tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73089967874459696692024-03-08T07:24:22.878-05:00Nancy Watts BlogNancy Wattshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03266800128555875710noreply@blogger.comBlogger96125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7308996787445969669.post-25413273724919547592011-10-29T10:23:00.003-04:002011-10-29T10:24:58.362-04:00Self DiscoverySelf Discovery<br /><br />I sat in a meeting once; a school improvement meeting, as my children were in elementary school at the time. The principal asked the members what we dreamed of becoming when we were children growing up. Answers ran the gambit from doctor, lawyer, accountant, to ballerina, athlete, and rock star. When it was my turn to answer, I took no hesitation and replied...a mom! At first people were aghast, taken aback. How could a child not dream past the captivity of parent hood? This is not a career, a calling. Then there was embarrassment, as all of these people were parents themselves.<br /><br />Yes, I replied. I have always wanted to be a mom! I loved my mother, my childhood growing up, the idea of loving and being loved in return; unconditional love, I believed, that existed only between a parent and child. I devoted %110 of my time, patience, and self to the nurturing of my two children. Night after sleepless night of feedings, fevers, and night terrors. The reading of books, rocking to sleep, and eventually sending off to school; where the influence of the outside world could undo the morals we, as mothers, so meticulously instill.<br /><br />Fatherhood is a different beast. Men define themselves by what they do; I'm a doctor, a lawyer, a government stiff. When their career is defined, and financial status secured, then, they look to accessorizing with wife and children. All the while, however, that part of who they are, the career, never waivers. They go to work every day secure in the knowledge that the doctors appointments will be scheduled, school lunches packed, homework completed, and wife will be happy to greet him at the door, as long as the paycheck is in hand.<br /><br />Then, the day comes when the children don't need round the clock care. It is enough that they know your physical presence is located in the kitchen or living room where they can easily access you if need be; god forbid you be in the bathroom, bedroom, or laying on a beach somewhere, their world falls apart. Now you are asked the question, “What are you going to do with the rest of your life?” People now want to know how you are going to make a living, pay for college, support the house hold. All the while you thought you had a career, and your home was it.<br /><br />So I started on a journey; one of self discovery. Who was I? What interests and passions did I possess past those of the immediate needs of my family? They should never have asked, because I found I did have them; and the universe fell apart. I revealed abilities within myself I did not know existed.Nancy Wattshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03266800128555875710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7308996787445969669.post-41276469447129888212011-06-08T07:24:00.002-04:002011-06-08T07:27:46.384-04:00SMILE FOR MESmile for me<br /><br />Show my reflection<br />through scintillating eyes<br />Radiate your warmth <br />from dimpled cheeks<br /><br />Share one thousand thoughts<br />coaxing concupiscent dreams<br />with a mere visage<br /><br />Melt away my vulnerability<br />using only the soft fullness<br />of your wanting lips...Nancy Wattshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03266800128555875710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7308996787445969669.post-82060836360119036412011-01-30T16:40:00.000-05:002011-01-30T16:42:38.753-05:00HALLOWEENHALLOWEEN<br /><br />Sky lines filled with rich aromas of hearty green tea<br />no longer wet my palate; instead golden pound cake<br />dipped into robust flavored coffees give one last burst <br />before winter's slumber<br /><br /><br />succulent fruits turn to pumpkin pie and the <br />elephant's eyes search the mazes for children <br />dressed as goblins and ghosts.Nancy Wattshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03266800128555875710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7308996787445969669.post-15659344736138882182010-11-01T20:34:00.002-04:002010-11-01T20:39:09.234-04:00Life's BreathYou two <br />are life sustaining<br />My world <br />umbilically tied <br />to one <br />rhythmic beat<br /><br />And I grasp for air <br />waiting<br />for time to allow me <br />to once again<br />breathe easy.