CarolDesjarlais• Show poetry

I WILL BE GONE FOR A MONTH OR TWO. I WILL TRY TO STOP IN. THINK OF ME KINDLY UNTIL I RETURN THEN YOU CAN THINK OF ME WHAT YOU WILL.


As in poetry, as in life: I ramble and ramble and circle and circle around a subject, like a wolf trying to decide which way to have its bed.

2005 – 296 poems
2006 - 476 poems
2007 - 1631 poems
removed for addition into publications- 380 poems
2008 -
Jan. - 48
Feb. - 0
Mar. - 14
Apr. - 33
May - 61
June - 57
July - 34
Aug. - 47


Shhhhhh: A Creation Story
http://www.lulu.com/shewolfnative


Can be downloaded as well.


homepage - http://www.shewolfnative2.com
My Art - http://www.flickr.com/photos/lady_breathes


Newest publications
- "Creationism" and "God's Gourds" published in next issue of "cyclamensandswords".
-"The Good Red Road" - Poemata - Canadian Poetry Association Volume 21, #02 -"Hear It Israel", Turning to Tune Night Needs", Hated Heat On Bare Feet" - Voices Anthology - poems from Israel and abroad Vol. 33 2007
- "Pursuing a Poem of Peace", "Rock of Rages" - Voices Israel Anothology, 2008.


photo= yup, 61 now....

To My favorites,

Poetry is one of the authentically soulful arts. It takes enhanced seeing, a deep and abiding sense of poignancy of all things, an ability to discern relevance, and more: It takes the ability to move to higher-planed thought.

Poets are keepers of truth, and reality, and things of spirit. They are sculptors of word and thought of their culture, traditions, beliefs, hopes and dreams. They are open souls who are willing to risk all for a well-coined phrase. They are story-keepers, with access to the voices of the ancients. They are explorers, miners, and dredgers of treasurers and gems beyond pricing. They are the bestowers of gentleness, gavels of justice, and the most humane of humans. They disturb and bestow, perturb and comfort. They play with shadows and light, with language and liturgies. They are pastors and popes, they are saints and martyrs, and they write about how in love they are with parables and phrases, stanzas and words they have wrung from depths of their hearts. They articulate the inexpressible, fashion grace out of cruelty, pour pain out on paper and make it beautiful, and readers are transmuted by the flickering knowledge that there is more to know.

Poets send out the songs of their souls and lucky the reader who reaches out to make them theirs. Poets are the awakeners of ancient knowing that waits in our souls for someone to say it, to write it, to sign it, to pass it forward through the ether to touch us.

“My heart rouses
thinking you bring news
of something

that concerns you
and concerns many men. Look at
what passes for the new.

You will not find it there but in
despised poems.

It is difficult
to get the new from poems
yet men die miserably every day
for lack

of what is found there.
-William Carlos Williams


Bless the wordsmiths and the wranglers of life that pick up the soft strewn notices of things that make them reach for their pens. Bless the pens and the paper and the sweet pulse of poets’ inspiration that makes the most of infinitesimal space in which they can write their hearts out. Bless the eyes that read and the hearts that know A Poet.

With admiration and appreciation,
Carol