.
save that
crimson 'pon
handprint
hern hiner
edvardz
Cut from copper tools
His blood washed me clean
Attacked at night by evil spirits
Trusting in Jesus always
You Lord Jesus lead the way
Love agape is the price you paid
Questions of robotic wars
Many die every day
Trust in Jesus to raise up his family
I am your son Jesus I kneel before you alone
Made by copper tools
Cut from his rock the rock of creation he is my dearest friend
Voices in the night can not scare me away from trusting in my creator Lord Jesus
Start
a quick writhe,
copper crescendo.
You just refuse to corrode.
Stack
energy on to talent,
classic conductor
fit to steal
space.
O greenish blue neighbour of mine
across my kitchen window, sunning in shine
perching very high on the doctor's house fig tree
resonating your tunk...tunk louder than metronomic glee
Saw you today, puffing your yellow throat,
the silk floss petals plucking with your hand glove
bobbing your red head and flicking bluish tail,
have you tracked a sincere mate?
have you picked a red berry or two for your consort,
hope allopreening is not building on snort?
what about fluttering your blue grey black wings side by side ?
start a "Beak Game" in a full stride?
Keep flight straight, with rapid flaps
Be away from that, extortionist Blue-throated barbet
avoid flying klepto red-vented songbird,
eyeing at your red berries and burd.
PS:A coppersmith (barbet) , very old next tree neighbour, annoying sometimes by her incessant calls ,many times reminds me that that is how a life goes on
Walking toward the fallen tree
Open skies give me sight
Blood red stones inside my shadow
Twisted bones of sand stone
Walls of snow break my heart
In the mountain I saw my god
Under dark stars I found rivers of gold
Saints of felled birds plant seeds of a true vine
Father of all wait beside the fig tree
They mourned You in future times
We drank from life giving water before and we will still do so
Save the ducks, dig the well
Ravens fly before I land
Blades of marrow cut into my side
Spears of bone and woolen cloak
Scars of light expand my deepest resurrection
I saw you but you hid your face from me
My friend, father, brother and light
Walk with me forever I pray you say you know me
I was born in 1793
I have a bronze sconce
For everyone to see
I get around the world scene
Much like Santa Claus
Much like Magdalene
Created in this image
I am also on the $5 bill
A Mt. Rushmorean visage
But now I must say goodbye
No more to be cast
No more to die
In each pocket that I tickle
No more keeping company
With a quarter, dime or a nickel
Because my worth is less than I cost
Read my epitaph
"A Penny For Your Thoughts"
Post Script:
In the death of me
A lonely one cent piece
Hold on tight to my memory
So don't let go of me in vain
Remember the Beatles
Remember Penny Lane
And I was hoping to relax
With this copper-toned beauty
That shored up sales tax
Stan the man always had a great plan,
'Til he got snockered while driving his van.
The coppers showed up,
Saw Stan had hit the cup,
And sent him off for a week in the can!
I am a copper beech tree
I’m the most beautiful tree of them all
I always change my dress with the seasons
I’ll wear bright green, then ochre and gold in fall
I love my spring dress of vivid emerald green
My gown changes colour in the cooler weather
when shades of orange, gold and red can be seen
I detest the biting winds which steal my gown,
as my naked limbs are exposed to the world
I get so embarrassed and I wear a frown!
The man was
handsome, intelligent,
and good in bed.
But he just
had nothing
to say.
And all of his days
were the same.
Monochromatic
introspection followed
by a sort of smothered
self-expression.
He never
felt like himself.
And he always felt
worried about what
other people thought
about him.
Who even was
he?
His routine?
His career?
His interests?
His beliefs?
Beliefs?
The man had
no beliefs, the
man didn’t need
to believe.
For if he started believing
in something, he may have
actually needed
to start existing.
And that idea
scared the
hell out of
him.
"Pennies are good luck. Take one with you everywhere you go." By Poet
Once in a tale of old,
a penny was worth one cent not gold.
A nickel was worth five pennies,
they say changes are coming Jenny.
With no more pennies of copper,
this will be a real money stopper.
Guess I need to now unearth,
the real story behind the nickel's worth.
Will the king of coins the nickel require a new birth?
Cobalt and copper from the Congo jungle
Light verdant ferns that were antifungal
Watusi tribe lost cobalt in a bungle
Thus, we all left the steamy Congo jungle
drained of emotion
idly-mouthed words
raised fists with no punch
meanings vacuous, blurred
carousels of zombies
stare through his soul
nor silver nor copper
winged horses of gold
Or somewhere
where we go
when the birds we hope are guiding us
Follow a path
that’s been created
with pure intentions
When the birds are calling,
find me following
where the water goes
It flows
like running words
through my mind
If only I could find a way
to make the words
mimic the birds
and fly away sometimes
I took a long look at him:
Body of user of Gym
Wants muscles, not to seen trim;
His Agnes might remain The Slim!
There a Tim trains, so does Kim;
Then, why can't he Mister Jim?
Yeah! About time Jim went to Gym
Or Gym does reverse for Jim.
While training follows his whim:
No Rock Music: sings God's Hymn,
Glass of juice filled to the brim,
Eyeglass with Coppery rim...
But Jim for Gold not Copper
His choice of bike A Chopper...
"Tomorrow, another Gym
Remember that Jim."
Copper elf found a coin
Matching the pot in his mother’s kitchen
All shiny against his limb and loin
He said “I think I’m getting rich’n”.
It is like a pretty penny his child said.
Yes, and it was such a marvelous surprise!
It has a shine that reminds me of your daddy’s head
A bald-headed elf who would have rolled his eyes
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