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A free woman's voice opens as a flower to the sun.

thoughts of a free woman...

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#If Women are to find their voice

1/31/2015

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How to feel inspired each day

is quite a challenge, I must say

However clever it may seem

to think of something fresh and clean

each day is quite a daunting task

Yet of my readers, all I ask

is that you click and read, enjoy

to make it worthwhile, my employ

Today I point you to my book

I'm hoping that you take a look

Consider downloading the file

or take a peek at the free trial

The subject matter is concerning

As human beings, we are still learning

There's commentary on corruption

on Terrorism, and disruption

on insecurity and unfairness

with hopes to raise Mankind's awareness

But one thing's certain, it's our choice

if Women are to find their VOICE!






Below is a link to my book, where you can download a free sample of my work:
https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/the-moon-of-compassion/id892598396?mt=11


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Woman Rising
by Womansvoice1

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#Time is the coin of your life, be careful how you spend it

1/24/2015

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Father Time is ticking on this morning

 I'm sitting sipping Earl Grey tea and yawning
 Thinking 'bout my followers and wishing 
that I knew who you are, and fishing
 for further information.


 I came across this quote that caught my eye
 Aha! I thought! A wise and thoughtful guy
 has written this quote, and Googled him
 and sure enough, I learned the truth therein 
A source of inspiration!


 Carl Sandburg was a poet of American repute
 A poet of strength with a Pulitzer salute
 He wrote of Abe Lincoln, and of American daily life 
He was honored by Congress; loved by Lillian, his wife
 Wrote poems for the Nation


 He supported civil rights and wrote about The War Years 
wrote poetry for children and the Rootabaga stories
 He became a story teller, and loved the precious things 
 that come for free, like stars and wind, and baby birds with wings 
He encouraged the child's heart, with imagination


 His overall philosophy was to keep a youthful heart 
To salute the dawn and mornings with a fresh and fearless start
 His message was for social change, a subject dear to mine 
It must be synchronicity this morning that I find 
A poet of such liberation


 And so I fashioned this piece of art
 For you, my friends, before we part 
I wish you happiness today, 
 and peace within. Like Carl, I say 
TIME bears consideration

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#I wept when I heard the news today, using little girls as prey

1/17/2015

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I wept when I heard the news today
 Using little girls as prey
 The Boko Haram crossed the line 
for any cause, in any time 
throughout man's history

 Sacrificing children is unspeakable to boast
 Who are these fathers, uncles, sons 
 who dare to act as host
 to such atrocity?

 The horror of it stultifies 
How anyone can justify,
 promote their cause or win their fight
 by blowing up children to incite 
their enemy to surrender.

 No man, no woman on this earth
 has the right to force their worth
 by torturing those youthful souls
 to use as bait and force control
 in the name of God or Allah

The blood of children stains their hands
 eroding evolution's sands 
of time, and growing rot 
Condemn you ! "Out damned spot!"
 "You are in blood, stepped in so far, 
 that you should wade no more ..." 

 May they never sleep again
 Those wretched Satanistic men 
Those members of the human race
 with so much blood upon their face
 Would shame their mother's Mother

 Commit them to repent their sins
 Remind them nightly in their dreams 
No more for them the promised land 
 No peace of mind, no joyful hand
 of kindness, or of Lover

 And so I pray to my Great Spirit
 somewhere in the realms of good
 Search my soul for forces in it
 to preserve the world's childhood
 from such malignity 

 Confused and angry as I weep
 I pray your souls for God to keep
 I cannot, will not understand 
 the evil posture of command
 to kill in the name of any God

And for those children, suffer them
 to come to her with gentle arms
 Not Arms of war, not hatred's call 
but come to Mother one and all
 to Mother Nature's spirit call
 to rest in Peace forever




Poem by Susan Golden
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Combination art by Womensvoice1 

https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/the-moon-of-compassion/id892598396?mt=11
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# How I love thee little son, sweetly dreaming of a gun

1/10/2015

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The events over the past week in Paris, France have given great cause for concern.

Not just because of the general terror caused, and the loss of lives, but because it undermines the whole issue of freedom of speech. Of course, I have my own opinion regarding how much freedom one should have to express hatred, and malicious opinion, but unfortunately  if freedom of speech is sacred, then it will embrace a certain amount of negative energy.

One of the reasons I write Poetry for social change, is because I do not feel I have the knowledge base or eloquence for in depth, real time, political discussion, or persuasive speech.

I do however, pride myself in being able to savor and choose words in my own time, for poetic expression and hope that I get my message across.

After putting my foot in it somewhat this morning, by poorly translating my sentiment into French, I decided that I should probably stick to what I know best.

 I cannot understand the whole radicalized fundamental viewpoint, and am certain that most others do not either. But I am seriously worried that sooner or later, all Muslims will be “tarred with the same brush" as radicalized fundamentalists, and victimized for their religion, because of mass public misunderstanding.

 Already there are anti-Muslim demonstrations happening in Germany, and France. The sentiment is spreading rapidly in the States, and people are quick to judge in their ignorance. Ethnic cleansing is already happening in Africa, and Syria, and I foresee the emergence of that kind of blind prejudice and violence spreading like a communicable disease.

I feel that it is time for the true and reverent practicing Muslims of this world to stand up and be counted for what they believe is a peaceful and beautiful way of life. I see tweets to that effect, and I read condemnations of the terrorist behaviors of radicalized Islamic thugs. But so far, no globally recognizable leader has emerged. The only recognizable leaders are those inciting medieval violence on the side of the extremists.
Their heads are like Medusa; you cut off one, and another emerges.

