A house is not a home If not safe and warm, A place of protection where one’s cherished, shares opinions and feelings without fear of ridicule. Is a sanctuary from outside forces.
A home holds secrets, Freedom from politics, it’s where ideas are born, we get to be our true self, are guided or redirected. A home should be a haven Of love, safety, security. Place where the heart finds peace and rest.
A Registered nurse, wife, mother, poetic writer and United Way volunteer.Born in Belize, migrated to New York at age eighteen. After studying nursing, worked as an emergency room until starting a family.Having both natural and chosen children, it was the emotional struggles of the chosen ones that gave birth to many of her poems.Ruthieg believes that when all is forgotten or ignored, expressive words linger or get heard. That it is important for the hurt and wounded to have a voice, for that purpose, many of my poems were written.
Sounds of the highway; so peaceful to me Warm cool breeze ; smell of the country air Mountain views; snow covered mountain peak Turkey’s talking; eating their feed loving the country Life; country air in the breeze. This is where
A frame lifts the skirt of a portrait and throws her genitalia on your face. A twin blast has taken place. Why did you stand for eclecticism? The fables will miss you and blue horse will not return home. The
I want to go somewhere where the rain is like thunder and the sky is like an ocean; where everything around me is so loud I cannot hear my brains thoughts; screams running through my skull and wrapping around my