Depositing Poems

Because He Loves You

I saw your lips moving ever so infrequently.
There was silence; yet I heard you.
I also beheld your eyes. They were open
wide, wisely listening to every word.

I could feel the sponges of your heart
absorbing every drop of insightful wisdom
that fell from the lips of your elders.
You were silent; yet I felt you.

Your visit was in no way coincidental,
nor was it a happenstance experience.
It was a divinely orchestrated affair.
There was that echo of your presence.
Although silent, yet I heard volumes.


Over the years, you will reach back 
and draw from the treasury that God
placed, depositing it for your young lives.

The seeds that were planted in those
precious and fleeting hours are being
rooted in your heart and soul.  In time,
like waves rushing to the shores, your
voice will then be heard by a hurting world.

Those seeds are designed to produce
a wealth of nourishment to assist in the
navigation to your destiny. It just a part
of God's plan to aid you in your journey.
It's all because He loves you.

Renewal of Faith

       Renewal of faith at dawn
         Despair as day dwindles to dusk

       Ascension with the rise of the moon ~
         Depositing my soul with the Almighty soon

God Is Good

Goodness doesn't always inspire,
Or worth too much in the world's desire
Despite its benevolent attire.

Its value is stored as treasure, 
Stacked up like gold per heaven's measure.

Goodness is for you to spend
On earth, like a gardener tends
Overflowing vines and flowers,
Depositing seed for God's eternal bowers.

Settling

The headline read: “Low deposits and fair repayments!”
The offer of a lifetime, the promise of a lifeline for you and those you love.
But “deposits” aren’t just in money when we’re low in depositing care,
“repayments” still reek of capitalism when many don’t see their “fair” share.
The advertisement seared in bold font and burning lettering,
reminding us to always want more – there’s nothing worse than settling.

Nod To Greed

His was a lifetime 
spent grabbing
	storing
	stashing
	garnering
	stealing
	collecting
	depositing
	amassing...
try-try-trying  to fill  
his soul hole   carved deep
   from a youth
   from a poverty
of having nothing.

But all was but a sinkhole
each stash
   more greedy-desperate
and heavier
   than the last.

In the end
   all was as nothing 
An aggradation,
   too heavy 
for the man
to carry forward,

Sinking down with him
   now buried
   and forgotten.

‘Tis said,
A man is remembered
   for what he gives,
Not for what he takes.

Felt

"Felt" 


some people 
have magic 
in their bones
it speaks 
another language
silencing the 
Kurdaitcha Man
seen pointing
unnecessarily
without conviction

time is ours
in this endless place
we circle rings
rippling our marks 
deep within trees 
depositing stories
they breathe
us in 
we breathe
them out

gifting 
their leaves 
we fall softly
crumpling
under others’ feet

the stories
conveyed 
and transferred
replenish and feed 
the microcosm

to become
something 
much larger

some people
have magic 
in their bones
it speaks 
another language

it is felt
not seen
falling softly inside
we become lighter
rising like myths

(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)

Ocean Walk

under a delightful moon
      air silvermist due to drizzling rain
  a pale patina rode wavetops
              of the mystic sea

creamy waters washed across my feet
depositing opaline conchs, whelk egg cases
    and bits of purple fan coral
  oceanic generosity
          fueled my thankfulness
      as the horizon's apricot blush
                  announced sunrise

For Granted

The wind rushes by me
Teasing in its’ pass
Sometimes caressing
Sometimes bold and crass

Then, moving onward
It hugs a maple tree
Some leaves of brilliant hue
Are tumbled and set free

It moves across a field
A wind-wave there is seen
It kisses blades of grass it finds
And all that’s in between

Dandelion parachute seeds
Ride its’ hidden tides
Depositing them here and there
New life therein resides

And I? I stand in wonder
And watch the scene unfold
Knowing I’ll not comprehend
What through my eyes I’m told

I’ve taken it for granted,
The Wind, its’ master plan
Proving, once again, 
The insignificance of man.

