Category Archives: Uncategorized

The Conundrum: Splitting The Baby) for Kimberly Mays Twigg

Kimberly Townsend Palmer

kimberly mays infant photoSwitched At Birth, www.silverimagephotoagency.com

I.

Sometimes, I ask myself why I didn’t give her back sooner.  Would it have been easier then, before I knew her personality, the sweet meaning of her every sound, every movement?  Already I loved her smell, the weight of her small head on my chest, already I’d soothed and fed and washed her forty days running.  That other mother gave life, I gave only touch, warmth, comfort.  I couldn’t help it; I fell in love, it happens like that, quickly, without thought.  I didn’t know how it felt to be someone’s mother.  When I couldn’t become pregnant, I cried for days.  My insides felt soft and hollow, like an empty purse.  This little girl loves me, I know she does.  She reflects a rainbow back to my eyes, in her smallest toe resides a perfect universe.  I lie next to her at night, breathing the rich, salty fragrance of her hair, feeling her body growing, expanding to meet mine, and over our private nest flows time, but for as long…

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the banishment window

Within A Forest Dark

Window by Akuppa John Wigham, flickr Window by John Akuppa Wigham, flickr

Say your prayers at the banishment window. Whisper your secrets to me at the banishment window. I will wait for your mornings, at dawn, at evenings, dusk, at the banishment window. I will hear your pleadings to join us, your proof of your reform, but the extent of your involvement will take place at the banishment window. On my side of the banishment window, there is a place for me to sit, but on your side, only rough wall, where you stand, where you will always stand when you see me until we bury you in the potter’s field.

You might wear our clothes, but the extent of our talk will be at the banishment window. You might secure our degrees but don’t think you can fancy talk your way past the banishment window. Have children if you like but they will stay with…

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becoming a new creation in an age of turmoil

Within A Forest Dark

woman by Zs, flickr woman by Zs, flickr

Using one of my pen names, Quenby Larsen, I created a memoir style blog “How to be Alone.” I created the site over a year ago and this most recent post this past spring. In this and other posts, I explore my struggle with illness, but especially, mental illness, a struggle which seems to inevitably inform my fiction. May God bless you in your fight, whatever fight it might be, for all of us are engaged in something. I hope you will visit “How to be Alone.” Maybe it could be a comfort to you or someone you know. Maybe it could serve to show that really, we are none of us alone. Sincerely, Margaret

I’ll have to admit that recently, I haven’t been as comfortable spending time alone being quiet. I believe this largely has to do with midlife circumstances that are not all that unusual though…

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gehenna

Source: gehenna

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liquid asylum

Sometimes writing comes to readers at exactly the right time. This is one of those times.

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Ode To A Mother.

Mothers. I love them, too.

Kofi Amed's Blog

Queen in our eyes! 
Goddess in our hearts 
Alleviated fears ;Shaped behaviors 
Built careers ; Educated a nation 
Sang hymnals :Through the moments slowly.

She learned to live and love 
Unperturbed by failure unruffled by haste 
To rise in the midnight glory 
‭Unbounded by time ,Undimmed by hope.

She sang dirges in ceremonies 
boxed by pain raze with tears
Called on a God in heaven ! 
Pushed by problems unleashed by dreams

To wipe our tears and fails 
Charred by life’s harsh realities
Unbroken by woes strengthened in invocations 
Into our stubborn adolescent years 
The hectic times, the sick bed comforts 

I reminisce her brief scolding 
Refusing to go to school for no reason 
And all her exquisite wares I broke 
Can’t phantom the pain I caused her

But she never gave up on…

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I Confess, I’m a Spy

Fantastic! Hilarious! True. Makes me wish I’d written it!

See, there's this thing called biology...

shoephoneHideous little fact, but if you torture somebody long enough, they’ll
eventually tell you whatever they think you want to hear. Eventually
they’ll start confessing to things they haven’t even done. Spy-factoid.

In the face of internet spy accusations, I used to launch a rather pathetic
wail, “but I’m a real person!” Forget all that, from now on I’m just going
to run with it, embrace the idea. So, I confess, I’m a spy, like Agent 99 on
Get Smart. Sometimes they even let me use the shoe phone.

In truth, on the internet being accused of being a spy, an agent provocateur,
a subversive, a troll, a government agent, is a pretty routine thing. People can’t
see you and until they know you, they tend to perceive you as a threat. (Once they
know you, they REALLY perceive you as a threat, but I digress.) To make the whole

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