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MY GIFT

Untitled

COLOR BLIND

MY GIFT

Healer of Dreams



REPOSTED: TO STEVIE - ON YOUR 14TH ANNIVERSARY IN HEAVEN

You Raise Me Up

YOU RAISE ME UP

Untitled

ANNIVERSARY WALTZ

MIRACLES, October 28, 2011

TO MILT: HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY IN HEAVEN, Edited and Reposted

POETRY

Dear Stevie, Happy Birthday in Heaven, Reposted

A NICE JEWISH GIRL FROM THE BRONX AND NEW JERSEY

CHAPTER IN MY BOOK: MEMORIES OF SUMMER CAMP

PORTION OF CHAPTER FROM MY NEW BOOK

MEMORIES: SAMPLE CHAPTER OF MY NEW BOOK

MY FIVE ANGELS

THE REPORTER

REMEMBERING MAMA -- BELLE OF THE BALL, Edited for Mother's Day 2011

A NICE JEWISH GIRL FROM THE BRONX AND NEW JERSEY

SHIRLEY TEMPLE AND ME

ROCK'EM SOCK'EM ROBOTS

LEVINE (Memories of My Father)

EVELYN'S DOLL

MEMORIES: I AM A BAR MITZVAH VETERAN

HEALER OF DREAMS

EVE - - - CURED

SAMPLE CHAPTER OF A NICE JEWISH GIRL FROM THE BRONX

LETTER TO RONNIE

RONNIE

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Sig by RainStorme                              
           THE POETRY WORKSHOP
               I sat
               In a room filled with poets
               And read
               From the paper on my lap.

               When I was through
               I listened.

               The poets explained
               To each other
               The meaning behind
               My words.
               I nodded my head.
               But I didn't understand.

               I had written
               About a god and a goddess
               Who were fashioned from clouds.
               I told how they cried,
               How their tears watered the earth.
               The poets knew why they cried.
               Some were sure my unearthly beings were sad.
               Others just as sure the tears were happy ones.
               I didn't explain because
               I didn't know.

               "Why 'unearthly' beings?"
               A woman asked,
               "Why not 'otherworldly' beings?"
               "Because 'unearthly' is the word I chose."

               "Why does a goddess wear a cotton gown?"
               The brilliant lady wanted to know.
               I shrugged my shoulders and asked
               Myself,
               What should she be wearing,
               The Cloud Lady?
               Satin?
               Taffeta?
               Lame'?
               Or should she be naked
               Like Lady Godiva --
               Or the girls in the centerfold of
               Playboy Magazine?

               "It's understood,"
               The woman explained,
               "That their teardrops
               Are watering the leaves.
               You can eliminate those lines."
  
               So I erased them.

               "And your last line
               Is not necessary."

               So I crossed it out.

               "Beautiful work,"
               She commented.

               "Thank you."
              
               I looked down at my paper.
               There were some lines left,
               But they didn't make sense.

               I looked up at the lady.
               She smiled.

      (This woman was a high school English teacher, who invited me, many years
      later, to be a guest in her creative writing class.  I watched her "critique"
      her students' poetry).
                                       Annette Wexler        





  
              






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