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-> Hobbies, Crafts, and Collections
-> The Imamother Writing Club
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amother
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Wed, Feb 02 2011, 10:50 am
Wow amother that poem is awesome. I could totally pass it off as my own. I have had almost exactly the same scenario happen to me a couple of weeks ago. Everything I thought I knew turned out to be a lie. If this poem is real then good luck to you.
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the world's best mom
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Wed, Feb 02 2011, 10:58 am
Amother, your poem expresses your feelings very well. I hope things get better for you soon.
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amother
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Wed, Feb 02 2011, 11:29 am
I was kicked off ,
The side of a ledge,
It’s a steep descent,
Off the narrow edge,
As the forces pull,
And push,
And shove,
Coherent thought is gone,
And I plunge,
And plummet,
And just before total blankness,
There is one thought,
That bangs mercilessly on the periphery of my brain,
Just keep breathing,
Breath is life,
So hold on,
But that shove on the ledge,
Has knocked the wind way out of me,
And so my body keeps going,
Face first,
In a downward spiral,
Defeat,
Consumes my very being,
Works hard,
In tandem with gravity,
To bring me down.
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superjew
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Fri, Feb 11 2011, 1:48 pm
Reflection:
Its what I portray as me
Its what I long to see
THE END.
(I got stuck & so busy to continue now. maybe another time)
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cuties' mom
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Fri, Feb 11 2011, 2:09 pm
I look at the beautiful blue eyes that are staring at me.
Eyes that are so bright and clear, they meet my gaze and hold it.
"One day," I said to those sparkling eyes, "you're going to go to school."
The eyes reflect excitement as their owner interprets what I just said.
All of a sudden my son is standing at the door, a diaper bag in hand ready to leave.
"No," I tell him, "Not yet. First we have to find the right school."
Disappointment is reflected in his eyes as my toddler wanders over to the window.
"Bus!" he exclaims loudly.
I look out and comment, "yes, that's a school bus."
Once again, he is at the door, ready to leave.
"One minute," I say. "Its almost time for me to go to work."
I go to the bedroom to get my sheitel.
I come out to find the gleaming eyes looking at me as my son stands at the door,
holding his sippy cup and my coat.
I drop him off at the baby-sitter and say goodbye.
Tiny arms wrap around my legs as ds says "Lolu".
"I love you," I respond.
I look once more into the crystal clear eyes and think
how can anyone say he's autistic?
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