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Poets' Coop's E-Group Forum: A Virtual Writers' Group

Need some feedback on a work in progress? Try the Poets' Coop's e-Group. Cut & paste your poem into this free "electronic bulletin board" for others to critique. To get your own creative juices flowing, maybe you just need to reflect on another's poem or to give our monthly Poetic Challenge a try. Come give some constructive criticism. Check back often to see what the others have to say or check the box to get an email whenever someone has commented.

Poets' Coop's E-Group Forum: A Virtual Writers' Group
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poem

he Blanket



I'm alone now; don't ask me how I know.

Yesterday, I went to the "Dollar" store,

and bought myself a blanket; a pale green,

woolen blanket for five bucks.

Of course I've had blankets before;

Some nurse wrapped me in one; it was

probably blue, and my mother was always

tucking me in, and I always took one or

two to the beach.

I mean, I've had horse blankets, electric

blankets, heavy blankets and thin blankets.

But I never ever bought one for myself.

On the way home, when no one was looking,

I reached inside the bag and touched it,

and seeing no one was watching, I smiled.

No, my name's not Linus,and I'm not prone

to sucking my thumb, but I'll tell you

one thing; later that night, lying on my

usual spot, the floor, I pulled the blanket

over me, smiled one more time

to the silent, lonely darkness,

and slept better than I have for years.

Sometimes, the best thing about being alone

is being alone.

Re: poem


Hey Dale.

This piece says a lot simply. I know the feeling. When my X threw me out I had nothing & slept my first night alone in an apartment without heat with only a blanket (the first one I had ever bought for comfort.) I love your last line.

~M.D.

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Replying to:

he Blanket



I'm alone now; don't ask me how I know.

Yesterday, I went to the "Dollar" store,

and bought myself a blanket; a pale green,

woolen blanket for five bucks.

Of course I've had blankets before;

Some nurse wrapped me in one; it was

probably blue, and my mother was always

tucking me in, and I always took one or

two to the beach.

I mean, I've had horse blankets, electric

blankets, heavy blankets and thin blankets.

But I never ever bought one for myself.

On the way home, when no one was looking,

I reached inside the bag and touched it,

and seeing no one was watching, I smiled.

No, my name's not Linus,and I'm not prone

to sucking my thumb, but I'll tell you

one thing; later that night, lying on my

usual spot, the floor, I pulled the blanket

over me, smiled one more time

to the silent, lonely darkness,

and slept better than I have for years.

Sometimes, the best thing about being alone

is being alone.

Re: poem

..Dale A. Edmands../..i much enjoyed your poem; it
has a mysteriously gentle melody throughout; thanks..


../..Spiros


---------------calming----------