The page is white and fresh Crisp blankness waiting for a touch Of genius I have only these two hands and heart To tell of life and love Of joy And despair Of sorrow And healing I toss words upon the blankness And hope they hit Somehere close to the mark by mamajoy Sign in to see full entry.
Of turnips, caterpillars and kings:
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Little poems; how to lick a rainbow, the sky wept, sun peeking,lanterns. . . by Mamajoy. Can I write a poem a day? Hmmmm.
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