Hanging almost angelically.
Praying for a breeze at the perfect pace.
Too soft, and it risks being exposed for being too fragile.
Too hard, and it risks being labelled too harsh and too cold.
The wind chime is singing so softly today.
It has mastered the art of veiling grief.
A bird on the blue bush tilting a beak is listening closely.
A brief reprieve from its nest of ever-hungry beaks.
Here comes that hurricane again, tangling the wood and strings.
Whisking sanity away. Strays gather in clusters of desperation,
Where children are told not to play, they rarely listen.
Then comes that prolonged lull.
Jagged thoughts gather themselves in spectacular futility.
The stillness is framed in a rugged mud,
An endless procession of pallbearers' deep gray.
Cherubs are trained to wade into hopelessness,
At the risk of getting graffitied. They always listen.
Then bumble home with wings sprayed in blood and a harsh lesson.
Yesterday everybody quietly slipped away.
Searching for a fresh melody of optimism.
Nobody fancies being swallowed up by the gray.
Nothing is salvaged from a wind chime after a hurricane
Angelically controlled power
quiet, fading
Eternal life
lacking references -
Hypothetically obscurity
Endangered vulnerable hearts
- triumph yet to come
truths we cannot scorn
Sing a new song the divineness
of it all the rapture of the coming
hour the sheer need for abundance
created so bountiful throughout
this wondrous beauty a subtleness
awakening mere virtue while the
mild mannerism moves in delightful
colorful hues dancing between glorious
stain glass windows while weeping
willow trees sway cardinals perch
as the eagle soars the sky a wonderful
hymn springs forth beckoning my soul
as fear anxiety sadness sorrow drowns
my soul sings loudly over the mountaintop
I hardly recognizes her today assumption
the beauty within shines as warmth
compassion kindness blossom's in the
hearts and minds of on lookers flowers
bloom as I stroll pass wisdom shakes
emptiness is mortified by my edification
a proud peacock absorbs my purity
I am angelically lifted by harmonic
melodies vibrantly shaking my tail
feather simply singing my new song
Witten by Mrs Yolanda Joy Nicholsen
Father said I was two and a half to three. I'm not sure.
A serious illness, he said, which no doctor could cure.
Glance at your mom last time, dad seemed to have said, full of tears.
I was in my childish unconsciousness. I had no fears.
I did not cry. I didn't know the grim games of death, then.
It's call of the unknown. Unknowingly, I said, Amen.
A glimpse of your grave and coffin clings to my being still.
Could snatching a mother from a child be the divine will?
Though it's not very long, long enough, by you, I was fed.
Embracing you, I slept angelically on your bed.
You taught me the sign of the cross and thoughts of holiness.
How much I miss your gestures of tender motherliness!
I don't complain now. I rain my love on you like flowers.
Seated in heaven, you shower on me divine powers.
I feel you holding my hand and leading me as I walk.
Each morning, as with God, with you, I never fail to talk.
Since Amazon has almost everything,
I placed several orders for Peace on Earth.
I hoped the shipments would arrive in time for Christmas.
I even paid extra for overnight delivery to Gaza and Ukraine.
But, alas, angelically voiced Alexa announced
that promised Peace on Earth was out of stock.
Easy earthly peace is elusive,
found in nobody’s shopping cart.
We'll need to work together
to deliver peace ourselves.
The mighty wind, snaps the twig
of a delicate branch
Drops to ground gently,
as if flying down angelically
To firm grass, with no sound
As a passerby's feet snap it in half,
again
I swear my world was frozen
When my confidence was stolen.
I swear My vocal pipes were broken
While my purpose was offloading,
And painful it was,
that I was just watching
When everything was fading
But I did nothing.
Course I felt powerless.
But a second chance life gave me
And I used it.
I used situations as a motivation,
For restoration.
Flashbacks!!!
When the storm hit my garden,
When running to my darkest room has been an option
Locking the door and thinking the worst,
That was depression.
But Positivity over ruled fortunately,
And in the midst you appeared fortunately,
And your story changed mine
And I know mine changed yours.
You came in Acoustically and not abysmally
You appeared angelically and not dramatically,
And basically, you are the one
Who pragmatically gave my life a hymn
And I feel, that is why my soul
Is literally linked to yours.
Where dry walls turn to dust
they depart.
They enter as laughter.
They roost on struts and beams.
Rafters for each shinning feather
whether or not each feather is stiff or curly.
Flooring for the angelically inclined
is optional. Pin heads are perfect.
A house without an angel is a tomb
but be of good cheer,
they are everywhere, even in the bathroom
where they often rest with you.
Domestic housing only,
public and federal buildings
will never be up to their code
no matter how architecturally pleasing
for angels need a welcome mat
and a pleasant kitchen,
a roof that lets the pain run down
as rain to water garden seeds.