<br /><br />My lungs<br />fail me<br />Pain sears <br />my chest wall<br />My heart aches<br /><br />And I grasp for air<br />waiting<br />for time to allow me<br />to once again<br />breathe easy<br /><br /><br />Life's BreathNancy Wattshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03266800128555875710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7308996787445969669.post-83569646638029878312010-08-15T15:36:00.001-04:002010-08-15T15:37:46.091-04:00Du'a Khalil AswadRecoil into your resistance<br />into your self<br />into fetal dreams<br />that once nourished you...<br /><br />For man, in his dominance<br />is dehumanizing;<br />shrouding your dignity<br />under the feigning of salvation...<br /><br />Let go the remnant<br />of this mortal life.<br />Induce reverie's delivery<br />to a celestial sphere filled with love...<br /><br />Resile your fear and subjugation<br />allowing your supernal soul to flourish<br />with all the purpose you were born...<br /><br />The Stoning...<br /><br /><br /> <br /><br />When winter winds<br />fellate through naked limbs<br />clinging to their trunks<br />howling and moaning<br /><br />When the sun submeres<br />into a cold dark sea<br />not allowing the sky to blush<br /><br />When thick fog<br />breaths heavy on the ground<br />indifferent to the beads of rain<br />slipping from the lashes of<br />the meadow's wild flowers<br /><br />Then Mother Nature did not prepare<br />her daughters well...<br /><br />For the forces known as man.<br /><br /><br />As Nature Would Have It...<br /><br /> <br /><br />Why don't women invest their assets<br />At whose cost do children end their futures<br />What is the price tag on human worth<br /><br />The reason all beings continue or stop...<br /><br />Give me the going rate for a smile<br />Is there a fee for a word of encouragement<br />How much is the outlay for a headstone<br /><br />One that reads "Much Beloved"...<br /><br />Real Power isn't in an external portfolio<br />It is in an internal stockpile of consumer confidence<br />Owned and operated to share the wealth<br /><br />People live to be valued...<br /><br /><br />Personal Fortune...<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />This set of poems is dedicated to Du'a Khalil Aswad.<br />All children should be allowed to pursue their dreams.Nancy Wattshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03266800128555875710noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7308996787445969669.post-64209780356806520672010-08-15T15:34:00.002-04:002010-08-15T15:35:26.132-04:00Tilghman's IslandTilghman's Island<br /><br /><br /> The air felt like summer's friend; maybe a sibling, older and wiser. It had an autumn calm that threaded her tires as she crossed the Chesapeake Bay Bridge. Sails, each filled with the season's last breath puffing toward the horizon, caught the corner of her eye. And her thoughts turned whimsical.<br /><br /> Memories, like candid snap shots of a playful summer's afternoon, filled her head: Dark hair, dimpled cheeks, and eyes that spoke to her when he smiled. Golden tan, early August heat, and a cool wind that skirted through her sundress as she emerged from her car. These were the flashes that gave texture to her dreams.<br /><br /> She met him at a road side stand while picking fresh produce: A pint of strawberries so ripe one could not tell where the berry ended and the edge of her lips began. Then there were the peaches; succulent and soft, with chin dripping juices that seep from the corners of your mouth, and he, with his roguish good looks. He helped her to her car. Placing the basket of fruits in her trunk, their fingers grazed one another, and emotions stirred. <br /> <br /> Today it was the smell of Old Bay permeating the air that drove her toward Tilgman's Island. Trucks clawing the curb-sides posted signs tolling Steamed Crabs and her heart fluttered at the thought of seeing him again. But the fruit carts now hosted squash and zucchini. Fields once green with watermelon, grew pumpkins for suburban front porches.