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Author: Ingrid Foster

Did I Ever Really Know You

Did I Ever Really Know You

I had to say “goodbye” today, you said it once before

To me when we were young and I was not your type

Or so it seemed…

And now you say you were shy and unsure and I was so

Much more than you ever thought you could have,

That’s not the you I remember.

But now I think the you I know is too quick with words

That you think I want to hear.

Alarm bells have sounded and now I must go for the you

I now know is not the you I once knew and I wonder

Did I ever really know you at all?

Copyright 2010



I can’t focus

I can’t think

The wanderlust is growing

It’s time to go,

I feel it so

With each degree it rises

The winter sun now getting hot

My patience is imploding

I loved it here

Our home away

My favorite destination

Now with each day

I fight my restlessness

Homes boarded up

Cupboards locked

Our neighbors have gone north

We are alone

I hate to moan

But it’s time we move on

My inner spirit warns

Yesterday it spoke

It was no joke

It’s voice was loud and clear

I’m done with here

This cross to bear

The Wanderers must depart.

Copyright 2008

The Writer

The Writer

I’m floundering


Too scared to know

Where to begin

I’m lost in a maze

Of confusion

Not knowing where

To start and

where to end.

There are so many stories


A thousand voices calling

My name.

All pleading for

My attention.



Why this feeling of anxiety?

I’ve been consumed by it everyday

As though something is missing in my life

I miss having a library to spend countless hours writing

Or researching

I miss fresh air and sunshine

And long to have a balcony to relax on

Without the feeling of being pent up

In a box!

I miss stores and malls to escape to

I miss peace of mind and large bank accounts

I think we’ve been down here far too long

At this the sandy bottom of the US

I don’t long for open roads but rather open spaces

To allow my mind to soar as needed.

I am not made for pent up closures

I am not made for rules or restrictions

I am made for life and living

And breathing

And the endless flight

Of a creative mind.

Am I Wrapped in a Layer of Ambiguity?

Am I Wrapped in a Layer of Ambiguity?

I am lost in the daze of an unfamiliar fog

Mentally drained, emotionally depleted and

Physically? Restless, yes, I yearn to walk

Among the colorful landscapes of my youth,

Where reds and golds and browns layered

The ground while filling the sky above my head,

I long for chilly temperatures and the light of

Jack-a-lanterns …and the dresses and long capes

We wore back then, I long for the fellowship of

Family, the songs, the dancing, the merriment as

We embraced the natural world long gone…

I was different then, I was wild and free, and we

Were…hunted,  we did not fit their ideal,

We were strange and our naturalness was

Unnatural in their eyes, we were a threat, and so

They chased us and imprisoned us, and ultimately,

Burned us, but not to rid the earth of us, but rather

To purge their own damaged souls…, Is this why

I feel so restless? Are the memories of who and what

I was returning? Am I denying my true self?

Perhaps that is why I yearn for the simple ‘ness

Of yesterday and the love of the family and friends

Long gone…but I wonder, are the lives we live today real?

Or a lie, a search for fulfillment as we strived to hide

The truth of who we are inside, Or maybe, that’s just me.

Copyright 2014

They Marched Through My Dream

They Marched Through My Dream

They marched in a line, through the

Darkness of my dream, their bodies

Engorged as I remembered them, eyes

Wide, frightened, reflecting our betrayal,

To this day I remember her, her loss

I felt so strongly as a child, hearing her

Loud, horrified cries as that man

With his three stubbed fingers,

Forced her onto the bed of his truck,

“No,” I had yelled, cried out, she was

My world, my Molly…and she was there

At the head of the line, Molly so big,

So beautiful,

They were all there, Molly, her daughter

Beauty, and Baby, my Becky’s mother and some

I hardly remember, ones we hadn’t named,

In a long line,


My father, he was gone, but his words,

His history, his indifference remained,

A farm is no place for the soft of heart,

Our food begets our food, the first mistake

Is naming them, the second is loving them,

And the third is sending them to slaughter,

I left the farm right after high school and

Never looked back, the memories, the

Reminders, they still haunt my dreams,

My own private nightmares,

Of a place I can never return to,

And a barn that was both my haven

And the place of my first, worst nightmare.

Fleeting Bliss

Fleeting Bliss

The rain upon the desert falls

Drenching it’s sweet moisture

Upon the cacti, tall arms lifted up

Embracing the not-so-gentle drops

As in the distance lightning stabs the

Dark sky while thunder, like a rude

House guest, disrupts this fleeting bliss.

The Muse, the Knife and the Football

The Muse, the Knife and the Football

I love to write

When words slide smoothly

As butter from a hot knife,

I love to write when

Ideas flow as quickly

As a brook in spring thaw,

I love to write

When my muse whispers words

So clear that my fingers can’t keep up,

I love to write

During the quiet hours when no

One interrupts my thoughts,

But not today

The stories dance around my head

Visually, I can see the characters and

The narrative, even the dialogue,

But somehow from point A to point B

Something is lost, And

Writing today is like a dull knife

Cutting a football.

I am Free!

I am Free!

I am Free!

Joy, happiest joy,

This writer writes, this poet sings

With words, emotional and strong

Gushing forth like a river on a sun dried land.

Sweet vulnerability, intoxicating happiness,

Though once imprisoned,

I have been set free!

My expressions once so bruised, so pained

Now minus scar and matured with age.

Joy, overwhelming joy,

How wonderful to find

My gift intact,

My words, once hidden now exposed.

Bliss, enraptured bliss, elation,

As I experience sensations missing for so long.

Dreams long withheld finding wings again.

A smile curls my lips as I embrace my soul.

Oh sweet ado, my words are lost no more!

I have traveled many years to be in this time, this place

Where freedom lifts my soul

And I am once again, made whole.


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