Cusp Poems - Poems about Cusp

On the Cusp of Facing Up

There's a faint light beaming up through the cracks
in everything that has the answers.
I stand on the edge peering in,
facing up to the risk of failing, falling in,
on the cusp of not looking away.

No thunder rolls, no curtain calls,
for the silence between 
breaths, blinks, and heartbeats 
holds the final bluff and dare,
as toes reach over

Like Airborne Angels, At The Cusp Of Night

Morning thoughts of you roses full of dew 
gardens full of summer love, sweet romance  
here inside your arms we rebirth brand-new 
like the morning sun when it starts to dance 

Aborning sunlight cortef hours .... loved,   
like the pied colors of a rainbow burst.    
glancing tinted shades two

At The Cusp

At the cusp
Of a wave, a change, a fall
Into total darkness

Here we stand 
Or rather slide
Headfirst into destruction 

And as we fall
Into chaos and dissolution 
We will at last be saved

And in that moment 
What we took for granted
Will be lost

Within the total chaos
Law and order will be established
And with it the end of freedom

On the cusp of becoming

Every so often, my mind wanders back to the summer of my youth, where a specific memory awaits. 

Having completed my first year at University, I’ve come home. My younger brother John, fifteen, seems all grown up, so different. He’s gotten taller but it’s more than that. 

I'm surprised when he offers me a tour

Cusp

Let me hear you let me see you
There is no echo, only existence
The brave presentation of everything it is
A swirling mystery I cannot grasp

Let me hold you.
Let me hold you.
But it simply is

Let me cup the clouds
See how you flow around me
How you flow around what is put into you
I listen to what your dance

On the Cusp

on the cusp

poised precarious, point perched,
lies threshold brink verge,
the tipping-point pivot to,
rise/fall from grace.

On the Cusp of Change

He teetered on the cusp of change, 
Wanting to make each moment last ~
This flying of time seemed so strange, 
He teetered on the cusp of change ~
What would he not do to exchange
his life for harmless childhood past! 
He teetered on the cusp of change, 
Wanting to make each moment last. 

On the Cusp

All our lives we’re on the cusp 
When entering a phase,
From infancy to toddlerhood
And on, all through our days.

We go to school and then we’re on
The cusp of a career.
We date and fall in love; the cusp 
Of family life draws near.

We reach the cusp of middle age 
And possibly success,
Along with all the highs

On the Cusp of Job

His sons used to take turns holding feasts in their homes…when a period of feasting had run its course, Job would send and have them purified. Early in the morning he would sacrifice a burnt offering for each of them, thinking, “Perhaps my children have sinned and cursed God in their hearts.”  

 Job

At Cusp of Dawn

Mystical Moon, languidly adrift in pallid glory,
is holding night court, clad in gold silk sarong.
Ruling her astral kingdom, amusing with a story
about a cow and a spoon; singing a lyrical song.

"Wondrous Moon," said I, "lamp unto this night,
may your lustrous path stay vigilant and not stray."
In comply,  I saw strung on high, myriads of

On the Cusp of Destiny

An overachieving college student
                with lofty ambitions.

         Her education is finally over,
   a completion of a complicated puzzle.

        A summa cum laude graduate
with

The Cusp

The prelude to a wish,
  all time conspired

Eternity on call
 —the night on fire

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)

On the Cusp of a Dream

I waiver on the cusp of a dream
while through a keyhole I envision
a gathering of cherubic flowers
perfect faces as innocent as creation.

Pure, guileless faces of all colors and races
earnestly plead with tears in their eyes
"save us!” they softly whisper in unison
then fading to black, I can hear their sad cries.

With a gasp I awaken as

Just Shy O the Concupiscent Cusp

As par and parcel of being
    alive wire impossible aye
to maintain totally tubularly
     literarily celibate by and bye
with parochial restraint antiseptic dry
as dust poetic refrains
     asper this healthy older guy
devoid of physical whim zee

     unlike a inscrutable eunuch...so hi
there dear

On the Cusp of Alberto

ON THE CUSP OF ALBERTO

gray moon’s glazed over
beautiful rain dance of clouds
— umbrella is closed

5/28/2018

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