My wild Texas rose..


My wild Texas rose

Kind mistress night brought her to me. The Austin, Texas bars brought people from all places together. When the moon took over the night sky. People from different places fell into one hope. Dance, laughter, drink and to enjoy the mystery of the night.

I went into a tavern/dance club and I saw three pretty ladies dancing together to the song of Bob Seger “Turn the page” on the dance floor . I drank my drink and I enjoyed the view. All of sudden. A beautiful strawberry blond hair girl asked me. Can you dance or are you waiting for the booze to kick in and to forget who you are? I held silence and I answered slowly. I’m just wasting time and trying to find reasons and purpose to be alive.

The Texas July heat had kicked in. Summer dresses and beautiful woman were everywhere…

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When I Die

Sarah Doughty

“When I die, don’t hurt for me.
Know that I’m safe and sound.
That I’m always with you.”

When I die, don’t mourn for me. Know that I’m forever asleep, dreaming for the rest of eternity. When I die, don’t miss me. Because I’m always with you. In your hearts. In your memories. Know that I’m always right beside you. When I die, don’t hurt for me. Know that I’m safe and sound. That I’ll be there for all the big moments. Even the little ones too.

Just as long as you don’t forget me.

© Sarah Doughty

So, please, don’t ever forget me.

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Into Her World, We Were Born – #poetry

Night Owl Poetry - Dorinda Duclos

This is for you, Dee….

Beside the bed, her sneakers lay
There are no feet in them, today
Leggings and blouses, tucked away
Never again to be worn

Earrings and bracelets, laid aside
Into their boxes, to safely abide
Worn with elegance, flair, and pride
No longer do they adorn

Photos, in an album, bent
Pictures of the one who meant
So very much, is now absent
Leaving her family, forlorn

Little reminders, around us dance
To catch a glimpse, perhaps, perchance
Of her spirit, one last glance
She would not want us to mourn

Instead, to remember a giving heart
A lover of opera, and collectible art
The happier times, of which we were part
For into her world, we were born

Authors Note: The picture above, from left to right is, my Aunt Dee, my Nana, my Mom, and that’s me in the front, taken mid to late…

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The Poet’s wish. Never sweet and never easy.  A dancing beauty moved with the song. Her hips moving slowly with the tempting words. The dancing damsel, she knows she was the Hemingway’s prayer and wish to the waiting poet.
He watched her. Her black dress cut down to her knees allowing his eyes to see perfect legs wrapped in the lace and silk. She danced shoe less and alone. Swaying with the song and her eyes closed.
The Poet craved to join her in the dance but he understood. Women, are uncertain in their need and wants. Better to allow the free butterfly to come to you if she desire.
The song is done and she looked at the waiting poet. Her river blue eyes are dangerous and wonderful. She walked to him and she asked. Johnnie, are we drunk because of the whiskey or me?
Wise Poet told…

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Sending kisses

A Faded Romantic's Notebook

Summer sunshine

tea and meditation

music and imagination

scent of buddleia

jasmine and tobacco.

The liquid sound

of birds singing

exultant and free

in the garden.

And me

sending quiet kisses

on the warm breeze

across the miles

hoping they find you.



© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Not brand new – but I am sending kisses.

Art by Lenin Delsol

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