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Grief has an interesting way of sometimes bringing the best out of you. Case in point, Tammy Spears lost her mother in 2007, and to cope, poetry entered her life.  In 2017 Tammy decided to compile a book to showcase her poetry to help others overcome their grief.  Her book of poetry is called "Flutter of an Eye," and we'll be discussing it on this episode of the "Someone You Should Know Podcast." Listen here: https://someoneyoushouldknowpodcast.buzzsprout.com/2047151/12061138

As war unfolds Death and pain Spill onto my screen Onto innocent faces Soldiers and militants Kill any person Indiscriminately Leaving empty faces Families in anguish Beseech the watchers To intervene Heartbroken faces World leaders make speeches Promises made While suffering continues  Face of terror Critics smear and geer Bolstered by politics Loudly commenting Ugly old faces Parents trying to explain How men destroy And people die  Sad faces Horrible scenes Replayed at nauseum Desensitizing us  Blank faces

Today you left this life You went into the great beyond Where joy is lasting Fear no more perhaps a blessing. Your life was hard Times were tough Somehow you never had enough. So you made rules By which you lived your life. You told me snippets here and there A glimpse of how it’d been To grow up poor, on a farm Where your dreams were born. Fear of hunger, fear of Dad Longing for things you never had You never shared But I saw and knew Growing up hard impacted you. You were hard on me But i loved you, felt your spark Of that free spirit child Who was forced to settle down To work. In later years good friendship grew And yet you never told me That you loved me But I know you do I love you too! Susan Smoter - September 2023

I feel you near, coolness spills  Like an icy sea  washing through living plains And rolling over me  Icy digits, figments and  Vast unliving things Chills run up and down my spine Where fingers were unseen Ghostly kisses on my ear Whispering it’s alright You’ve only come to say hello And then to stay the night Sweet eery singing  Phantom band Breezes through my head Is it real or coming from the dead Goosebumps on my arms and legs Shivering, balled up tight Afraid to on my bedroom lamp Dying in my bed of fright  Moonlight breaks through the clouds  My room is now alight  There’s no one here, I’m alone And everything’s alright Susan Smoter - October 8, 2023

Connections are so strange. Walking on a cold morning, I smell wood smoke. Someone nearby has a fire in their fireplace. I look at chimneys seeking the smoke, And, though I see no smoke, I see all the other fireplaces I have sat before. My boyhood home in Florida. Another where I sat one night, Smoking cigarettes, Drinking beer, and... Writing poetry. Several in homes now far behind me, With their memories... Some good, some bad, But mine. Memories made of chimneys And anonymous Wood smoke. • Donovan Baldwin

What remnants of some rustic, Rural soul remains in me, That I, Poet, Lover of gentility, Life and beauty, And love itself, Am stirred by steel, Honed and handled... By wood or horn, Swept with urge to take up My knife, Black powder rifle, And be off... Into the woods to be Outdoorsman of old, Mountain man in hide and fur, At home in low forest, High meadow, Beneath the hot sun, Frigid in ice and snow, Glorying in the deadly power Of blade and gun, And himself? • Donovan Baldwin

your beautiful mind filled with lovely images you and i should share ----- the moonlight revealing many lovely mysteries secrets to treasure ----- she reads all he writes almost always wondering how he knows her thoughts • Donovan Baldwin

Some readers gasp in awe At words so bare and raw The presentation daring As if poet was not caring, To be considered rude For appearing nude, But, to put the truth out there, The poet must be bare. Drop pretense like scattered clothing, Despite society's loathing. For, if the truth be told, Words must be bare and bold, It is the poet's duty, This art of exposing beauty. • Donovan Baldwin

sometimes i like to think that she some night might read my poetry my words pounding in HER breast repeating parts she loves the best, her lips silent but for sighing as she reads them realizing, how much of her in words is seen how much in spaces in between how when my pen is laid to rest her whispers pounding in MY breast • Donovan Baldwin

I'm asleep, I'm awake; lost somewhere between the two states of mind where you have dominated my dreams, and all that I can see, feel, and remember is you One moment I'm asleep and the next, I am reliving hundreds of moments that I had with you Small memories come alive, like the long drives to nowhere and the many meals we shared at different restaurants that took forever for us to decide upon on I'm asleep, I'm awake; lost between daydreaming and night dreaming; not caring anymore to hide the fact that I miss you; wondering if after two years and three months, if you still remember the scent of my skin Asleep, awake; I am lost ... ~ ©️ Priya Patel, Jan 14, 24 🕉 Artist is S. M. Naqvi