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HER ESSENCE

After she was gone
I found scraps of paper
everywhere.
Each piece torn
from whatever was at hand
when thoughts possessed her mind,
or touched her heart.
Little reminders
jotted down when senses
stirred her to capture
a piece of beauty
or a fragment of emotion.
Words, phrases, ideas
upon which she would
later elaborate.
Drawing from those small
scraps, pages of stirring
discourse that could make
one lose himself
in laughter, or touch
one’s heart to tears.
Those bits of written
emotion reflect how she
found beauty in everything,
and she comes alive
in the words
she jotted down
Musing about their value,
I could not destroy them.

In my closet upon a shelf,
there is a candy box
that holds her essence.
It is full of life and love
recorded on scraps of paper,
reminding me of her.
She was a poem.

2/5/93 Phyllis DeWitt-VanVleck

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MY PERIPHERY

I have a pen in every room
And sometimes two or three
Because the poet in my soul
At times needs setting free

Whenever I am struck by muse
I jot it down in haste
Before another thought pops in
And one might go to waste

But it is pens I’m not without
No paper is in sight
So I use almost anything
When it is time to write

There’s notes I’ve made on magazines
On grocery bags and such
And toilet tissue’s not exempt
But truthfully, not too much

There’s notes on every box in sight
And on a pillow case
I even wrote above my knee . . .
I write where I find space

You’ll find these notes within my poems
Except the one on knee
I lost it in the shower stall
Which I did not foresee

For years that poet in my soul
Hid shyly deep within
But now with notes on everything
I wear that poet skin

And that is why I jot thoughts down . . .
To set that poet free
And use such muse that fits a poem
In my periphery

8/28/00 Phyllis DeWitt-VanVleck

4’th … Indiana NPD – 2000

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HER ESSENCE

After she was gone
I found scraps of paper
everywhere.
Each piece torn
from whatever was at hand
when thoughts possessed her mind,
or touched her heart.
Little reminders
jotted down when senses
stirred her to capture
a piece of beauty
or a fragment of emotion.
Words, phrases, ideas
upon which she would
later elaborate.
Drawing from those small
scraps, pages of stirring
discourse that could make
one lose himself
in laughter, or touch
one’s heart to tears.
Those bits of written
emotion reflect how she
found beauty in everything,
and she comes alive
in the words
she jotted down
Musing about their value,
I could not destroy them.

In my closet upon a shelf,
there is a candy box
that holds her essence.
It is full of life and love
recorded on scraps of paper,
reminding me of her.
She was a poem.

2/5/93 Phyllis DeWitt-VanVleck

Read Full Post »