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Elisabeth Horan

Elisabeth Horan


by Elisabeth Horan

I hoped today would be my last
Day singing – sadness
God, I planned for silence; a
Blessed day of quiet

But it’s strange and loud
This day – unnecessary
Clicks, twitches
I grow nothing;
Use up everything

Since it’s not the last day
Of my life – oddly…  says I  –
Cringe worthy, grimy
meter fashioned from a
Barbed A sharp. Lonesome –

I have to witness the minimum
Of living – what one does to breathe
At times – simply shocking. How
Nothing becomes a song —

Elisabeth Horan is a poet/momma/flower/animal from Vermont caring for all creatures…and writing her heart out — She has books at Fly on the Wall, Twist in Time, Cephalo Press, and others…. Elisabeth is proud to serve as Editor in Chief at Animal Heart Press. She has two precious sons…Peter and Tommy – Breathe the air. Feel the love. Let’s be kind and cherish one another. Friends pickles horses rivers cookies sleep sex; mexican food singing out loud and sunsets  @ehoranpoet  &

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