<br /><br /> Down shifting, the engine slowed as her Audi TT convertible crunched pebbles, rumbling into that same snapshot in time. Engaging in conversation over the fall flowers and Indian corn displays, she casually inquired of the young man who had helped her only a few months back. “College”, was the reply. She nodded with an ironic acceptance; “mine too”, she acknowledged, smiling, and continued on her way to Tilghman's Island.Nancy Wattshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03266800128555875710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7308996787445969669.post-27521802041624240492010-08-15T15:29:00.001-04:002010-08-15T15:29:35.991-04:00Voices In The SandThe sand, soaked in mid-day sun, scorched her feet. “I wish I had worn my flip flops.” entered her mind while she played hopscotch to relieve the burn as she made her way to the water's edge. Tranquil surf greeted her. Gentle waves lapped against the shore accepting imprints of passerby's. <br /><br />Careful to check the tides, she placed her chair just out of reach of encroaching waves and into the direction of the sun. The breeze shook yesterday's sand from her blue and white stripped towel as she lay on her stomach, having wriggled an impression in the sand.<br /><br />With arms raised above a make shift pillow, warm granules rolled across her fingertips creating a sound like coffee scooped from its canister. Soon, feet crunching between sun bathers melded with voices in the distance; voices reverberated through the sand. Children laughed, women talked, and people interacted with one another. “People Listening” rather than “People Watching” coined itself in her mind as she lay there with her eyes closed and senses open to all that was going on around her. <br /><br />She focused in on a conversation similar to tuning in to a radio program. Bits and pieces of superfluous talk: A mother handed her child a juice box and carrot sticks, two boys discussed the depth of the hole they were about to dig, and a little girl who had to pee. <br /> <br />“Just go in the ocean.” Her mother directed. “Sit down in the waves, no one will know.”<br /><br />Then came the laughter, genuine laughter born of familiarity, comfort and reminiscent emotions. One could differentiate this joy because it was deep and meaningful as apposed to shallow and insincere. And it intrigued her. Having begun the season on her own, she missed the camaraderie of her girlfriends and listened in.<br /><br />Voices In The Sand...Nancy Wattshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03266800128555875710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7308996787445969669.post-74651401095692715772010-02-04T19:53:00.003-05:002010-02-22T20:49:40.770-05:00SailorMy dream catcher<br />Sits atop a lighthouse<br />Waiting for that ship in the night<br /><br />A sailor, with the look of<br />A beautiful horizon in his eyes<br />Has lips that whisper words<br />As gentle as the trade winds<br /><br />His touch is as soft as <br />The island flowers<br />And his presence brings<br />Adventures of past voyages<br />Stirring passions that <br />Create the sweetest nectar <br />Ever to be tasted<br /><br />When the dunes finally <br />Receive the force of the ocean’s tide<br />Hurricanes will blow<br />And the stillness of this island beach<br />Will be awakened once again<br /><br /><br />SAILORNancy Wattshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03266800128555875710noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7308996787445969669.post-56450364837526579782010-02-04T19:49:00.000-05:002010-02-04T19:50:27.435-05:00MêléeYour eyes fluttered<br />As if in deep REM’s<br />But this is no dream<br />Just stark contradictions in reality<br />For what feels like a dream<br />Is yours for the asking<br />And the real pleasure <br />Is accompanied by <br />The pain of conflict<br /><br />MêléeNancy Wattshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03266800128555875710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7308996787445969669.post-34364547312175644192010-02-04T19:47:00.000-05:002010-02-04T19:48:50.554-05:00The KissButterflies<br />Conjured thoughts of<br />The sound of his voice<br />Prickly?<br />Tickly?<br />Smooth, moist <br />Like space with no air<br />Succumbed intimacy<br /><br />THE KISSNancy Wattshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03266800128555875710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7308996787445969669.post-76436310563636074862009-11-16T18:49:00.001-05:002009-11-16T18:53:36.600-05:00PRIVATIONThere was a moment, a connection<br />when the breeze whispered <br />your inner privation.<br /><br />I stood silent and listened...