Debit Or Credit

Debit 
Liable, obligatory 
Owing, paying, pledging 
Indebtedness, deficit, salary, bonuses
Receiving, banking, depositing 
Affluent, prosperous 
Credit


April 28, 2021

Morning Sounds

Morning Sounds
by M. Griswold
06212000

I awake in the morning to all kinds of sounds.
First of which is me, snoring profound.
Next usually comes a burp and a fart ,
but generally speaking, I can't tell them apart.

Then comes the alarm clock ringing at me,
causing screams of confusion momentarily.
Banging frantically in the half darkened dawn,
I cuss to put an end to its clanging loud gong.

My other half rolls over and groans,
then lets out a big fart all of her own.
Sniffing in self violation she painfully moans.
God help the poor fella that shares her home.

A symphony of flushing can soon be heard
as we each take our turns at depositing turds.
Followed closely by snorting and hacking
as we clear our nasals of the snots unpacking.

A chorus of gargling, bad breath to be cured.
A shrill sheik or two of reflections mirrored.
Brushing of teeth brings that wash board effect.
Then the spattering of paste in the sink to eject.

After all that audio abuse, we finally arrive at this,
the best morning sound of all, a first morning kiss.
It makes it all worth the torture and horror to ears.
Of all those god awful sounds made over the years.

Carrie On

it wasn’t the measured meanness 
nor the pig blood
nor the rampage of Carrie’s revenge
but the quiet walk
to the graveyard
depositing flowers
remembering the saint...forgetting the maelstrom
§
§
§
§
§
as the grub-filled hand erupts through the soil
to impale one more victim.
the grave has no conscience.

10/31/2019

Once Again

Once Again
Waves crash upon the sands on a still lonely beach
Raging water stretching out as far as it could reach
Depositing all things caught within it’s powerful hand
Then solemnly retreats, leaving soft ripples in the sand

The sounds, such a mesmerizing effect for all to hear
From each crash, each wave, whitish of foam disappears
Then again, gaining strength, again the wave starts to roll
Crash again upon the sands, each cycle taking it’s toll

Each crash, water depth creeping closer inward to shore 
Each wave, rolling of thunder, different from the one before 
Each return, eroding sand, uncovering some lost life forms
Each cycle, within all earths violent tidal thunderstorms  

Once again her thunderous sound fills the air
Once again she retreats, sights extraordinaire
Once again, this cycle repeats one more time
Once again, within this universal paradigm 
O
     N
         C
               E
                A
           G
        A
      I 
 N

Sweat

Sweat and the sea are salty 		
and alike.
	
A lazy man and a corpse
never sweat.

Mountaineers mount up the
slithery mounts.
Resistance yields, dissolving
in sweat.
Seeds sprout in the fallen beads,
life-drops.

Success floats in sweat, depositing
fresh joys.

Each victory in the history sparkles
through sweat.

First published in The Literary Hatchet (Pear Tree Press, US)

Serving Her Majesty

monarch lays her eggs 
                     the milkweeds her nursery
                         and I her nursemaid 




MagiCicada 17


*Doubly blessed, another female Monarch visiting my milkweeds
 this morning, depositing her seeds of gold.

The Colors of My Mind

As I turn my thoughts inward, my imagination runs rife.
Melted candle wax paints my mind in the colors of my life.

Dripping over the surface in a dazzeling display,
leaving trails of colors mixing here and there along the way.

The candles burn in sequence; each the other lights
depositing layers of color as another one ignites.

Pink is my compassion, nurturing and love.
Blue is my tranquility and faith in Heaven above.

Green defines my roots and Irish ancestry.
Yellow is my imagination and creativity.

The colors keep on growing and expanding on my mind;
Each represents all I am and everything I find.

Someday the candle will burn out and the colors turn to black;
Until that time, I will seek out the colors that I lack.


February 24, 2018

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