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Are there no mothers who can feel this? Or am I blacklisted?
(Please skip poem if you must, but my blog begins after poem)

On Her 19th Birthday

When she was very little, I remember how she'd reach for me.
She'd stretch out her baby arms, as far as they would reach, anxiously requesting me to fill them with my love. With affection she would pat my cheek, and her tiny hand would so easily slip into mine.

After she learned how to tie her shoelaces, she was all ponytail and skinned knees,
and still, would clasp her arms around my neck and grasp my hand to venture across the street.

How many giggles and squeals of delight has she now counted? How many tears of true sorrow has she embraced?

Still and forever, she returns to hug my neck, clutch my hand, and fill me with her love before she bounds out the door-

Oh! How I will one day miss these daily reminders!
My task will be complete -her outstretched baby arms, a mere whisp of memory...

The flash of her smile will always bring me joy, for always and evermore she is owner of my heart.

-If I take a moment to be still, I can feel her lttle hand in mine, when I close my eyes.

Are there no mothers who can feel this? Or am I blacklisted?

I have noticed that even people who used to respond to me, don't.
It may be my poetry of late is so bad. It may be a million things including ostrasizing me for whatever reason. Just because you're paranoid doesn't mean their not out to get you.

I am not very secure these days. I have images of some of you avoiding my poetry. Avoiding me.
It's truly weird how much the thought of that hurts. -Hell, I can't even make cyber-friends with my heart all out there on the line.

I believed myself an optimist, until I realized I had become a sad cynic...

I find myself in yet another place that chooses to keep me out. I'd hoped to find an internet coffee-shop. The kind with poetry reading in the corner, book discussions, wisdom shared, friendship garnered. I think I am the only one who knows I have a lot to bring. That thought makes me truly sad.

I'm gonna go have a good cry, see what kind of mood-altering medications I might have on hand and do something truly mundane, like balance my check-book. Eckhhh. That might be depressing.
Maybe I'll go clean the bathrooms.

Elizabeth Maksymiuk

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The following comments are for "blah blah blah blah, merry christmas , blah blah blah"
by emaks

Lucie, blah blah me
I came back today to delete this sad little exercise in self-pity, but after your response, Lucie, will keep it here as a reminder to myself that it's not always about me.
Sometimes I need a slap in the face to bring me 'round and a reminder to "snap out of it!"

Christmas has made me a little sad since my divorce 10 years ago, because of the split of family and what that meant to my kids for all their christmas' after...

thanks Lucie, i think i'm okay now ;)


( Posted by: emaks [Member] On: December 17, 2005 )

Pair of Noids?
Yeah, we all get that way Elizabeth -- and you're correct, they are out to get us. Honestly, i read a lot of postings here, and sometimes they keep me up later than i want to or should be. I often do not comment until the 3rd, 4th, or 5th read. I am not as perceptive as many and I get hung up on the meaning of individual words a lot, which detracts from the total meaning of the poem or story. That is one of my limitations.

So, I don't think that people who have not responded, those that used to in the past, is an indication of people trying to shut you out -- this is poetry, nobody can shut you out. We can chose to read or not read, to comment or not comment. But it is your voice. I have read many of your other poems and believe you have great insight -- i'll comment on them soon, when I'm finished reading them again...

There are too many forces in this life that try to drag us down, don't do it to yourself. One of my favorite sayings: "They cannot grind you down, for you are a diamond." (I think I am the originator of that one, but not sure)

;o) BW

( Posted by: BWOz [Member] On: April 20, 2006 )

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