Friday, March 1, 2013

old woman's arms

she sees the world from the reach of an old woman's arms.
the mind, sharp yet blunting, still capable of some charms.
she remembers the school times, just trying to survive,
thinking to herself, this is being alive?
crawling into her silence, dark quiet womb.
her small chance to escape, in what
was never her room.
then watching herself only in the eyes of
while by lost moments, drowned in
her misguided druthers.
she sees present moments, repeats
of the same.
whatever it foments, she crumbles
at the game.
her old fingers trying, while
struggling to see.
what was and what now is,
what's left of her "me"

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About Me

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i am older than dirt and proud of it!!!! i have managed to incorporate my eternal 60's nation spirit with the high tech 21st century world. i am an artist/writer, who dabbles in rhyme, and, sometimes, reason. my passions are my husband, who is truly the wind that ruffles my sails, animals rights, yoga, the beach, waking up in the morning. i find inspiration in too many things to list, and far too many more to remember. i have added sketching, watercolor painting, and photography to my ways of expressing joy and gratitude. from living with a chronic illness, i have learned the beauty of each day, and treat each as another sun salutation, and another chance. P.S. all painting, poems and photographs are my originals karen Lyons kalmenson