18 Years

love birds

Eighteen years ago today
We walked down the isle
and were scared to death, 
each of us, for our own reasons.
Our legs may not be as limber
as these two love birds,
but we don’t care.
Love doesn’t keep track of
those kinds of things.
We each take our turn
at editing the verbiage on 
the back of the marriage license,
because we invent new ‘responsibilities’ 
for each other.
And we laugh a lot
because that’s just how we roll at our house.
We’re more in love now
than we ever imagined.
We still walk hand in hand,
share lunch together almost every day,
respect and trust one another,
and look forward to what tomorrow brings,
because we know we’ll be in this
–Deborah L. Tisch
Of all the poetry I’ve written this month, 
this one was by far the easiest.

April Poetry ~ from The Cat

because i’m your cat
i shall sit here
with my pretty little white paws
my tail delicately curved
and my full belly expanding
and stare at you 
you give in
and if that does not work
i will chase follow you
throughout the house
and meow at you
in my cutest voice
until you see
that i want you
to pay attention only to me
while you pet me
scratch under my chin
and make all those
loving silly sounds
and, of course,
feed me
in return
i will purr my loudest
making you think
that you are the cause of it all
you humans
take a while to catch on
but i am patient
and will continue 
this same routine
so i can get 
what i want
which is
your total
— Yeller The Cat, April 16, 2014
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Even the cat who owns me likes poetry. Who knew?

Conversations ~ April Poetry

There in the road
a spiral of wind and
leaves from the fall,
blown by strong wind
spiraling upward,
the delicate touch of these brown
leaves on the pavement
like fingers tapping on glass…
The thoughts of trees,
the hands that fanned the wind
and caught the rain…
old, brittle, and dried,
now they lay on the 
damp, spring earth.
Window blowing strong and free
lifts them upward and they
spiral into my path,
churning, spinning, flying free,
picked up and moved to a new place.
We sat at the table,
friends among friends,
and Spirit entered the room
like a strong breeze
lifting our words 
the spiral.
Words shared.
Tears and laughter.
All making the breeze,
the wind of Spirit,
lifting our old, dry,
brittle thoughts,
letting them spiral 
into a new place.
 Deborah L. Tisch, April 2014

The Story Circle ~ April Poetry

Where we sat in our circle

~ The Story Circle ~
The women sat together
Facing one another in the
The circle like the cup in
her hands
Full of warm liquid,
radiating heat to her flesh
The circle where they held
each one in reverence
And respect and honor and
This circle, this O, this
This place where healing
As they told their stories
While the others listened
and were reborn
They sat and beheld the
pain, the joys,
The wandering in the
wilderness, the coming home again
Facing one another
They sat together in the
As she lifted the cup of
warm liquid to her lips
She knew then that she drank
the same cup as they
All did, and the warmth of
the love that poured
From each soul radiated
warmth to all those present
In that circle, that never
ending circle
Where all are equal and no
one is set apart
We are that circle
Where love is, where healing
begins, where story matters
And we must return to the
Again and again and again
Facing one another

In reverence, respect, honor
and love
Deborah L. Tisch, April 14, 2014

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