Old Photos

Please Don’t Miss reading Sarah’s – OLD PHOTOS!! Keep tissue handy!

Sarah Doughty

“It was the way you looked at me
that left my knees weak.
I never wanted those moments to end.”

I look back at old photos of us and wonder where it all went. Back when I was smaller, freer. Open. When I could love you with abandon. Back when I would shamelessly watch your hands move, or stare at your mouth and wonder what your lips tasted like in that moment. I didn’t carry those burdens I hold like boulders on my shoulders.

I look back at old photos of us and wonder where it all went. Back when you were looking at me like I was the most gorgeous creature you’d ever seen, beautiful. Perfect. When you would take every opportunity to hold my hand or touch my skin with your fingertips, just to make sure I was real. Not a figment of your imagination. You looked at…

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Poem: Clean Sheets by Mark Tulin

Come share the joy of clean sheets and pillowcases in Mark’s – CLEAN SHEETS

Crow On The Wire

He takes an afternoon nap

on clean sheets and pillowcases,

a celestial escape

The fresh smell

of laundered bedding

is where he lay,

an ordinary joy,

a priceless comfort

A middle-aged

somnolent angel

with pains and aches

giving his tired wings

a break

So peaceful

is his noonday nap

just sinking into


on a mattress

feathered in clouds

He wonders nothing,

his worries don’t exist,

just comfort he seeks

just calm and rest

he takes.


photo by Alice Tulin

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Don’t Miss this poem about the one we need to love the most – ELEGY


Energetic – Word of the Day


The creek line along the outer wall of King’s Canyon.

Elegy For Mother

I stopped on the rise
where the trail opens to a valley,
and sat for a while admiring your view.
I took off my shoes and savoured your sand,
ran my hands down your powdery skin,
stretched my arms out in praise,
breathing you in,
taking you in memory,
sacred memory.
Purified in your creeks,
fuelled by your self-offering,
I reflect this on your paper,
in my electronica chic,
mineral products so smooth.
All that you are is
all that I am,
and all that I have.
Yet, though I valliantly try,
I have left you
like a football I once kicked,
burst and rent.
Kyoto a faded vow,
my lust has consumed you
your energy spent
feeding mine.
And more than admiration,
or the faithlessness of plattitudes,

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