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a book elegantly bound: October 2009
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Sunday, October 11, 2009. Unending apologies could never suffice. Nigh, they would ring untrue still. My love remains for You, of course. But like death with ribbons. Or pain with sprinkles. Beautiful garments for luster lost. At first I swayed carefully. Wary. Of stampeding Your invisible heart. With my vile idolaters heels. Yet slowly I turned my wayward step. Feet scorched on the embers of cautiousness. I chose wrong instead, tripping into his arms. He—who haunts my sickly-sweated dreams.
meganwhyte.blogspot.com
a book elegantly bound: December 2012
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Monday, December 17, 2012. I Am Adam Lanza's Teacher. I posted these comments on facebook yesterday as a response to Liza Long's blog post "Thinking the Unthinkable". As well as an anonymous post titled " I Am Adam Lanza's Psychiatrist: A Response From the Mental Health Trenches". But I wanted to post it here too with my own experiences included. I bring a very specific perspective to this argument over mental health, specifically in children, due to my role as a public school teacher. Links to this post.
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a book elegantly bound: March 2009
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Tuesday, March 31, 2009. Oh god, I am in such a terrible mood. I am not sure where this sudden repulsion for life materialized from. I got plenty of sleep last night. I had a very full and exciting weekend. I even ate breakfast this morning, Fruity Pebbles. Now this particular girl. During a ceremonious April walk. With her latest suitor. Found herself, of a sudden, intolerably struck. By the birds' irregular babel. And the leaves' litter. By this tumult afflicted, she. His gait stray uneven. Crashing on...
meganwhyte.blogspot.com
a book elegantly bound: July 2010
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Thursday, July 8, 2010. I really need to start writing again. Links to this post. Subscribe to: Posts (Atom). If your life is burning well,. Poetry is just the ash". View my complete profile. I really need to start writing again. I fancied you'd return the way you said,. But I grow old and I forget your name. I should have loved a thunderbird instead;. At least when spring comes they roar back again. I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead. I think I made you up inside my head.).
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a book elegantly bound: June 2012
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Tuesday, June 26, 2012. Ask her how she got here and she will smile and laugh and look down in her glass. Two things she's good at: drinking and keeping secrets. In the melting ice cubes she sees the past. Links to this post. Subscribe to: Posts (Atom). If your life is burning well,. Poetry is just the ash". View my complete profile. I fancied you'd return the way you said,. But I grow old and I forget your name. I should have loved a thunderbird instead;. At least when spring comes they roar back again.
meganwhyte.blogspot.com
a book elegantly bound: fragmentary
http://meganwhyte.blogspot.com/2011/04/let-her-cry.html
Tuesday, August 28, 2012. Original Post Date: March 18, 2009. First Update Post Date: May 17, 2011. Second Update Post Date: August 28, 2012. 8221; I ask. He knows the one, and pushes it into the deck, turning the volume knob all the way up at the same time the engine rumbles to life. She sits alone by a lamppost, trying to find a thought that's escaped her mind. She says Dad's the one I love the most. Dear Father, I need you, Your strength my heart to mend. I want to fly higher, Every new day again.
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a book elegantly bound: April 2009
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Thursday, April 30, 2009. Links to this post. Friday, April 24, 2009. 8220;Hey Meg. Soooo, how did it go? 8220;Well, ummmm, it was the single most terrifying experience of my life. I hate job interviews. I don’t think I blew them away or anything, so let’s just chalk it up to practice for future scenarios.". 8221; Ummm, perfect. My passion. I raise my hand, and of course I am the only one in the group because honestly, who in their right mind WANTS to teach in middle school? I leave the job fair with a p...
meganwhyte.blogspot.com
a book elegantly bound: December 2009
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Tuesday, December 29, 2009. Possessing a quiet, secret love. Muffled by silence of sleep. Eyes darkened, eclipsed golden suns. Simple warmth in which to crawl. Curled fetal, enveloped by twin orbits. Still desiring his touch. Held underwater in slippery hands. And his easy words they melted her. So few and far between. Into a drowning, milky puddle. Of hopefullness and a scant few tears. Perhaps the beginning was their curse. Salvation lied (she hoped) in their soft love. Yet, no Savior did he prove to be.
meganwhyte.blogspot.com
a book elegantly bound: twenty-six
http://meganwhyte.blogspot.com/2012/06/twenty-six.html
Tuesday, June 26, 2012. Ask her how she got here and she will smile and laugh and look down in her glass. Two things she's good at: drinking and keeping secrets. In the melting ice cubes she sees the past. July 10, 2012 at 9:07 PM. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). If your life is burning well,. Poetry is just the ash". View my complete profile. I fancied you'd return the way you said,. But I grow old and I forget your name. I should have loved a thunderbird instead;.