Tag: reflection

Alice’s Hole

Poetry by Lola Gentry-Dey. All rights reserved. Inhabited between wild things, wonderful things, Who Am I? No longer a main priority, no longer stapled to a better forever determining worth and future. I Am the problems I’m not letting go of. I Am the energy and struggle to do better in this Magical universe, reincarnate

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Elsie Gee Cartoons

Art by Lola Gentry-Dey. All rights reserved. I took a “Drawing Cartoons” class when I was a kid because I used to draw them in my school notebooks when I was supposed to be paying attention to my teachers. I was a big daydreamer. Luckily, ADD wasn’t a big social issue then, so I was

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Walking The Dark Road

My blog is 4 months old and it already feels like a neglected child crying for attention. September has been a busy month here at the Dey residence with the transitioning of my children going back to school and getting them to pay attention to their new schedules. My oldest has been a champ at

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Tales And Secrets (Before The Tales Begin Revisited)

The old woman hovers near the woodstove and drags a calloused hand across her crinkled forehead as if wiping away smoke and sweat. She pauses, looking; her eyes flash between her fingers and strike my soul. I feel her in my mind, looking, searching, all the while reading the history there. Where have I gone

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Summer Nocturne (Halcyon Days Revisited)

A gentle breeze caresses trees where children play in savanna gray. Meadows laugh whispered breaths on a beautiful warm summer eve. An inquisitive rain slips from dappled clouds; sunlight bright on its mist that kisses my upturned face: soft caresses like satin dresses making love to my bare skin. I lie in the arms of

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Young Love

—1995— Sun-kissed golden down of woven sunlight on feet so small Sundress yellow shines flaxen halo on cushion grass Body electric sitting in the shade glorious Delighted little girl pounces and kisses lips deeply silkily Earthly heaven scent is a warm sunbeam gleeful A bed beneath sheets of pure love as long as rivers run

Computers And Masturbation

In conjunction with May being Masturbation Month, I share with you this little known fact about myself. I discovered the computer world when I turned 9 in November of 1989. It was during my birthday that I overheard an uncle talk about his computer and the World Wide Web. Earlier that year, some science guy

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6 Random Favorite Photos, 2 of 2

By now you know I love mountains. They are beautiful to look at and dangerous to be on. Sometimes the best beauty is viewed at from afar.   And sometimes beauty must be seen up close.   Beauty is found indoors.   Sometimes we trek many miles looking for beauty.   Beauty is everywhere, day

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6 Random Favorite Photos, 1 of 2

I love mountains, woods, water … and boating.   One of Alaska’s biggest moneymaking exploits. I’m not a fan, but my family loves it.   Big skies, wilderness and water are perfect getaways.   Photographing nature is looking and seeing.   Big places to live among bigger nature.   Finally, a look at the modern

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Beaches

I could live all my life on beaches. Below are 4 of many favorite beach photographs from my collection. Pebbly beaches and woods are the perfect campsites. Rocky beaches are great places to hear nature singing. Sandy beaches are for lovers and joggers… and people who wish to be alone with their thoughts. Woody lake

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My Mom’s Stroke

My mother called from Hawaii one day in October and asked to speak to the doctor in our family. She wasn’t feeling right, she said, and she listed her ailments to my husband over the phone—headache at night while watching TV, blurred vision, dizziness upon standing suddenly, a sore and stiff right shoulder, and tingling

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Coming In Color (Black and White Revisited)

My mind is empty among white blossoms. My lips speak not of this bubble of a heart. An attractive woman notices me anyway and takes me as I am. My habits flow to the sea like American motorists on summer vacation. The neighbors complain about our caravan outside their windows in the early morning rain.

