Last week’s poems were about What Love Looks Like. This weeks are under the umbrella of STILL

Even though
it’s February
Even though
it’s another year
Even though
I am not young
Even though
snow and snow
Even though
my son is 29
the word
is still.

Esther Cohen
Let me tell you why I'm here, and why I hope you'll join me. I am here to poem, to play with words, to tell stories when I can, and to ask you for yours. Words are what I love, how I see, and what I say. Words are how I know my life, and how I find my friends. I'm here to ask you to join me. Right here. To send me your stories, and your poems. And to read mine when you can.


  1. At first it seems there are two “stills” – that which continues and that which does not move… still water, and still there is war. But of course they are the same. Still, there are two – the stillness we are glad for, and the stillness we deplore. Still I dream of a perfect world while still the world defies me…

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