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©2016-2018 by Pat Durmon, Poet. Proudly created with Wix.com

July 30, 2018

I look back at my Monticello High School years and remember that time as fun, difficult, a little warped. I needed cue cards to maneuver around the corners.

Like other adolescent girls, I suppose, I felt powerful one hour and helpless the next. It was a time of light, a...

July 23, 2018

I read these words this past week in someone else’s writing. My heart immediately jumped. Confirmation. Me, too. God called me to write, too.

Relief. I did not just stumble into it.

In the early years, I recall enjoying penmanship, doodling, the smell of ink, the feel of...

July 16, 2018

Hot and a dry July. Hay farmers have concern about the parched land. Gardens are drying up, flowers are browning, hummingbirds are struggling to find natural sweetness. Some of us bow heads and ask for rain.

I want to go somewhere like a galaxy far, far away where it is...

July 9, 2018

I am numb today, so I am up early and looking for my yard shoes. I’m not outside, because I want to beat the heat. Today it’s all about looking for a way to grieve my loss.

My poet friend died yesterday.

Right now, I’m aware that the people I love best do not mess around...

July 2, 2018

Body, you have served me well. Somehow I made moves, had thoughts, walked through crowds and years, sadness and laughter, fears and anger and love.

I went here and there with you. Or did you go with me?

What force was leading us? We could never have done it on our own. N...

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