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Sherrie Theriault's Blog

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Dec.05.2013
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December 5     My Most Important Meal   Sweet potato pudding sits on the plate; I sit in my place and wield my spoon until the plate is clean.  I’m fed, my day begins.  If this is the best part of my day, life is still sweet and fine.  Time skips its way through and I...
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Dec.04.2013
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December 4     Relay   I have waited so long for the chase, the trap, the dig a ditch for safety, to be over and here we are; ringed, safe and surrounded.  Now the sweet work of living the life we have striven for, striven to.  I now long to be my best, do my best, for you...
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Dec.03.2013
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December 3     The Twelfth of April   When I met you, you were a power tagged and trapped in a box.  A tiger caught by its toe and yet I could do nothing but fall under the spell of your roar.  The suppressed growl you leave for me like an invitation I could never decline....
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Dec.02.2013
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December 2     At The Dodge   I remember so long ago when I would come and sit and listen; soak in the poets and the Consort, sop it all into the sponge that listened and sat.  I did not know exactly what they were doing and I didn’t know why I was there, but I went and had a...
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Dec.01.2013
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December 1     Poorly Chirping   She writes poetry like fusion jazz, more fun to make than to listen to.  She stands at the podium serving as a bad example.  I pray as she reads, “Lord, please don’t let me get sucked into the self-importance of bad poetry for the sake of...
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Nov.30.2013
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November 30     Precious Cargo   Do I carry myself as well as I could?  Do I understand the value of what is contained within me?  This journey matters, it requires my attention and comprehension, if only I am able.  When I fall short the road changes.  The...
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Nov.29.2013
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November 29     John Grisham   My time hovering low over the ocean has filled me until I am ready to drop.  The weight of what is inside me bears down; I know with the slightest cooperation I will become a rainmaker.  I am mostly fine with this; I know from whence the rain...
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Nov.28.2013
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November 28     How I’ve come upon the World.   My first exposure to Bogart was as the man who was after Bugs Bunny, and Lauren Bacall was only referred to as Baby.  I only ever heard Kaw Liga because Stephen King referenced it too often and I had to go have a listen.  I...
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Nov.27.2013
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November 27     FIVE FINGERS THAT GOBBLE   It only takes five crayons to turn a tracing of my hand into a turkey and it only takes a few things to change my drunken life into my sober life.  Looking back I am amazed how little it has actually taken to transform my life.  My...
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Nov.26.2013
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November 26     No Mickey Mouse     The Wonderful World of Disney belonged to normal children; kids with Sunday nights and not the tear filled screaming which punctuated my weekends.  I had no time for the creative melodrama built to add interest into the dull little lives...
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Nov.25.2013
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November 25     One and One   The person who has nothing is vague.  The person who has too much alludes. And these people may falsely mistake one another for kindred when what you draw your conclusions from are the poems, sweet words, which flow out of these divergent folk....
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Nov.24.2013
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November 24     Jet Lagging   Baby’s feet kick in the isle and we are all cocooned in our seats.  The movies play and earphones dangle in our ears. We are jetting across the country in our own little worlds.  Landing can not happen soon enough for me, not that I want to...
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Nov.23.2013
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November 23     Triumph   G-d and I are experience junkies; part of why I am here is so G-d can take me for a ride, but also for the treat of G-d tucking into the sidecar and letting me take us out for a spin.  I am G-d’s audience and G-d is mine; though we are not peers we are...
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Nov.22.2013
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November 22     Generational River   The history in my genes have cut a channel in the rock of existence; I pour through it everyday.  I too change the face of life one grain at a time, though I rarely recognize my affect I am so busy running.  Damns, ponding, acts of G-d...
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Nov.21.2013
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November 21     Blanda   I know how good a quarterback you are on Monday, safely at home.  What were you like on the field, gameday?  You act as if seeing your mistakes in retrospect is the same as not having made them, but the game is lost and a rematch is not a do-over....
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