The Global condemnation of the Charlie Hebdo massacre in Paris was one of solidarity.

 Charlie Hebdo's website, which went offline during the attack, showed the single image of "Je suis Charlie" ("I am Charlie) on a black banner, referring to a hashtag that is trending on Twitter in solidarity with the victims.

Around the world there were many cartoons published demonstrating that the cryptic freedom of speech illustrated by cartoons will not be silenced by Terrorism.

 To view some of these cartoons, visit the link below.

 http://www.npr.org/blogs/thetwo-way/2015/01/07/375622835/united-in-grief-cartoonists-show-solidarity-with-charlie-hebdo

For my own part, instead of cartoons, I will share with you a poem that I wrote over two years ago. One in which an Islamic Mother rocks her baby to sleep singing a lullaby for social change.

 I have illustrated my poem with a disarming Madonna like figure, rocking a baby to sleep with a toy rifle in his arms.
It is called Lullaby baby, and you can hear me sing in in my book, The Moon of Compassion.

How I love thee little son

Sweetly dreaming of a gun

To rid the world of sin and strife

Gently rocking for your life

Things are changing little son

Sisters rising one by one

See them waking

Stronger still

See them breathing

Power and Will

Tables turning

Wise ones learning

Father’s eyes are prying open

Seeing, hearing prayers unspoken

Rigid thoughts are smashed

And broken

Come to me my darling son

Count our blessings

One by one

No more vestal virgins waiting

No more suicide or hating

Sweetly rock you

Rock you Rock you

Feel my bosom's rise

Unlock you

Shed the chains of long tradition

Feed your soul and intuition

Recognize your sisters all

Let the bonds of Dogma fall

Embrace the dawn

Of woman's call

How I love thee little son

Men are changing

One by one

See them running

Come come come! 
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#Friendship is like the Holly tree.. Emily Bronte

1/3/2015

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Love is like the wild-rose briar;
Friendship is like the holly-tree.
The holly is dark when the rose briar blooms,
But which will bloom most constantly?
~Emily Brontë


To Blog, or not to blog.. That is the question!

It’s Saturday again, and I had the most horrendously busy week, even though I had a hiatus on New Year ’s Day.

 The hospital was full and we were so busy, that I worked eleven hour shifts  most of the time, and rolled home exhausted. At 60, I am beginning to realize that I cannot do what I used to, and retirement seems very inviting. So the idea of blogging this morning was yet another chore in my mind, and I had no idea what I would write about. I checked my Stats, and noticed that most people read my blog on the weekend. I am very gratified to have any followers,  and on most weekends I have about 130 new people reading my small contribution to cyberspace. I often wonder what my readers think, whether you are men or women. I rarely get any specific feedback, except for the stats. But I feel an obligation and a warm connection with my regular readers; enough to keep me going on days when I don’t really feel very inspired.

 Then someone came to the door, unannounced, and it was one of my girlfriends whom I have not seen in several weeks. We rarely get any time to talk, and usually, when we see each other, we are in a crowd, or constantly interrupted, and so intimate conversation is less likely.

 So Valerie and I had a wonderful morning, eating breakfast together, reconnecting and laughing and catching up on the news. We talked of politics and religion and family and friends, with a spattering of medicine and mentions of “Obamacare”, and even immigration. Not once were we interrupted by our phones, or by anyone else. It was so refreshing to abandon all my house work, and all my workaholic plans and just enjoy human connection. I feel satiated! It made me feel so grateful for my friendships; so thankful for my friends.

 
A friend knows the song in my heart and sings it to me when my memory fails.

 ~Donna Roberts

 I have so many girlfriends over the world with whom, regretfully, I have no time with anymore. I try to keep up my friendships by email and Facebook , but it is not the same. At my age, one doesn’t  make friends as easily as one used to, and work and obligations tend to  get in the way. Old friends are like family , one can always pick up where you left off, no matter how long you have spent apart.

The most beautiful discovery true friends make is that they can grow
separately without growing apart. ~Elisabeth Foley


Each chapter in my life has a pocket of friendships that blend into my lifeline, leaving little trails  down memory lane . We can each choose to take the time to follow those trails once in a while, to refresh our souls , and bring renewed joy into our hearts.

In everyone’s life, at some time, our inner fire goes out. It is then burst into flame by an encounter with another human being. We should all be thankful for those people who rekindle the inner spirit. ~Albert Schweitzer

 So I wanted to remind you of the special connection you may have with old friends. How often do you stop, put down the iPad, or the tablet, abandon the self- imposed obligations, and just BE with someone. Or how often do you decide to write a letter to an old friend, or call on the telephone. Does the house work really matter ? Can you leave a project for a day, just to feel that you have nurtured yourself a little ? Even if you don’t want to talk, or feel depressed, a friend can be there to share your sorrows, or just be supportive.

The best kind of friend is the one you could sit on a porch with, never saying a word, and walk away feeling like that was the best conversation you’ve had. ~Author Unknown

 
Today, I celebrate my friends.

Today I make a new year’s resolution to reconnect with some of my old friends that I have not seen in years. Either by writing, calling or visiting.

Despite my life, despite my work, despite my commitments.
Without the legacy of my friendships, I would not be where I am today.
My life is a long journey, and my friendships are the wind that fill my sails.

 
There are big ships and small ships. But the best ship of all is friendship.

~Author Unknown 

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https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/the-moon-of-compassion/id892598396?mt=11
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    Susan Golden

    Born, raised and educated in Cornwall, England., Sue moved to America in 1981.
    After many years of life experience, her first bookof poetry for social change, is published. Available on iBooks.
     https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/the-moon-of-compassion/id892598396?mt=11

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