Blog Archives

Jumping straight into summer going from three
jerseys to swimsuit and shorts, I bought fairy
flip flops with diaphanous roses and sequins
too beautiful to wear, the sweet scent of
jasmine filling the air

The crocodile within me lay in the sun yesterday
luxuriating in the cool wind stroking and teasing
my skin, the inviting pool too cool for swimming
yet I dipped my head in the icy water while
my ankles froze

A layer of misty cloud wisps obscuring the sun
today, almost too late to go outside again, the
crocodile restless, inspired by dreams of great
things while all that is expected is cleaning the
kitchen; I wonder

Did Edith Holden, Edwardian author of the Country
Diary ever wash dishes, feel angry, dreamt of new
things; she simply describes the weather and
wildlife and nature trips, not a word about
any other feeling

Wonderment and joy expressed in quotes,
descriptions and enchanting drawings, I
wish I could be like this

Margaret Alice Second

Jumping straight into summer going from three
jerseys to swimsuit and shorts, I bought fairy
flip flops with diaphanous roses and sequins
too beautiful to wear, the sweet scent of
jasmine filling the air

The crocodile within me lay in the sun yesterday
luxuriating in the cool wind stroking and teasing
my skin, the inviting pool too cool for swimming
yet I dipped my head in the icy water while
my ankles froze

A layer of misty cloud wisps obscuring the sun
today, almost too late to go outside again, the
crocodile restless, inspired by dreams of great
things while all that is expected is cleaning the
kitchen; I wonder

Did Edith Holden, Edwardian author of the Country
Diary ever wash dishes, feel angry, dreamt of new
things; she simply describes the weather and
wildlife and nature trips, not a word about
any other feeling

Wonderment and joy expressed in quotes,
descriptions and enchanting drawings, I
wish I could be like this

Margaret Alice Second

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I marked the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I marked the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Robert Frost

Jumping straight into summer going from three
jerseys to swimsuit and shorts, I bought fairy
flip flops with diaphanous roses and sequins
too beautiful to wear, the sweet scent of
jasmine filling the air

The crocodile within me lay in the sun yesterday
luxuriating in the cool wind stroking and teasing
my skin, the inviting pool too cool for swimming
yet I dipped my head in the icy water while
my ankles froze

A layer of misty cloud wisps obscuring the sun
today, almost too late to go outside again, the
crocodile restless, inspired by dreams of great
things while all that is expected is cleaning the
kitchen; I wonder

Did Edith Holden, Edwardian author of the Country
Diary ever wash dishes, feel angry, dreamt of new
things; she simply describes the weather and
wildlife and nature trips, not a word about
any other feeling

Wonderment and joy expressed in quotes,
descriptions and enchanting drawings, I
wish I could be like this

Margaret Alice Second

Jumping straight into summer going from three
jerseys to swimsuit and shorts, I bought fairy
flip flops with diaphanous roses and sequins
too beautiful to wear, the sweet scent of
jasmine filling the air

The crocodile within me lay in the sun yesterday
luxuriating in the cool wind stroking and teasing
my skin, the inviting pool too cool for swimming
yet I dipped my head in the icy water while
my ankles froze

A layer of misty cloud wisps obscuring the sun
today, almost too late to go outside again, the
crocodile restless, inspired by dreams of great
things while all that is expected is cleaning the
kitchen; I wonder

Did Edith Holden, Edwardian author of the Country
Diary ever wash dishes, feel angry, dreamt of new
things; she simply describes the weather and
wildlife and nature trips, not a word about
any other feeling

Wonderment and joy expressed in quotes,
descriptions and enchanting drawings, I
wish I could be like this

Margaret Alice Second

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I’m not cute or built to suit a fashion model’s size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I’m telling lies.
I say,
It’s in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I’m a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.

I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It’s the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I’m a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.

Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can’t touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can’t see.
I say,
It’s in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I’m a woman

Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.

Now you understand
Just why my head’s not bowed.
I don’t shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It’s in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
‘Cause I’m a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.

Maya Angelou

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I’m not cute or built to suit a fashion model’s size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I’m telling lies.
I say,
It’s in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I’m a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.

I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It’s the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I’m a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.

Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can’t touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can’t see.
I say,
It’s in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I’m a woman

Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.

Now you understand
Just why my head’s not bowed.
I don’t shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It’s in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
‘Cause I’m a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.

Maya Angelou