<br /><br />Its rustling stirred the smell of Jasmine<br />embedded in your dreams,<br />blowing through my fingers, wanting to take hold.<br /><br /><br />PRIVATIONNancy Wattshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03266800128555875710noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7308996787445969669.post-88049352101332420422009-11-07T07:19:00.004-05:002009-11-07T07:23:37.205-05:00To My DaughterIt is for me to remember the joy <br />in the news of having a girl. It is <br />for me to remember the sleepless<br />nights and constant worry.<br /><br />I can still feel your newborn fingers <br />grasp my one, and the smell of fresh<br />milk on your breath or the feel of rocking <br />you in my arms to sleep….<br /> <br />It is for you to keep in your heart the <br />endless, lazy summer days of jump rope, <br />chocolate chip cookies with milk, and the <br />opened door of a house filled with love.<br /><br />But remember if you can, the silver hair <br />of an angel, wrapped in the crocheted <br />blanket of autumn colors; for although I <br />am in the winter of my life, I look forward<br />to reincarnating in the spring time of heaven.<br /><br />Where I can once again know the joys<br />of birth; yours and mine. I can once again<br />know the love of a parent, a husband and<br />again a child; and the river of life will have<br />made its way to the horizon.<br /><br />TO MY DAUGHTERNancy Wattshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03266800128555875710noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7308996787445969669.post-88009269184490075262009-10-29T21:43:00.002-04:002009-11-03T23:07:22.461-05:00Safe HavenYou are...<br /><br /> a beach house in the pouring rain;<br /> my life coming down in buckets...<br /><br /> an assuasive presence on a blustery night<br /> whose golden autumn eyes makes this heart smile!<br /><br />You are...<br /><br /> brilliant fall colors on a New Hampshire afternoon;<br /> an inglenook blaze rolling through the hills, poaching twilight.<br /><br /> a safe haven snuggled under Eider down<br /> whose nurturing affection fosters impassioned emotions.<br /><br />Safe HavenNancy Wattshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03266800128555875710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7308996787445969669.post-18099053749751843472009-10-21T22:36:00.001-04:002009-10-21T22:36:44.611-04:00NO WORDSFrustration is the manipulator <br />Of my fingertips.<br />Lead is pushed across the page<br />In an effort to express my <br />Inner most thoughts.<br /><br />Lines squiggle<br />As my voice shakes<br />Starting and stopping<br />In discursive ramblings of feelings<br /><br />Meant to turn one’s heart<br />Arouse one’s senses<br />And liberate one’s soul.<br /><br />Analogies of flowing rivers<br />Seductive sunsets and <br />Sensuously soft roses<br />That bring to mind the<br />Smooth supple anatomy <br />Of this woman’s strongest aphrodisiac<br /><br />Seem trite in comparison<br />To the fervent emotions<br />Stuck in my throat.<br /><br />NO WORDSNancy Wattshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03266800128555875710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7308996787445969669.post-45212534601976338742009-10-09T19:59:00.004-04:002009-10-12T19:51:14.147-04:00Du’a Khalil AswadRecoil into your resistance<br />into your self<br />into fetal dreams<br />that once nourished you...<br /><br />For man, in his dominance<br />is dehumanizing;<br />shrouding your dignity<br />under the feigning of salvation...<br /><br />Let go the remnant<br />of this mortal life.<br />Induce reverie's delivery<br />to a celestial sphere filled with love...<br /><br />Resile your fear and subjugation<br />allowing your supernal soul to flourish<br />with all the purpose you were born...<br /><br />The Stoning...<br /><br /><br /> <br /><br />When winter winds<br />fellate through naked limbs<br />clinging to their trunks<br />howling and moaning<br /><br />When the sun submeres<br />into a cold dark sea<br />not allowing the sky to blush<br /><br />When thick fog<br />breaths heavy on the ground<br />indifferent to the beads of rain<br />slipping from the lashes of<br />the meadow's wild flowers<br /><br />Then Mother Nature did not prepare<br />her daughters well...<br /><br />For the forces known as man.<br /><br /><br />As Nature Would Have It...<br /><br /> <br /><br />Why don't women invest their assets<br />At whose cost do children end their futures<br />What is the price tag on human worth<br /><br />The reason all beings continue or stop...