I Begin With a Moment
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Saturday, March 24, 2007. As long as there is memory, there is poetry. Year at least one person. Us, we scrambled through. On our backs to form. Hills that put cut glass.
Tuesday, March 27, 2007. Year at least one person. Us, we scrambled through. On our backs to form. Hills that put cut glass. The way of the world-. That we took for granted. I was not an only child, but. Lonely as a child of ice. This was the only world I knew. Poetry Immersion Classes with Joan Dobbie.
Tuesday, December 25, 2007. I was thin as a waif,. Just two and a half,. The word, watermelon, saw. I could think of in English,. For the children to come,. This poem appeared in the anthology, PATCHWORK OF DREAMS, 1966.
Thursday, April 5, 2007. She chased cars, butted babies,. A gift from some old farmer. She put his fragile nerves. Poetry Immersion Classes with Joan Dobbie. Some Thoughts and How to on Poetry Writing. My First Memory, Circa 1947. I Begin with a Moment.
Monday, March 26, 2007. My First Memory, circa 1947. I think I was not yet two. To which my parents escaped. But then it was spring. Me so tiny,dark and so naked. Sitting bare bottom in a washtub. Where my mother had left me. For just one minute alone. When the huge brindled cow. Drank up all my water.
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I Begin With a Moment. Saturday, March 24, 2007. I Begin With a Moment. One particular moment. It is Sunday, after the family Sunday dinner. Sweet with the smells, of Sunday. There is the fireplace, wood burning; there is the staircase, warming as it rises. I am sitting halfway up the staircase, facing out; my hands loosely encircle the smooth swelling bars of railing. I am bathed in the swelling comfort of rising air. And what is the matter with Joanie? Why does she always sit by herself? I do not unde.CONTENT
This web page joansibeginwithamoment.blogspot.com states the following, "Saturday, March 24, 2007." We saw that the webpage said " I Begin With a Moment." It also said " It is Sunday, after the family Sunday dinner. Sweet with the smells, of Sunday. There is the fireplace, wood burning; there is the staircase, warming as it rises. I am sitting halfway up the staircase, facing out; my hands loosely encircle the smooth swelling bars of railing. I am bathed in the swelling comfort of rising air. And what is the matter with Joanie? Why does she always sit by herself? I do not unde."SEEK SIMILAR DOMAINS
Tuesday, December 25, 2007. I was thin as a waif,. Just two and a half,. The word, watermelon, saw. I could think of in English,. For the children to come,. This poem appeared in the anthology, PATCHWORK OF DREAMS, 1966.
Thursday, April 5, 2007. She chased cars, butted babies,. A gift from some old farmer. She put his fragile nerves. Poetry Immersion Classes with Joan Dobbie. Some Thoughts and How to on Poetry Writing. My First Memory, Circa 1947. I Begin with a Moment.
Monday, March 26, 2007. My First Memory, circa 1947. I think I was not yet two. To which my parents escaped. But then it was spring. Me so tiny,dark and so naked. Sitting bare bottom in a washtub. Where my mother had left me. For just one minute alone. When the huge brindled cow. Drank up all my water.
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