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The Sea On My Honeymoon

The sea on my honeymoon is nearly silent around me. A faint skitter of fiddler crabs on the sand connects to a murmur of the night-wind in the palm trees behind me. My lover tide is making low complaints like the aching earth, caressing and bitter against an expectant land. I keep half-awake the anguished

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America (Macroscopic Death Revisited)

So many American faces are fading like new literature, soft and pale, sinking into the quicksand of poverty. Their government turned their dollars into pennies; One hundred George Washingtons won’t buy a fistfight today, but a hundred Ben Franklins can get you murdered… Franklin kicks Washington’s ass every time. But whose city park does big

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Flares Over The Ocean

  I love how this digital photograph turned out. I never know what my sunset pictures will look like. Most of the time I leave my camera on automatic, then point and shoot. Sometimes I use the flash. And sometimes I use the extra settings, like night and sunny day modes, among others. The mystery

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Rightful Heirs

Man’s abstraction is his mad reality— His crazy reality is our despair His ruin-prone proud national heritage befalls us for a wretched dream Ancient fires fuel his greed made savage by marketeers A proprietor evicts a family struggling to make ends meet No compassion He says he needs his money to pay his bills— but

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4 Weeks Alone (Alone Revisited)

Week 1 Alone Silence in my bedroom, but not in my bed Naughty aching, electric steam I lie ready, fingers pressing hot Shivers come to me inside the warm darkness My lips form a perfect O O God O Yes O Yes yes yes yes yes The heightened feeling gets stronger The seconds crash like

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Cleavage

Let’s talk more about Boobs. Ah, Boobs, those two soft fleshy glandular organs on a woman’s chest that form an eye-catching groove of separation called Cleavage! Yes, Cleavage! Every girl should have Cleavage! Whether you’re looking to make your small breasts appear to have more Cleavage, or you want to make your large breasts provide

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Working With People

She’s a bit introverted. She’s happiest when she’s by herself, holed-up from the rest of her coworkers and customers at the department store she works at. But sometimes she volunteers to come out of her office cubby and assist her coworkers on the sales floor. Like yesterday. Things began okay. She helped stock shelves with

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Blazing California

Remember the drought, dry grasses and winds? Our wildfire moon was red —everything else was black char, ash-fog, so thick we couldn’t breathe There seemed no escape but death Fire blocked our roads Stay-put-and-find-shelter fireman filled our minds with dread Our very souls grew heavy with smoke If we were to die by fire, we

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Annotations (Journaling Revisited)

She started a journal … a journal of perceptions. She likes the word annotations, but her writings are really just thoughts and observations. Some are superficial because her 9-to-5 job does not allow her time to dig deep. Others—from the “mind well”—are deep … or so she hopes. Poems and stories she has written are

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Watching Foxes

I am watching, alive the foxes watching me after the grass is cut, barking seldom but always watching, watching me, faces sharp, red coal eyes, gold afire on the stubble on the hillock, watching, waiting, bright fur hostile, prowling now for the waning hour shadows creeping, slipping inside wire pens that coop our hens. I

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Macroscopic Death

Faces fading like new literature, soft and pale, sink into the quicksand of poverty. Their government turned their dollars into pennies. One hundred George Washingtons won’t buy a fistfight today. But a hundred Ben Franklins can get you murdered … Franklin kicks Washington’s ass every time. But whose city park does big Ben stand in?

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Rain

Rain on the window paints calligraphy on my wall— I recite verses to music playing where pear flower stars burst forth in the multicolored bowl on my kitchen table where I once compared nature with artifice and made love to the girl with ornamental hair That’s what happens, she says to me now, when tradition

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Finding Love

Again we are moved, obsessed, reaching out, entwining. Enter me, I plead. Sate me, I beg. Below my window moonlight covers us as we climb higher; the peak is ever closer, closing in; all the right switches are being connected. We find our sweet release in each other’s arms. We come together, trying not to

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When I A Child

When I, a child, when I could, I voyaged out into your cool company— the coldness of boots pulled on at the doorstep before walking that large solitude of no cricket, no owl; walking with silent snow feet among birdless woods tossed among the taste of echoed blood at such a time, invisible and dull

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Remembering

Do you remember how we crept along fences young together I, at twelve, stumbled through the other side of eternity never to think we’d ever become middle-aged Do you recall homesick high-school weeks making us feel gentle like days of a last breathless uncertain chord played— a warm rich memory of an old woman’s concert

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