<br /><br />Give me the going rate for a smile<br />Is there a fee for a word of encouragement<br />How much is the outlay for a headstone<br /><br />One that reads "Much Beloved"...<br /><br />Real Power isn't in an external portfolio<br />It is in an internal stockpile of consumer confidence<br />Owned and operated to share the wealth<br /><br />People live to be valued...<br /><br /><br />Personal Fortune...<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />This set of poems is dedicated to Du'a Khalil Aswad.<br />All children should be allowed to pursue their dreams.Nancy Wattshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03266800128555875710noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7308996787445969669.post-42297442149819838652009-10-07T22:20:00.000-04:002009-10-07T22:21:32.842-04:00RESTLESSMy emotions disable me<br />Discursive dreams<br />Slip in and out of my daily routine<br />Relentless desire<br />Takes the place of peaceful slumber<br />Food, no longer satisfies the cravings<br />Hunger that starts<br />With the sound of your voice<br />Is followed by a thirst<br />Quenched only from your lips<br />A burning sensation<br />Cooled twice<br />By the milk of satisfaction<br />This appetite reaches so deep<br />It can only be filled<br />With a limberness of soul<br />And a passion<br />That makes one’s fists clench <br />And body convulse within<br />A connection intense enough to bring tears<br />Filled with a remembrance of my past<br />Love of the present<br />And excitement for the future<br /><br />RESTLESSNancy Wattshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03266800128555875710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7308996787445969669.post-55081801709218520602009-10-07T22:12:00.002-04:002009-10-07T22:16:02.035-04:00INSECURITYOh, how I wish for one day<br />all of my imperfections <br />to go away.<br />I would leave behind<br />for you to find<br />the vulnerable beauty<br />of his heart and mind.<br />No longer will I need to conceal<br />all of the emotions that I feel.<br />My wild spirit your subconscious would<br />reveal, embrace and be understood.<br />Conditions no longer would there be<br />for the bond desired<br />between you and me.<br />Unguarded acceptance<br />would I then know<br />from the trust and faith<br />that began to grow.<br /><br />INSECURITYNancy Wattshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03266800128555875710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7308996787445969669.post-22008320784954736882009-10-05T16:35:00.001-04:002009-10-05T16:37:00.354-04:00AUTUMNMy flowering pear is peach in color…<br />Summer fruit with an autumn look<br /><br />No longer blending to the rest <br />of natures’ landscape<br /><br />Its richness and vibrancy<br />flows gracefully with <br />the direction of the wind<br /><br />Gaining a relaxed rhythm<br />once lacking in the spring<br /><br />It has depth, shadows, and remnants of life<br />nestled into the crook of embracing branches<br /><br />A smell and feel, which generates<br />childhood memories, emanates in the<br />brisk breezes scattered about<br />from rustling leaves<br /><br />Like cinnamon being shaken on apple crisp...<br /><br /><br />AUTUMNNancy Wattshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03266800128555875710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7308996787445969669.post-11369416316995787962009-10-05T16:28:00.002-04:002009-10-05T16:31:21.763-04:00NOT FORGOTTEN BIRTHDAYFlames filled with hopes and dreams flicker<br />Materials cannot clothe the heart<br /><br />A single wish entrusted to tradition<br />releases a prayer of happiness with a breath<br />dousing the candles, as I remember your birthday...<br /><br />Not Forgotten BirthdayNancy Wattshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03266800128555875710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7308996787445969669.post-40980860831314576152009-10-03T21:22:00.000-04:002009-10-03T21:23:25.427-04:00AUTUMN WINDScents of almond, apple and pumpkin <br />emanate throughout the house.<br /><br />Thanksgiving day is upon us and too<br />a casement of opportunity to<br />reflect on our lives, loves, and friends.<br /><br />On paper, fall is an ending;<br />out with the old year, in with the new.<br /><br />For me, it is a beginning...