GOLD

I speak of wealth –of golden hearts and golden timeWherever I am is grandeur –golden sunrise, golden grainsgoldenrods, golden shrines I am the magic of August nightswhen fireflies flit aboutIn the gloom of winter nightsI bring hope twinkling from the heights Truly, I am beautyand treasure much desireda desire that need  be reinedas  old King

UPSIDE DOWN

  I live in the upside down- where going up is going down Cacophony is music and ordered notes a blow to forbearance. The mouth walks the man with swagger impressing the untrained eye. Instinct is blood fueling life follow the happy course but Reason kills the man. Self is king of a windowless room

WINTER BLUES

I surely have no love lost for winter. The freezing days discourage outdoor fun and leave me some bored and restless children whose yelling make me yell even louder. Often, I find myself checking the weather, hoping the day would bring the warmer sun. I pray the long nights do not get me undone while

WINTER

Winter breeds black roses in a soul stripped of warmth. Darkness broods in isolation begrudging the probing light. Tar flows in sullen veins fills in the spaces wounds had carved. Hands grasp at brittle sunbeams that cold had made sharp. Flowers fall into the ground marking the spot where hope once stood. Stars blink out

ANTICIPATION

One day, flowers will bloom again and I will cup their velvety petals like treasures in my hands One day, birds will sing again and my heart will beat in harmony with their song One day, the sun will be warm again and the earth and rivers will wake and the air will burst with

BEAUTY

Beauty escapes the words I have refusing to be pinned down and reduced to black ink on paper. Foolish am I to think my poem can paint the soaring trill of sparrows greeting the sun. My senses embrace what they perceive and I exalt. ~~~~~~~ DVERSE POETS’ Quadrille prompt – Poem Mundane Monday Challenge 145

PAPER BOAT

Sail away, little paper boat to the world of possibilities where existence beholds its dreams. Bring back tidings of what you see. For little feet which can’t yet go far Sail away, little paper boat Let the winds of wide-eyed wonder and innocence keep your sails afloat Puddles glisten on sodden ground beg children launch

A NEW DAY

  The morning sang a lovely tune I’ve not heard in a while Light through the window panes cast a magical time. Off the bed, I bounced landing on waltzing feet. At last I had the gift I asked a quiet night, a restful sleep. Finally, I got to write a little poem again.  It

SANTA CLAUS OF THE STREETS

Two Sundays ago, my little son and I went for a walk to the city Green to watch the Christmas display. While admiring the gigantic Santa statue, two strangers approached us. The first man was somebody we met earlier on our way to the Green and who expressed pleasure at seeing us again. Meanwhile, I

SPRING DEER

He did not know what he was doing. His brain was addled from the long winter – there was no more food in his part of the woods His coat was getting dull It was a matter of survival – stealing into the orchard to nibble at the blueberry buds just before the sun peeked