One Seed
. © 2013 Jeanne E Webster. All rights reserved . You are my brother, sister, mother No matter what the creed My aunt, uncle, or my father We started from one seed . You’ll never walk alone, my friend...
View ArticleWill to Live
© 2011 Jeanne E Webster. All rights reserved It was a miracle she wasn’t dead, a thought that sludged through her semi-consciousness as she dragged her minuscule body across the jagged, gravely road...
View ArticleThe Glowing
copyright Jeanne E Webster. All rights reserved . Thank you for the memories, The joys and wonders of life, The blessing of divine glories… What peace abundantly rife! ~ You birthed me as a baby girl,...
View ArticleDark Thinking
Dark Thinking ©2014 Jeanne E Webster. All rights reserved “You’ll always be my little girl.” What did that mean? Memories still tumble down That rocky hill of childhood; Strange things . . ....
View ArticleGod Forsaken
© Jeanne E Webster. All rights reserved . Have you ever had “wondering” days When you sat and reflected upon things? Unique perceptions linger and laze, And before you know it, take wings. . I was...
View ArticleMother, May I?
© Jeanne E Webster. All rights reserved and observed They arrived shortly after breakfast, during the respite between chores and my second cup of coffee. What a pair! Bright eyes bejeweled each...
View ArticleThis is My Blood
© 2009 Jeanne E Webster. All Rights Reserved and Observed. Have you ever had “wondering” days When you sit and reflect upon things? Certain thoughts will linger and laze, And before you know it,...
View ArticleMothering Memories
© Jeanne E Webster. All Rights Reserved. . Do you ever have memories that poke a hole in your sunny-day balloon, sucking joyful moments forth with heart retching thuds of regrets? Yea, sure you...
View ArticleHope of Heaven
Hope of Heaven © Jeanne E Webster. All rights reserved Silent night . . . holy night . . . The kingly head that was crowned with thorns Once lay in a manger, sleeping, Tenderly caressed by His...
View ArticleSomebody’s Mother
Somebody’s mother By–Mary Dow Brine The woman was old and ragged and gray And bent with the chill of the Winter’s day. The street was wet with a recent snow And the women’s feet were aged and...
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