This is a true story...My Sunday Morning Offering: Parenthood (or What We Make) If you are not completely selfless Parenthood will teach...

Freedom The tiny bird flies into the sunlight just like the Great Heron who owns the still blue waters and who sometimes follows me on...

When I Had You There was that time when I had you a few minutes or maybe a few days rocking when I rocked or when I simply walked away ...

There’s a hole in the lining of my mother’s purse - frayed felt and ripped ruche a secret in the silk The gold has faded and the strap...

My Sunday Morning Offering: (Photos by Jerri Lynn Sparks) The Privilege Of Poetry I can tell a bird by its song And a broken soul by its...

(Photo credit: Jerri Lynn Sparks) Sometimes life illuminates at just the right moment at just the right angle quickly but quietly to...

Your Sun Will Never Speak He lies in bed and breathes and has been doing so for twenty-three years unexpectedly a loss before his...

A little lusty poem to consider on this rainy day... (Photo Credit: Jerri Lynn Sparks) It’s 2 a.m. and I’ve just bitten into a nice and...

She didn’t waste a single thing saved the bacon grease from her heavy cast iron skillet and stored it in a jar beside the old stove to...

A poem about birds... Night came and there was poetry - from young hearts that gradually crept up One boy wore soft lavender hair in a...

A poem about my Cherokee grandmother What I remember most is the sizzle of fatback as it hit the cast iron skillet The scent of bacon...

A poem about the last kiss... I wake up before sun and strangers in winter and wander Before duties and dangers and things that I ponder...

A poem about silence We sat silently reading in the rain the soft drip-drip-drippity-drips being the only sound in our ears And I was...