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Archive for the ‘World Peace’ Category

Under the rising sun

The enemy came

Wearing my face…

And changed my face forever.

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When I was in high school, Russia and Communism were taboo subjects; they were feared into silence. One day I read where poets were the most feared in Russia and my passion for poetry empowered me and I became less and less fearful as I kept on writing. I felt the more poetry I read and wrote, the weaker the enemy became. Nothing has changed so we keep on writing.

Poets for Peace

Each time a poet
Puts pen to paper,
There is a sliver of hope
For Peace.

from my Dangerous Woman: Poetry for the Ageless

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Taking a day off:

Once I decide I’m having a bad hair day, there is no turning back. Once I decide I need a haircut, or my roots need color or a perm is needed, there is no turning back. Once this happens, I know I am ugly and it can only be resolved immediately within an hour at the hairdresser’s.

Once I feel and know I’m ugly, dark clouds follow me. I don’t see the homeless so they don’t get a penny out of me. I become blind to polite cashiers and my “thank you” turns mechanical. I by –pass the new faces on the morning glory vine in the morning. Once I’m ugly, the world no longer looks possible and I stop being human.

How egotistical,  you say?  How pathetic that a bad hair day can affect my relationship with humanity and nature and in turn, with you?

Knowing this, I have a solution for world peace, a non-nuclear world, and a nation based on a living Constitution and a non-partisan country.  So I offered my hairdresser Tom, two airline tickets. “Tom,” I said,” Go to the White House and to North Korea and do something about two hair-dos. We need to do this to preserve our planet.”

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When I was in high school, Russia and Communism were taboo subjects; they were feared into silence.  One day I read where poets were the most feared in Russia and my passion for poetry empowered me and I became less and less fearful as I kept on writing. I felt the more poetry I read and wrote, I weaker the enemy became.

Poets for Peace

Each time a poet

Puts pen to paper,

There is a sliver of hope

For Peace.

from my forth coming poetry book: Dangerous Woman….

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http://sacb.ee/8EMK

Do check out my story in the Sacramento Bee that came out today in the Forum Section.

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There will be no haiku poems on Trump for the next four years in respect for Basho, Issa, and all the Japanese haiku poets who found beauty, elegance, inspiration, meaning and simple joy in nature, people and our universe and who sought and found the most select language ever available to share this with us. But…I will still write non-haiku, loosely written verses:

Trump

The gigantic kite soars

Toward the hot orange sun

Deaf to voices from Icarus’ flight,

He hurtles down and buries

The country in black ash.

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Hope

The song is dead.

The swordsman takes

The Victor’s stance.

But somewhere, still

A newborn child

Hears the promised song.

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