Through weary eyes she greets the dawn,
The traces on her face of a night gone wrong.
To tend new life is no simple task,
And each sleepless night stacks upon the last.
She shall receive neither laurel nor laud
For the tears she’s shed and the trials she’s fought.
But no good thing is easily done,
Enduring with love is the weight of her endearing work beneath the sun.
And courage she carries in no small supply;
Each day she shoulders her calling, be it gentle or awry.
No monument will bear her form or name;
She'll receive no grand acclaim nor fame
Yet to one small life she stands above it all
A mother, a hero, deserving of every honor I can call.
pretentiously lame
altruistically tame
boringly aflame
creativity a shame
dull tanka ends much the same
Bite Size Poem no.37 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Line Gauthier
HMS 5/7/5/7/7
22/02/22
Held to expectation cast by citizens
Mirror assures return of gilded grins
Ballroom brag pats his back
Dancer has handshakes lubricated
Dignitaries' approval demonstrated
Slide through sludge of embellishing
Climbing supply sets steep trajectory
Chainmail armour can't crack
Schedule transferred into twenty four
Long clock pours hour numb typhoon
Two day growth rubs grey flat reflection
Ajar loss odds conjure slam of rejection
Glass heart arbiter fears attack
Campsite composed becomes complex
Company pivot competitively, sniff index
Windswept wolf is braced for coals' ignite
Empire pain laid relabeled, corporate heist
Exposed turgid slapped by lack
Asset confines his value crushed for cash
Worthless in combustion, a city collapsed
Identical colts interrupted
Bid for counterpart acclaim
Business fortune corrupts
consecutive boys verbatim
21st February
Tycoon's Forbode
I plan to discover more works of the great masters,
Like the rich green meadow find of bright red asters!
That is my New Year's resolution, a pledge to myself-
To enjoy and benefit from history's vast store of wealth;
And the glories of yesteryear lie waiting upon the shelf.
Someone is waiting, I hope not in vain
for you to greet them with words of acclaim.
They needn't be fancy or charming or grand,
just simple, honest, and easy to understand.
Identify something about them that radiates truth,
--dress, smile, posture, maybe their youth.
Cost to you, as you know, is not one thing,
and think of the joy to a life you will bring.
Eschew that which often makes us sardonic,
and know kindness to others is life's potent tonic.
A homeless man, as he wandered,
on ideas varied
he pondered, scribe on those
discarded bits of paper,
of the varied experience
life offered.
Of romance to delight
and murder, a fright
of the wrath of the dragon,
and tales,
that would enlighten.
An author
of immense fame
his works never lame
an arduous journey
until malady claimed
for then came fame
as he approached oblivion.
Of him sang the old man
daily as he sat
strumming his guitar
across the town square
© Nadiya (28 May 2015)
If you could see them
eagerly consuming your words
eyes so wide open
only to blink
when absolutely necessary.
They can't wait
to get to the end
only to want the beginning
to be there for them
all over again
though in a way
they have never yet seen.
It's time to write the next one!
Sheila Kathryn Barrera
http://www.myspace.com/sheila_kathryn_barrera
A million words I seek to praise,
To rave thy aged walls
That latch onto pictures of
Our youth,
A million words I seek to praise,
To rave thy rising suns and
Darkening skies all drawn
On your transoms,
A million words I seek to praise,
To rave thy solace and comfort
Grasping sleep upon thy
Feathery beds,
A million words I seek to praise,
To rave thy ardor and tenderness
Bestowed upon the
Treasure you hold,
A million words I seek to praise,
A million words all in daze…
“May God bless our home…”
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