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

December 23, 2019

Dear Friends,

I am listening to Christmas music. Why? To get myself more and more awake to the true meaning of Christmas.

Maybe I’m trying to counter what the stores (on-line and downtown) say—that things under a tree will make people happy.

I totally bought into what the...

December 24, 2018

How any poem is created is a mystery to me. How concrete (shape) poems like the three below happen is an even greater mystery. I had nothing in my mind. Then bam! a shape. Why one shape shows up and not another is God stuff. Why one word, the heart of the poem, dominat...

December 17, 2018

Rain had fallen for days. Puddles, all over the yard. The days had been dark and cold. I could feel it inside my body.

It made me reflect on the dark days more than 2,000 years ago. The world was not at its finest when baby Jesus came into the world. He had picked the t...

December 25, 2017

Jessica, my mail carrier, beat me to the mailbox yesterday, so I’m taking Christmas cards into downtown Norfork, population 511.

My delight to drive three miles on a curvy motorcycle road, to take in the view at the Matney Knob overlook, to admire the green pines.

I am g...

December 18, 2017

I look at the shadows growing long in the yard. They come from a tall maple and our old ribbed house. There they lie on a hard yard like sleeping giants. It happens every December as we near the shortest day of the year.

The days darken. I hear the train across the rive...

December 11, 2017

My mother left when I was 14. Daddy sat on the floor in a corner. He drank too much. But I had my six brothers and my five sisters.

As the oldest girl, my job was clear: take care of the younger ones. It never occurred to me that I might need someone to take care of me.

...

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