Looking out my bay-window,
I am feeling the new day and seeing colors of indigo.
The pretty indigo sky with big white fluffy clouds,
turning ominous and into dark thunderclouds.
My neighbors pretty garden of indigo flowers,
are getting a drink and much needed showers.
Domestic Bliss Is Feeling,
the love from living out doors is healing.
Domestic Bliss Is Seeing,
out my bay-window because it is freeing.
Deep frozen snow, temps in the teens-
it breaks our hearts to see them try
and gather food by any means;
to stay alive neath winter's sky.
The deer out there seem so forlorn.
So many trails, no green in sight.
Sometimes an evergreen, not worn,
will help to soothe their appetite.
Neath bird feeders, their heads to ground,
they munch on fallen crumbs or seeds.
So happy for those treasures found
as snowstorms fail to meet their needs.
We've come to spread bread on the snow.
At our bay window, neath moonlight,
they look at us, as if they know-
we spared their hunger that cold night.
Pressure, pressure
Why can’t they leave him alone
Today the bay window
Demonstrates a panorama of beauty
He longs to go there
Taste the salt sea
To sail away from all this
Back to Jamaica
To places he had been when young
When laughing in the rain
When there was a now
The future too far away to contemplate
Clouds are gathering
There will be rain in the afternoon
The bay window
Has tearstains from
Too many yesterdays
in the late night hours
i like to take things slow
i sip a glass of chardonnay
merlot or pinot grigio
through my bay window
i'm watching the fall of snow
i sit back and relax
setting the lights down low
with pen in hand
i just let the words flow
AP: 2nd place 2025
The rain that had been falling all morning had dissipated
but dark clouds still covered the sky.
For some unknown reason she glanced at the clock
and noted the time
Simultaneously the clouds parted
and the sun streamed in through the large bay window
Filling the room with light and warmth
It only lasted a few minutes then the sky clouded over again
An hour or so later the phone rang,
“Great news.” Said her daughter, “you have a great grandson.”
“He was born at 1:26 pm precisely”
1:26 pm precisely,
when the sun had streamed into her room.
He brought with him sunshine, that boy.
as his twenty two years have proven.
Portal to the outside world
Two bird feeders hang
in plainview of bay window
all I need are birds
In The Forest Are Cottages
Is a cottage built
A two story home
With a Bay window
It has a stone front
then layered with bricks
Their entrance door red
The garage door same
In the forest seen
Trees around the home
Is cleared to bring light
Some flowers growing
In front of the house
Two bushes and pond
For the birds to use
With their little ones
A family lives
In this house
Deep in the forest
A mile away
Their neighbour lives near
Deep into the woods
Why they chose this life
No one knows
. 11/21/2023
Lord, please do, let us have a kindly dream, of a peaceful holiday.
To realize the value of poets that we know,and also.unknown.
We refuse faces of negativity, to humbly walk in your ways.
Please remind us, please, to go to the light,where thy glory be fully shown.
I realize that not all of us have a family to sit down and have a dinner with.
So poets, light your candles to make this confused world, radiantly bright.
After dinner, go to the draped, frosted, family, front bay window, or forthwith….
God will have created a soft, Thanksgiving, snowcarpet of pure white!.
From~Pangie and Elena
As I sit in my rocking chair,
I must have fallen asleep.
My bay window shows effects
of the dark night, thick black clouds,
no moon to shimmer over the far sea.
Occasionally flashes of lightning
lit the panorama in front of me.
I was confused wondering
if I was dreaming. For truly
outside was a storm brewing.
Suddenly rain fell, hitting the panes
of my lovely bay window.
I love the rhythm of the falling rain.
Behind me, the fire crackled
Sending its heat to warm me.
No this was not a dream as I heard
The sound of footsteps coming
Up the stairs. My wife was late.
Some emergency at the hospital no doubt.
She bent low and kissed my forehead.
I realized she was drenched in the rain.
I urged her to have a hot shower.
"Only if you wash my back," she laughed.
I needed no second invitation.
And let me assure you, my friends.
This was not a dream.
Fiction
Tossing on my rocking chair,
In pitch sable dark of the night,
Where no stars shimmer in the sky,
Waiting for the early morning light.
The bay window is clean, with a wide scene.
Would the day reveal a land with woods so green?
Occasionally the moon penetrates
The heavy rainy murky clouds,
As moonbeams glimmer over oceans.
Happy the dead dispersed of crowds,
For behind lay a cemetery full of snow,
The North wind will never stop its blow.
I was left alone in the spectral scene.
Alas lonely and abandoned by all;
Or do I see a faint silhouette on a moonbeam
Gliding onwards toward Autumn and Fall?
Ah I cannot see the golden leaves fall gently,
Now I’m in winter with nothing to protect me.
It's good to hear the geese going places
I wait for the last honk
and return to the keyboard.
Occasionally the earth and sky gets symphonic,
each sound-stream orchestrated
to build upon other sonics.
The bay window has large ears
it wide-views, it listens panoramically.
An audience behind my eyes
tries to follow all the rhythmic tones.
Sometimes my black Labrador
will roll his eyes my way
and then I know I am whistling
the same tune he is listening to.
Lightning strikes colossal oak, bronze armor split like firewood by God’s electric axe, soft pithy interior exposed in winter air.
Walking through the meadow, knee high grass quivering under the wind’s judgmental eye; grouse fly disjointedly into the coral sunset as I wade through the verdant ocean.
A warm clap on the back as you walk through the door into the familiar living room, dust dancing in the golden sunlight pouring through a bay window.
The gait of a man recently in love, thinking of soft hands suddenly adored, folding fresh linen as static electricity crackles in the dry, lavender air.
Her slow walk down velvet stairs, patiently descended with lithe, slow steps draped in mystery and blood-red silk.
It’s the feeling of walking into an underground gambling den, uninvited and alone.
With his droopy eyes; still
Saddened...by the unknown
I see in his face...loneliness
When I left him, confusion over-load
Nor did he ever know,
Would I ever return
I could still hear him as I waved driving away
I could still see his wandering eyes through the bay window
He was ever so happy
When finally...
I returned
Home
Our best friends never know if when we leave...when and if we would ever return. Dogs sense when we part for a few days, on vacation, work duty...or some other reason. But when we come home...it's pure joy and happiness for them...and likewise
She opened the bay window to better see the swans
They encouraged tranquility; inspiring peace and love.
The neighbor’s garden is gorgeous in April.
She took off her reading glasses to get a better look.
The sky is perfect today, a marvelous color of blue.
There is a purity in the air, an indescribable ambiance.
She leaves her coffee for a few minutes
To find her camera, hoping to capture this tranquility.
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