<br /><br />New friends, new direction, new light is shed <br />on work to be done during this rite of drum.<br /><br />There will be no stairwell to hide beneath,<br />my end result will mirror individual effort.<br /><br />AUTUMN WINDNancy Wattshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03266800128555875710noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7308996787445969669.post-17444964342787080372009-10-02T21:31:00.001-04:002009-10-02T21:31:42.663-04:00REMEMBER MEWhat will you remember<br />When you think of me<br />Will it be the eyes of excitement<br />That you see<br /><br />The eyes of unconditional acceptance from a friend<br />Standing by your side<br />Or the eyes of passions running wild<br />From a love that could not hide<br /><br />The eyes amazed at the colors of a sunset<br />Refracting through a cloud<br />Or how I looked admiring your accomplishments<br />That left me feeling proud<br /><br />Will you hear the breeze rustling the dunes<br />Or sound of the crashing surf<br />Will you remember the words from a love that swooned<br />Comparing you to heaven on earth<br /><br />Some things I hope that come to mind <br />When pondering my name<br />A heart by virtue of sincerity was kind<br />And wild spirit you could not tame<br /><br />Remember me when times are rough<br />I’ll be there to pull you through<br />Remember me when times are grand<br />You’ll be in my heart then too.<br /><br />REMEMBER MENancy Wattshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03266800128555875710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7308996787445969669.post-75238571930955163562009-10-02T20:57:00.001-04:002009-10-02T20:57:58.091-04:00DANCE WITH MEDance with me<br />Lay my head on your shoulder<br />Hold me close<br />I will close my eyes <br />Lose myself in the rhythm<br /><br />Feel your increased desire<br />Move to the beat<br />Caress and explore every<br />Concealed thought and emotion<br />Reach deep into my soul.<br /><br />Whisper to me<br />That which will melt my heart<br />Give meaning to this song<br /><br />Dance with me<br />Be a “listener of the fugue”<br />Not just a “hearer of the melody.”<br /><br />DANCE WITH MENancy Wattshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03266800128555875710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7308996787445969669.post-35247391306050148162009-10-02T20:53:00.001-04:002009-10-02T20:53:34.630-04:00FROM NOW ONYou came into my life<br />As quiet as a whisper<br />You unlocked my heart<br />Without a sound<br /><br />You made love to my soul<br />Like a hurricane blowing<br />You gave me no warning<br />And here’s what I’ve found<br /><br />From now on…<br />There isn’t anything I’ll do<br />I won’t want you with me<br /><br />From now on…<br />There isn’t anything I’ll see<br />I won’t want to see through your eyes<br /><br />From now on…<br />There won’t be a time<br />I’m not thinking of you<br />You’ve got a hold on me<br />Don’t ever let go….<br /><br />FROM NOW ONNancy Wattshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03266800128555875710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7308996787445969669.post-36730676366985706982009-09-30T19:18:00.001-04:002009-09-30T19:20:33.595-04:00JOURNEYI’m going on a journey<br />My friend must stay behind<br />So I’ll take with me <br />A part of he<br />Reassuring my heart and mind<br /><br />That love has no boundaries<br />It’s something you can not possess<br />It’s timeless and everlasting<br />The part of life that’s best<br /><br />I’ll take with me his smile<br />To share along the way<br />And his love for adventure<br />To enjoy each passing day<br /><br />I’ll take with me his patience<br />So as not to miss a thing<br />And his heart felt compassion<br />For every human being<br /><br />I’ll remember how it feels<br />To hold his hand in mine<br />Then lend one to another<br />Knowing that in time<br /><br />One day my hand will reach out<br />And be joined in the end<br />Not with that of a strangers<br />But my long desired friend<br /><br />JOURNEYNancy Wattshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03266800128555875710noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7308996787445969669.post-513815335633607642009-09-30T19:00:00.000-04:002009-09-30T19:01:28.960-04:00WORDS HaikuWords do intrigue us<br />and then maybe engage us<br />sometimes OUTRAGEOUS!Nancy Wattshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03266800128555875710noreply@blogger.com0