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  • Diana Joy


Small, quiet, shy.

Timid even.


Absent mindedly staring

out the classroom window

she forms an early relationship

with the narrator inside

her little blond head.

This is her original self.

Disguised beneath the years

of growing, learning,

fun, fear,

love, loss,

pain, scars.

The veneer of confidence

projected out of necessity

for survival.


Nothing has changed.

She is still

the small, shy,

narrator of her own life.

Recent Posts

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Ride a Blue Horse

Will you ride a wild blue horse? Gallop red field leave purple wake jump diamond fence land on lightening ride it to Orion I will see your light forever. Purple hoof beats on black canvas sewn to my b

Nine One One

My Dad fell … Ambulance Mmm hmm, mmm hmm Yes, that’s right, suite 422 No, he’s not bleeding Breathing? Yes, but laboured He can’t … I don’t know He can’t get up Please, we need hel … No Eighty seven N

Lessons Learned (so far) From NaPoWriMo 2019

Writing a poem a day is really hard. This process does not work for me. Although, it does force a lot of new material. Force being the operative word. It is more effective for me to do two or three po


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