Dear WordPress

You let me search my heart and my soul
To write of emotions within me, that I hold.

I have a friend in you, a confidante
It’s always your shoulder I seek, I want.

With patience, you have heard me rant
I seek the happiness, the peace you grant.

My writing has become my voice
That was once silent, but now has a choice.

The poetry I read here, fires my creativity
Gentle criticism soothes my sensitivity.

Some very beautiful friendships I have made
Lasting emotions that will never fade.

What I write comes straight from the heart
even the mistakes, unknowingly, on my part

But you have been patient, helped me learn
The warmth at WordPress, I will always yearn.

80 thoughts on “Dear WordPress

      1. Something wrong. I can see you’ve sent it but it’s blank. Both the original and the one you just resent. Can’t understand.

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      1. She is doing well, she has been pretty upset about our dog passing since they spent so much time together but her boyfriend is great and taking her on a cruise so she has been looking forward to that! Thank you for asking:)

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  1. Great words yassy. An excellent community full of very talented writers. It has been a pleasure to connect with you and I have enjoyed your work. I am looking forward to reading more in 2017. Enjoy the festivities.

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    1. Thank you David. Yes, we have so much creativity, talent and goodwill amongst all bloggers .,I can say the same about you, great bonding here we share with our common love for poetry. I enjoy your work immensely. You have a wonderful Christmas Davy.

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      1. Thank you yassy for your kind words. I am blessed that I am able to be part of such a great community. Have a wonderful Christmas too.

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  2. I was just going to stop by and say “Thanks” for saying what I am sure so many of use have mused, perhaps privately and not so well said publicly by you, and then I got caught up in reading the commentary again…and again…and must say what a wonderful sparkplug you give to so many voices, Yassy. This grin I get from your work – and some few others, mostly in memory long cherished – actually hurts my cheeks it is so wide and long-lived. Again, dear one, mil gracias!

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    1. Missed talking to you, are you so busy cooking. Keep a chair for me, tell the missus. I think WordPress has been enriched with folks like you. Are you still cooking. Hang out with me for a while

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      1. No missus, Yassy: the pair I had asked – thankfully we both times decided to decline – lies told and lived from both sides spoiled that brew. I come down to the civic/senior center or the town library to get on-line and commit WP and Twitter and FB and emails and such, my own ‘puter(s) too young to expose to the WWW. I have a quacamole and refried black (and pinto) bean mix with diced grape tomatoes, jalapenos, Mexican air-dried chorizo sausages minced, shallots and red onions with garlic chives and cilantro (and maybe some cuulantro as well) in both with my own cut-into-triangles cornmeal tortillas – so I can control the salt content – for dipping with a couple of beers just for slake’s sake. Miss hanging with you, three! I’ve got a half-hour on the library time…soon the biblioteca will be operating Sundays and I will endure the coming rennovation at the civic/senior center – but not enough to drive me to on-line my poor work-puter. A very Merry (and Happy) Christmas to you, dear Yassy!

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      2. Even in pain, but especially in great joy (and is there any other kind?) merry is a word for world. I found a 1911-signed Pippa Passes play from Robert Browning, soft tooled leather en-globed from a dear niece (Nieces-2-Pieces: the elder one gets an also-soft-leather-bound book of earlier vint but of vignettes as befits a young Jacobs School of Music (opera) soprano. The previous clangs away at her English/Library Science(?) PhD, also at Indiana whilst persuing her mideival lit love. And from you, I get a pal who pushes and pulls and evokes and emits and like the Bruce Jewett we both know through this medium I yet may say to you both: thank you dear ones for reminding me of the same things: laughs left on soft untrod scenes are equal at least to joy’s undry rivulets and perhaps both are the same thing after all. Merry rest-of-this-life dear lady!

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