Thunder Gives Its Preceding Applause
The Rain gifts blessings multi-fold,
aided by its sister Wind, earth reaps.
Bounties plentiful, harvests gold ,
as into awaiting soil it seeps.
Fields cry for the coming spray,
showers sent to man and beast.
If withheld we begin to truly pray,
so that we live and may have a feast.
Echoes in Heaven announce the Rain,
thunder gives its preceding applause.
A gift, same as in our births pain,
we must conform to Nature's laws.
Skies above gift this blessing down.
Upon earth's thirsty, waiting gown.
Robert J. Lindley, 07-18-2015
Nature's gift, this bounty we receive,
Gods love, even as Satan deceives
Look up to give returning praise,
for from death only He was ever raised...
Copyright © Robert Lindley
A SONNET OF LIFE
(Apropos The Children I Know)
Act your age my darling little child;
Take care not to go about in blinded haste.
Enjoy this lovely life for a while;
Time is elusive and you have none to waste.
Listen, candy does not always last very long;
Can be as hard as rock, yet melts as easy as ice:
Teases your tongue with sweetness and then its gone;
Leaving you wading the emptiness of something once nice.
Yes, when you are young, innocent and very sweet,
This old life can throw many enticing things you way:
Making you think that it’s all good and life is always neat;
But be aware my child, life has her debts we all are bound to pay.
For just as the night must surly turn into another day;
You my child, like me, will eventually grow old and gray.
Copyright © millard lowe
I want to say good night
But its night as yet to you
I can see darkness now
If maybe you never left
I have to say good night
Darkness has defeated me
Only your love can resurrect me
I am afraid to go now
But I have to go and live under the shads
Love me to my silent place
Good night when you see the moon
Flower me with roses from abandon garden
Cover me with what i was and be now
Good night sleep with elevated power
Copyright © Zakhe Michael Mcunu
You my precious precious thing
You I would have to wear my ring
Upon your finger you would
Wear a crown
And in thou service
I'd humbly bow
Kneel before you with my heart
Holding sacred all thou art
Holy would be my love so true
Given so faithfully unto you
And when reminded
Of your hand so dear
And the vision of my ring
And the arm that wears the hand
With the body with which
And the head so beautiful still
That captures all my ways
With the eye's that stole
And the smile with which
My soul departs
Keep me and my unseen parts
Upon your hand and in your heart
Take my soul where ever thou art
Into heaven the deepest part
And never let our souls be apart
Made in heaven as heavens art
Copyright © john loving iii
As we were eating an omelette with tomatoes
I asked my wife if we ever had sex because I had
difficulties in remembering it or rather picture it.
She said yes and said I was quite good at it which
was flattering like being a good driver, I was once
offered a job as taxi-driver but said no too boring.
Then slowly I remembered something I had to
do late at night when I would rather read a book
as there was no TV back then.
I remember it as a sweaty embrace, the fumbling
and the ridiculous positions and then to be careful
pumping along till she was ready and at ease.
She wanted to sleep close to me her hair in my face
and I was thinking if lucky it will take a week before
I had to do something with her peculiar needs.
Copyright © jan oskar hansen
OUR CHRISTMAS CAROLERS
Come list my dear to Christmas, tis the sound
of childrens voices ringing soft and dear
it brings to mind that hope may still be found
within a world that lives in constant fear
oh what a change the world's been going through
since first we met one winters Christmas eve
and all I ever had, the gift of you
was all I ever needed to believe
that peace on earth would be all of our days
and now just hear these children sing along
perhaps we judge them harshly, in some ways
for don't they seem the picture of their song?
And as their sounds warm to the heart of me
I pray this is the way their world will be.
© Ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet
Copyright © Vee Bdosa
Elisa is very beautiful and young,
but her silly mind isn't that strong;
yesterday she marked age thirty
on her calendar not feeling gritty.
In a lively garden with blooming April flowers,
she blows big bubbles that float low and high
inducing much gladness much in her sigh...
will they clash with those intruding butterflies?
" No, they surely won't, "she whispers looking as far
as her eyes can see, imagining one that resembles a star
which she can look upon in her loneliness when moonlight
brightens her room and desire for kisses take away all fright.
Elisa watches her fragile bubbles burst at the sun's brightness,
but surprisingly one doesn't...soaring further into remoteness.
Written on 4/5/2015
Copyright © Andrew Crisci
Snowfall In April
The snowflakes that fell this morning were big
and descended slowly and with sadness they knew
that this was the wrong time of the year – April- and
the morning sun will melt then into oblivion and
water that would fill ditches already overflowing.
Ejected, the mother cloud was too heavy to get over
the mountain and a million snowdrops were scarified
so the cloud could sail to the tundra in Siberia.
One million volunteers, first there had been a pause,
but a few thousand walked forward others followed.
They got a blessing a white miniature cloud each and
a promise that one day they would be reborn as flurry
on the South Pole, a mass wedding of snowdrifts and
they would never be alone again
Copyright © jan oskar hansen
The day of The Dead.
The cemetery in Loule is on top of a hill, today
early spring the steep hillside is full of luscious
yellow flowers. Not like ripe lemons, more like
Swiss butter, from the rich milk of cows will bells
and horns; sturdy feet able to carry big, rose-pink
udders and be milked by smiling maidens with
strong arms creamy white as a Valkyrie’s bosom
What you didn’t see- all this life- when blinded
by the intensity of every sun lit flower came
from a rotting coffins, the few day in early spring
when the dead are let out, sway on a hillside and
soak up the sun.
Copyright © jan oskar hansen
There came a cloud like lady,
Down onto the sea,
Mistily clothed she came to me,
All about me I could see.
She told of things I wished to know,
Displaying things she wished to show,
She said of places we could go
And there we'd watch more clouds grow.
Twigs and rocks and shells we found,
Softly music drifted all around,
And flowering trees and plants abound
With fruits, and grass covering the ground.
A dream perhaps this may be,
I'll only have to wait and see.
Copyright © Wm Paul