What else?
Their are tent angels and shanty angels,
homeless and under bridge angels.
Angels are houses for prayers,
In the Far East
folks erect Spirit Houses;
little shrines for holiness to occupy
same thing really,
a flight of stairs
for the starry-eyed helps,
but ranch and open-plan
span just as well
if each body within them
is a ringing temple bell.
Waterfall stops and stalls
Anxiety, depression,
Sequenced chords brought towards
Inner peace progression.
Beats slowing down my pace
To a natural ambience,
Feeling light with second sight
Floating up to space.
Oh how I fly to fortify
The physical existence,
Resting and investing
Balancing consistence.
Holding strong for natures song
Spirit weaves the way,
Am free to come here any time
It’s in my DNA.
Wonderful this life sure is
Magnificently special,
With music in our souls to move
Angelically gentle.
Oh what a dream…
None can blame us
Innocence wishing
If I were famous…
Spinning in circles for all to see
Hearing the audience cheering for me
Running, jumping and striking a pose
For I am famous and everyone knows.
The best performance they clap and woo
Beautiful ballerina in a pretty tutu
Angelically delicately bending my knee
Ending the dance of young and free…
If I were famous…
Through silver hair
Laughing lines now declare
Experience with my own story
Ownership of my own glory…
Falling in the dream capacious
Once again bring to greatness
Strength, grace and all courageous
Dance again for I am famous.
Then, no storm nor shower,
Can even touch you or make
you sour.
Sure, people can turn their backs
on you.
But you say a prayer and forgive
them~it is the kindest thing to do
and the winner in this, is perfect you.
Oh, how the sun rises for you when
you awaken,
To realize to eternity one day you
will be angelically taken.
Do appreciate how little or how much
on this earth you have.
All of it came from God, our Father, and
is your spiritual salve.
For those in trying circumstances and in
physical or mental pain.
Be grateful for His loving, kind, everlasting
reign.
Your ability to write poetry, to eat, walk, see
and talk...just think for a moment if all these
were taken?
Even then, God's peace, will never leave you
forsaken
You, poet,are God's precious star.
You are forever His poet of the day, no matter
where you are!
September 27, 2020
8:30am PST
Twas a lovely day in May.
A red-haired Grandmother, with her daughter and
grandchild strolled the soft, still grass.
Under a large pine tree, she unwrapped a beautiful pot of flowers.
In the center~ a flag waved softly in the gentle, Midwest winds.
They proceeded to a marble headstone with a gentle walk.
Not one of them had the need to talk.
Kneeling at the headstone~ she placed her head upon it.
Telling her husband, his family was all here for a visit.
Assuring him that they missed and loved him.
She then spoke....angelically:
" Brian, thank you for keeping our country so wonderfully free!
But alas at breakfast now, it's only me!
Brian, my Airman and eagle of my soul.
I miss your dark eyes that sparkled like anthracite coal."
She kissed the headstone as if herway to say,
She would be back soon~another day!
May 30, 2020
7:30am PST
Poem# 1,306
Agape Hill
When the silvery moon drips Ouzo,
And our chilled glasses are angelically full.
May I ever wanton be~and hope our desires,
forever to fulfill!
My red, long, hair ~ flowing with gleaming
golden-hues,
A star-filled sky above us,your smile so
adoringly bemused.
We collapse happily, high on our hill.
Be star-still this night, lost in each others
twinkling eyes.
Lovingly quiet and oh, so very still.
Shhh...
Hush...
Promise to tell no soul of our secrets.
High on love on Agape Hill!
May 29, 2020
Noon PST
Poem # 1,299
Separation.
Alone..
Only one..
A lightning bolt of loneliness strikes..
Fast and furious..
Spewing unwanted feelings..
A terrain of anxiety..
Baggage of emotions..
Locked inside a bottle..
Entrapment of the soul..
Desperately seeking to feed the soul with love..
To..
Allow the pure essence of the soul to sing..
A graceful soul to dance to freedom..
Free itself with a helping hand..
A beautiful hand to lead misery behind..
A beautiful hand to help unlock the bottle..
Inside a bottle where there lies emptiness..
An anguished soul awaits a destiny of freedom filled with love..
With arms stretched..
A gentle embrace..
A soothing touch..
The divine soul receives the beautiful hand..
Held together tightly..
Bonded together for infinity..
The pure essence of the soul now sings angelically in soprano..
A graceful dance of peace and harmony..
Separation gone..
Joined together..
In Unity..
Unity is all..
We are not alone..
We are all one..
A Blessed Baby's Breath
Raindrops cry, moon-silvered night
Your most heavenly breath
Whispers ever so angelically...life!
On my joyous chest.
Panagiota Romios
4/23/2019
1:35pm PST
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