When I wrote this poem some years ago, I thought it was a bit boring. Such plain subjects: a kitchen, baking, a woman. Now, reading it again, I love it. Plain or no, simple things are beautiful. Reading it, I remember my mom. She is the subject of this poem. And I remember the grateful,
When I sit in my chair
Comfortable like a familiar hug
And drink coffee in the morning.
I watch the cars drive past my window…
In response to a recent blog post, “7 Things I’ve Learned about Marriage (After Two Months of It)” a reader wrote this poem. I liked it so well I wanted to share it with you. Thank you, EAN, for the poem. *** Just like a tapestry Carefully woven A marriage is born Where love is
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He’s not angel. Not demon. Just flesh. I thought I would come to know someone different: a hero perhaps. In my mad moments, someone inferior: dumber, meaner, more annoyed. Turns out he’s made of the same substance I am. Wrong sometimes. Right sometimes. Always best when he’s not aware of it. In
Poem and pictures by Sharla Baer. *** Hello. I am Sharla. I paint and draw emotions and life. I love music and art and old books. Coffee too, but I don’t think I’m addicted yet. The best part of my life is my fiance, Chadwick. He and I will be married this fall. This summer
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