraid of honesty? Was it an actual Muse that I allowed to listen to....maybe a combinition of both.<br />
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My intention of this blog is to shed some light in the world of poetry, verse, prose, and song. Poets are all around us. Words and poems are everywhere too; this blog will be a mixture of all of this. I will write about poets their poems. I will look for inspiration in words and songs. I want to write again and hopefully I will allow my soul to sing her song!!!!! <br />
Ladies and Gentlemen: <u><em><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>Minstel's Song</strong></span></em></u><br />
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<u><span style="font-family: 'Mead Bold'; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Minstrels Song</span></span></u></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Mead Bold';"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">My poet, etched words in my heart, sedated my soul.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One day the verses were lost and she was gone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My silent heart cries for my empty soul.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Mead Bold';"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">A long time ago, in a dream a gift was revealed to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He came to me and announced my talent. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I did not listen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Years have past and everything is hidden. I try to go forward but the past beckons me to confront it.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Mead Bold';"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Muse was there and heard the hatred.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Poet knew of my confusion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With words my soul was caressed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With rhyme my heart had forgiven.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My gift healed and expressions fulfilled.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Mead Bold';"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Today I write and it is not the same. Phrases are not given to me so easily, for when I turned my back on poet. My essence was taken from me.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Mead Bold';"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I want poet</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Mead Bold';"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>back in my empty heart. I know it’s where she belongs. I know I can’t go forward<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>with out my muse. It’s my purpose to sing the minstrels song.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Rage Italic';"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">By Marisa Bernhard </span></span></div>
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Marisa Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09818816716586417433noreply@blogger.com0