A winsome weave, simple and real,
Warp and weft; a tight twill,
A weaverbird’s nest, strong and snug,
With soft crossways and tumphy tug.
Subtle cozy patterns, seldom revealed,
Cynical twists like waves unsealed,
The mirror of peafowl’s courtship field.
Matchless display by the peacock,
Dance elevated by love, rattle of feathers in rhythmic clock,
Enticing and dazing the hens, with a silent poise,
All while rivals raise their voice.
Waking incredible train rattle, a sharper dance,
Initial plumage grandeur, a healthier glance,
Peahens’ basics caught in a stance.
Beautifully woven, a rhythmic tapestry,
Wales ranged in a rolling plain spree,
Richly captivating...lines of love,
Crowned with bliss by the brave thereof.
Categories:
crossways, beautiful, beauty, environment, extended
Form: Rhyme
They came together, love entwined,
When stars in heaven were aligned.
But their love hit a hurdle,
When their vinaigrette failed to curdle,
Their blitz emulsification ill-fated,
leaving oil and vinegar separated.
They crossed their fingers together,
Looked up at the sky, to see whether
The stars had crossed to unsupportive.
Sure enough, the stars were abortive.
So they went their separate ways.
Pledging to try again on better days,
When double-crossing stars crossways
Had unclasped to an uncrossed phase,
And they could dump their mayonnaise.
Categories:
crossways, angst, crush, lost, lost
Form: Rhyme
Most often, I would affectionately ponder and recall how magical times were
in our farmhouse— daisies, herbs, and even pebbles glossed by the amber of sunlight, while Grandma would ramble about compassion or patience in times when difficulties seemed to overwhelm my very instinct ;
her fingers curling through my youthful thumbs: yet at 21, the rebel in me defied all stories on kindness, her croons entering the anvil then out the other ear, to whiff away in autumn’s breeze...As years rolled on, Grams’ promptings built my will-- buttressed my days, my adult days through crossways of doubt.
Relishing how gentle her laughter was, our moments together make it harder now in spaces of my heart as I lay daisies on her crypt. I know, I know... I weep.
9/29/2018
For Silent One: Lines Of Ten That Remind You What It Was Like Back Then Contest
Categories:
crossways, farm, grandmother, remember,
Form: Narrative
Does wisdom not call meanwhile?
Does discernment not lift up her voice?
On the hilltop on the road,
On the crossways she takes her stand;
Beside the gates of the city,
At the approaches to the gates she cries aloud,
O men! I am calling to you;
My cry goes out to the sons of men;
You ignorant ones! Study discretion
And you fools, come to your senses!
Listen! I have serious things to tell you,
Rom my lips come honest words
My mouth proclaims the truth
Wickedness is hateful to my lips.
All the words I say are right
Nothing wasted in them, nothing false
All straightforward to whom who understands
Honest to those who knows what knowledge means.
Accept my discipline rather than silver
Knowledge in preference to pure gold.
For wisdom is more precious than pearls,
And nothing else is so worthy of desire.
05092015
Categories:
crossways, beauty, bible, christian, faith,
Form: Personification