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Remember anyone can dream and nothing's bad as it may seem...
~ "Pretend" lyrics by Douglas, Parman & Lavere
Back then all we had to do
was say let's pretend...
and ballerinas and pirates
would spring to life on our stage
there was never a doubt--
we could be anything
our hearts desired
so today I eat my lunch
of grapes and cheese
on the painted Italian plate
pretend I'm in Tuscany
Lombardy trees verdant
outside my window
and the old walled town
I climb to is sunny
the grapes luscious
though almost overripe
but then lunch is finished
castles fade, sky turns gray
and what next asks my rogue heart
as snow begins to drift
© by Sharon Auberle.
Used with the author's permission.
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Photo by Len Villano
Sharon Auberle is a poet and photographer who lives in Door County, Wisconsin. Author of six poetry collections, her work has appeared in numerous publications and on-line magazines, as well as a variety of anthologies. Sharon served as Poet Laureate of Door County from 2017- 2019; her latest book is Dovetail, a poetry/sketch collaboration with poet and artist Jeanie Tomasko, which won the Wisconsin Fellowship of Poets Annual Chapbook Prize. Sharon’s earlier years of living in the spare landscapes of the Southwest, and now surrounded by Northern woods and waters, along with interests in Zen, music, and photography, provide her with endless inspiration.
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Joe Sottile:
Bravo! Yes, pretend...
Posted 05/22/2013 10:54 PM
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mimi:
thanks everyone, for all your good and kind words...
Sharon Auberle
Posted 05/22/2013 09:43 PM
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rksanders@charter.net:
Our phrase, Sharon, was "pretend like..." and oh, the places that could take us to. And still does. Thanks for the reminder.
Posted 05/22/2013 07:19 PM
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Janet Leahy:
Just a bit of peace in the old walled town, lovely poem, thanks Sharon.
Posted 05/22/2013 12:07 PM
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Ralph Murre:
Excellent, as always. And maybe, just this once, the snow won't begin to drift. It's been near two weeks, now.
Posted 05/22/2013 10:57 AM
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peninsulapoet:
I am a Sharon Auberle fan. Another lovely poem. Donna Hilbert.
Posted 05/22/2013 10:03 AM
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Jo:
Your rogue heart--a conjurer that makes magic happen. It's raining here today as I munch on grapes and sit on that sunny wall. I could stay here for hours.
Fine poem Sharon.
Posted 05/22/2013 09:32 AM
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wendy morton:
I'm with Sharon. What's next is always a surprise, even if it isn't Tuscany.
Lovely. The world is our imagination.
Posted 05/22/2013 09:26 AM
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ed werstein:
beautiful, Sharon. I think I'll go back to Santiago for lunch.
Posted 05/22/2013 08:03 AM
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Wilda Morris:
Well done, Sharon. I think I will let my rogue heart take me to Venice or London or San Miguel de Allende for a while this morning!
Posted 05/22/2013 06:50 AM
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jeanie:
love the rogue heart, sharon! very nice poem.
Posted 05/22/2013 06:44 AM
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TheSilverOne:
As a person who never outgrew a wild imagination, I relate to this beautiful poem. ~Doris
Posted 05/22/2013 06:36 AM
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mjorlock:
I love the way this poem works its way to its final, almost jarring, image--which is, nevertheless, as serene as the Italian landscape the speaker imagined. This is an exceptionally well-crafted poem: simple but profound.
Posted 05/22/2013 05:55 AM
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