You came with quiet courage,
In the soft bloom of May,
Eyes like ocean mornings,
And waves that softly pray.
Named for one who held the world,
But born to chase the skies,
A gift from your mother’s heart
You’ll learn the art of rise.
Inside of you, an echo,
Of your father’s silent might,
To cradle every passing storm,
And carry it to light.
There’s patience in your presence,
Like rivers in no rush,
Moving through the world with grace,
In a quiet but certain hush.
Your brothers lit the lanterns.
That glow along your way,
Their laughter keeps you tethered.
When night forgets the day.
So grow with grace and wonder,
Let laughter find your name.
For love is in your making,
And purpose in your frame.
Whatever you've heard about the earth,
know that it has tremendous girth.
You cannot collapse or fold it,
and poor Atlas has to hold it.
Admirable
Tough
Lots of energy
Abrasive
Sunset
Trusting
Hardworking
Original
Mature-ish
Accommodating
Sociable
Balanced
Ultimate edition
Candid
Healthy
Abundant
Non-nonchalant
Agile
Neighborly
the yoke we bear in time is space, the domain in which we view,
all that's done comes back again, because we chose it to.
when we look even deeper then, again we look some more,
what we thought the weight of the world is really its only door ...
The weight of the world
Sits squarely on your shoulders
Lay your burden down
Italy says she needed my arms around her,
from bed to kitchen, she persuades me with
her oven-warm hands.
France leaned from a door in the Montmartre,
she wolf whistles,
she likes my Ringo Mexican mustache,
I tell her I am John, and she frowns.
Germany become a friend of my enemy,
we had to do it at least once a day -
in public.
At night we whispered head-to-head
discussing her feelings.
China made me Jasmine tea,
she sat by my side as I wept.
"There, there," She said,
I could tell the Great Wall
was listening,
and later that night
it crumbled away.
I realise just how old I am, when I don't even know how facebook works,
And I don't have any idea how someone twirks.
I read maps from an atlas book,
I don't like google and the way it looks.
I like to have cash, I like the way it feels,
But I guess it does make it easier to steal.
I want a theatre ticket that can be held and be seen,
Instead of showing it on your mobile screen.
But as life goes on and time passes by,
I guess just to keep up I will have to try.
My deepest fear and loneliness
Loving someone else
I am reading atlas
Our unforgettable past
People walking on the pavement
I feel the very sad moment
The sun is crying
Our indelible ending
Walking on the side of the river
In my heart, I will love you forever
I pick several pebbles
Selling lots of red apples
I want to be alone in life
Playing music with a fife
Our tragic love story
I'm writing a diary
The birds are flying
The trees are swaying
On the bench, I'm sitting
In love, I'm quitting
Staring at the whole sky
Remembering your promise
Your beautiful eyes
My dear Thomas
her spine that musical instrument
I strummed plucking sounds chords and tones
in axis, the toothed vertebra
she turned her head saying she knew
everything I know she didn't know
about heathen nights and their shifting moons
or all jesus christs in christianity but it's a lie
as I climbed my fingers now in atlas
carefully completing the bone contour
even in her eye there was a grimace
the rain started at that unexpected time
hence the absurd and sudden silence of the dogs
before scared of the moonlight.
I have walked these medullary paths for centuries
watching a vertebrate world under warm skin
the panting breath of one who will love
and on the outside the metamorphosis that makes us replicate
honeyed songs and languid concepts of what's sensual
because the touch that compresses the column
squeezes and grabs the body planet by the spine
allows me to foresee the rheumatic pain of tomorrow
the thorny gorges we'll walk through in trauma
sneaking us away from the blatant truths
that no one really wants to know.
Outside my window
endless lifetimes to explore,
adventure's atlas.
Fall-summer-winter-Spring; C ya O2 out of breath-battle of Titans.
spin the globe reverse – trap and throw the imp corona in death valley
If I Am A Super Heroine-Hero Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: JCB Burl
Date: 28/8/2020
Winner : 1st place
Take an atlas; open it,
Take my hand and point with it.
You’ve saved your trips to share with me
So take my hand; we’ll cross the sea.
Upside Down World -Miss Snowy Atlas
Snowy Atlas says do your exercise
Feet over head, eyes to the skies
Men why the pain look
You're like fish on a hook
Miss Snowy Atlas is off today, guys
connie pachecho
12/27/17
Non contest entry
Note-Charles Atlas best remembered
as a renowned fitness instructor
"we're wasting our youth
with sins who are older than us.
we don't talk anymore,
we're to busy standing in rain,
waiting for hurricanes.
there is not just one
who is holding up the heavens.
over years youth been burdened,
we've been born with bad luck.
we walk through this
because the weight on our shoulders will be heavy anyway.
if you can hold up the heavens,
hell will be a child's play."
08.08.17
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