<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8" standalone="yes"?><rdf:RDF xmlns="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/" xmlns:dc="http://purl.org/dc/elements/1.1/" xmlns:sy="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/syndication/" xmlns:rdf="http://www.w3.org/1999/02/22-rdf-syntax-ns#"><channel rdf:about="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/BlogRss.aspx/Nemi"><title>Poetry by Rene - Blogit</title><link>https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/Nemi/</link><description> A collection of poems on various themes and subjects written by Rene Bushelle.</description><sy:updatePeriod>hourly</sy:updatePeriod><sy:updateFrequency>1</sy:updateFrequency><sy:updateBase>2000-01-01T12:00+00:00</sy:updateBase><items><rdf:Seq><rdf:li resource="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/Nemi/720402" /><rdf:li resource="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/Nemi/720396" /><rdf:li resource="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/Nemi/718323" /><rdf:li resource="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/Nemi/717976" /><rdf:li resource="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/Nemi/717973" /><rdf:li resource="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/Nemi/717393" /><rdf:li resource="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/Nemi/717389" /><rdf:li resource="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/Nemi/716479" /></rdf:Seq></items></channel><item rdf:about="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/Nemi/720402"><title>21st Century Couple</title><link>https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/Nemi/720402</link><description>A slick waiter glides between the booths His hair's too shiny, he smiles too wide, and he asks too much. An older woman with brass bifocals and mannish haircut chats with a black man at the bar. He sports Rastifarian curls and contrasts with her as mahogony to blonde. They met on the internet and...</description></item><item rdf:about="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/Nemi/720396"><title>The Paragon</title><link>https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/Nemi/720396</link><description>The place is dingy, lined with a powdery dust. A multicolored carpet, the only new furnishing, clashes, with its bold red, gold, and green Indian design, with the fifty's style ovals on the padded booths, and the blue Moorish diamonds plastered the chairs. The hostess limps to the table and slaps...</description></item><item rdf:about="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/Nemi/718323"><title>Bonding</title><link>https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/Nemi/718323</link><description>They sit in silence, the mother, the daughter, each engrossed in the page before her. The mother, leafing through mags, the daughter, a comic book. The afternoon sun beats down on the pair as they sip pumpkin lattes near the wide window seat. Short-cropped bleached hair, the mother. A wild frizzy...</description></item><item rdf:about="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/Nemi/717976"><title>The Moment Just Before</title><link>https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/Nemi/717976</link><description>This is heaven, Sibelius on the radio, the cat is poised on the kitchen rug, silently stalking the mouse hidden below the dish washer. I, at the sink, contemplating what I will cook for my lover's dinner. My furry French farm cat is so poised, every hair on her body still. Her pupils magnify, one...</description></item><item rdf:about="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/Nemi/717973"><title>High School Queen</title><link>https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/Nemi/717973</link><description>A goddess lay sleeping in the school hallway. Prone and motionless, she was splayed on her back. Breasts pointed skyward through her snug white top. Timy ballerina slippers turned out to each side. A matronly heavy set nurse with frizzed hair hung over the slender body looking for signs. She'd...</description></item><item rdf:about="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/Nemi/717393"><title>Student to Teacher</title><link>https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/Nemi/717393</link><description>"I get down sometimes." I asked her why. "People get me down," she said. "Don't let them. I think you're smart." "Yeah, I know,"-- she sat thinking and then-- "Come on, I'll walk with you." Striding like a woman, her large breasts like ripe mangos under her orange school jersey, her wide hips...</description></item><item rdf:about="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/Nemi/717389"><title>The Sangha Bell</title><link>https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/Nemi/717389</link><description>The little Buddha sits silently smiling with a radiant halo engraved about his head. Flowers float above him and a lotus prevents his fall off the brass bell upon which he lives. On closer look, his smile seems pained and his round halo is dented; his belly's full, but the lotus he sits upon is...</description></item><item rdf:about="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/Nemi/716479"><title>Ceremony of Death</title><link>https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/Nemi/716479</link><description>Packing myself into a mass of human caviar, I squeezed between hooded mourners, weary penguin mothers with birdy children, walrus workmen, just off the job, exhausted and grimy, gangsters, slimy as eels, and dark roe students, all clothed in dull black, their swarthy countenances contorted with...</description></item></rdf:RDF>