20 Lines A Day

A Community of Writers and Photographers


My womb was once fertile

alive with promise and purpose

inside I could feel each cell as it connected and took root to my nerves

inwardly feeding on my energy until only beauty emerged

And now, what is this?

This state?


Your fruit is bare

Your nectar stale and bitter

What happened?

Did you grow old and wither?

I still visit the garden at night and tend your forgotten roses

I hope one day to see again the petals bloom among the thorns

The Beauty of You

Originally posted on Spirit Led:

Celebrating Life

The world needs to know
the beauty of you,
the soft lines
of the tears you cry
when you think no one
is watching,
the hard lines engraved
by the myriad of tragedies,
large and small,
that form the rugged map
of your heart.

Bare it all,
show them who you are
under the pain mask,
in the spotlight
naked as the day
you were born,
show them your heart,
let them tread upon it
and then love them even more,
love you, in all your splendorous,
naked glory,
love you even more,
shatter the mask
and show the world
the love you hide within

©SpiritLed 2015

View original

I See You

Originally posted on Spirit Led:


I see you,
behind your veil of sadness
behind your hair
behind that wall
erected all those years ago
to protect the world from your feelings.
How’s that working for you now?
Does staying small and hiding
meet your needs?
Do you shrink at the slightest opportunity
to be a real person
with real feelings,
to be authentic in the face
of great sorrow
and great joy?
Do you let the world pass by
peeking safely through
the inevitable cracks
formed through years of chipping away
but never fully through
your fortress of invisibility?
Do your fears that mask the sadness
allow you to follow your dreams,
or do they keep you tied up,
wondering if things will ever change
if you always stay the same,
until one day someone says
without fear or hesitation,
with love in their eyes,
I See You.
I see the beauty
you think you…

View original 63 more words

Looking Back

Someday they’ll come and carry me away.

What then? Whose job to look among my things,

determine worth? Will all my books, those kings,

touch someone else’s heart or will they gray

in boxes? What about my amethyst,

the purple gemstone of my birth? Will they

see eye-to-eye with me on beauty? Lay

me down but please, o please, keep on the list

those things that I collected with such love,

Svarovski crystal, photographs, and notes

that meant much more than fancy cars or boats.

Please keep those items warm within your glove.

Au revoir, David Letterman

So now I have to get used to reruns of “The Mentalist” in place of David Letterman at 11:34 pm, now that Dave has wound up his 33-year late night career.

It’s not that I have anything against “The Mentalist.” In fact, I like it. But somehow I will miss Dave’s monologues, his jokes, The Top Ten Lists, his “segments,” his bantering with guests of every stripe, and yes, Paul Shaffer’s outlandish clothes. Perhaps the Late Show just became habit, and wasn’t really a choice. I’m not sure, but I do know that last night I was touched by his sincere thanks and goodbyes to his staff and crew, and his moving words to his wife Regina and son Harry who were in the audience.

I wonder what he did today.


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