Serene spread of cerulean sea
calmly cradles an emerged island,
girdled by slim silver garland.
Trees scaling cloudy cobalt sky,
complete picture of pristine isolation.
#3
I could wrap you
In secret
And cling
Like double-sided
Just to keep
Your gift
From prying eyes
But I have
No label
A name, perhaps
But no concept
No complete picture
For the pieces
Of you
Labels
Are for things.
Boundaries.
Pigeon holes.
For just a
Moment
In the journey
We remove them
On arrival
Or when they are
Dog-eared
Or when they are wrong
Or at least
We should
I don't want
To label
You.
Me.
Or
Anyone
Unless
That label..
Reads as follows:
"Seen"
"Found"
"Friend"
"Unique"
"BeLoved"
"Beautiful"
"Accepted"
"Treasured"
"Marvellous"
"Just perfect"
"No changes required"
"If lost, please return home"
Your fabrications are all that ring true;
You do what you do holding a motive;
That bawdy neon sign reads ‘Ballyhoo’.
Why am I attracted to corrosive?
Patchwork display of broken art you drew,
complete picture is the gift that I give;
I can’t do artificially flavored
unable to stomach empty handed.
Is awful simply animal that is awful
Or is it something besides its looks not casual?
Something that will dazzle
Within the soul of this devil
Looking like large griffin with serpent tail
And huge claws that can impale
Like a beast from horror tale
Complete picture grey wings would in tale
The awe inspiring tales about the beast there is no lack
One man when he so it he had a heart attack
Awful devoured crows it would attack
One man saw it circling his shack
But maybe that is not all
Maybe it is a supernatural being after all
That what would really put terror in man’s soul
Is that not from Earth but shadow expanse he would fall?
It’s another red-letter day
a holiday in the U.S.
a national, religious holiday
known also as a ‘Turkey Day’
a very important day.
A chance to be reconnected,
a moment of being together,
a salutary occasion for gratitude,
full with family folderol.
There are historic reasons
this American celebration
has its origin centuries ago;
as the Pilgrims did it and -
invited neighboring Indian tribes.
To hold it with a feast –
A celebration for God’s blessing.
giving thanks for a common purpose,
freedom, justice, and worship in God.
Through Sarah Josepha Hale
this event has become a tradition
a realization that came to fulfillment
marked with significance, thus far.
With church services elsewhere
wth family reunions all over
with customary turkey dinner
oh, a reminder of the historic past:
at the Pilgrims’ big celebration.
In many homes and families
Table fellowships spice up the day
with turkey, mashed potatoes,
cranberry sauce, maize, pumpkin pie
and other vegetables and desserts.
a complete picture of this great tradition.
Apprehensions in thoughts may form a labyrinth,
and like a cipher open up to become a plinth
but still the belief beholds to achieve what is imagined,
Though in a fog,the wanderer still feels attuned,
Let it be light or the approaching darkness,
but it isn't a mirage showing its absentness...
The people who waded along aren't lost,
As they too were finding a purpose, when their paths had just crossed
So continue the walk to paint the complete picture,
As like the dreams, the clay of life would build a monumental structure.
Within me there is greatness
held back by popular opinion
limitations have been formed to bury me
This life is full so scorn
so much waiting and wishing
decisions are not my own
Chains have been placed upon me
placing blinders upon eyes
the complete picture is not clear
Dreams are present
reality feels like bonds
truth has imprisoned me
while lies have hid the key
Eternal struggles lived
each day they become anew
it leaves one to wonder
how low is low
I couldn't come to visit you,
After we followed up behind you,
And the four men carrying;
They really had no right to.
Some difficult path that was, wasn't it,
Putting you into box, then leaving you,
Lowered under turf?
I thought my gaunt expression then,
Would sink like turf should. Put away,
Forget; the buried soil, the rot.
And yet, it still catches me occasionally,
When I think of the last complete picture
Before this. I cannot go back
At you sticking up, erect; refusing death.
I will think some allusive thought,
That you are up and about walking
The mass of graves late at night,
Refusing to sink.
How do I handle your still fresh grave
And settle you to sleep in my heart?
I cannot bare coming back with you
Running rampant through my veins.
There is no relief in putting your face
Away in boxes where I do not cease to see
You reminding me constant,
As every beat, you add a murmur too.
When I have trouble finding your mark,
Your precise spot, I will visit again
Your plot that set you out from every stone,
Is ground, just land that settles down
And makes it right.
Everyone the same, today, and
Tomorrow's light.
Love
Gracious savior
Preserving my soul
Such comfort
Resurrection
Saving grace
His love for us
Comments: The Septolet poem has seven lines with a total of fourteen words. It
has two parts with a break between each part. The same thought and picture is
portrayed in both parts for a complete picture. This Septolet is about His saving
grave and love for us.
Run!
My son,
The long race.
Be encouraged!
And be strong.
Not swift,
Go!
Comments: The Septolet poem has seven lines with a total of fourteen words. It
has two parts with a break between each part. This one has a syllable count
pattern of 1,2,3,4,3,2,1. The same thought and picture is portrayed in both parts
for a complete picture. This Septolet is about enduring to the end.