The first death takes the life
And deprives us a simple touch
And a familiar laugh
To fill the spaces around us.
The second death suffers time
To create a widening rift -
Leaving one weeks - months behind
As in abandonment.
The third death is our memory -
What elements - what remnants
Hover almost perceptibly
But the mind fails to focus.
The final death is the loss of things -
A favorite - a souvenir
Broken into haphazard pieces
By a careless hand - forever.
My favorite stones are blue
turquoise, opal, and blue topaz
I am drawn to them first
in every instance
I always wondered why
thinking they symbolize the sky
water or heaven
I know my go-to-rings and necklaces are blue
at a psychic fair one of the mediums tapped my ring
it is my absolute favorite – a diamond shaped blue topaz
set high above a band of light blue opals
This is the exact perfect ring for you, she told me
it will bring you what you seek,
blue connects you to your higher power
I have not quite figured it out
but I continue to lean toward stones that are blue
except lapis lazuli– for some reason that one repulses me.
9/30/2023
For coffee lovers, only~ it is time to celebrate!
Get out your favorite, beloved coffee mug..
Let’s make iSunday, a “mugnificent “ day!
That morning jolt, inspires so many poets!
You can drink it black or add milk,or half and half.
Or…..my favorite..a dollop of whipped cream.
Sprinkle fresh, zesty, ground cinnamon on the top.
And…mmm…you will magically transported to ….
A sun kissed, bright, striped-awning covering …..
The most elegant, Beverly Hills, Coffee Café!.
I raise my mug to you!
Pangie
tree
woodlands
forest fair
enticing winds
nurturing mushrooms
stalwart soldiers of peace
surrounded by violets
my haven my safety my joy
nirvana, Shangri-la loveliness
I hug my favorite, a big white oak
He gifted his girl with a doll
he brought home from every trip.
Oh, how the beauty would enthrall!
Always her heart would flop and flip.
A doll so rigid stiff and straight,
she had to have a pedestal
just to support he couture’s weight!
Her fashions were incredible.
Her essence was molded plastic.
Her hair and eye color unique.
Her formal wear was fantastic,
fairly fashioned of worthy pique.
Each doll distinct in color and dress.
A favorite, a darked-haired beauty.
Her frock of emerald finesse,
not just another frail cutie!
A collection long lost to time
as is each chenille pipe cleaner.
I cherish moments of their prime,
and their glamorous demeanor.
In the corner
Little Jack Horner
Sat in the corner
Fighting the urge back to cry
His tummy was aching
For what mom was baking
His favorite, a sweet cherry pie
But there he was waiting
His project negating
If only he’d thought first to try
And aim for a door
When he painted the floor
Now he’s stuck there until it does dry
Written for the “In the corner” poetry contest
Sponsored by Anthony Slausen
Crowned the queen of creativity: she is
Always adding aroma to art with alacrity,
Rhyming rhapsodies…and raising red roses.
Oh oasis of outstanding opera! you are
Leading a lively, lovely, lady-like life.
Brown… bold, bright and beautiful! She is my
Red-hot favorite: a rare gem in my roll of honor; always
Opening our minds to overwhelming oration.
Wisdom wanders in her wealthy wells... she
Never niggles at the novice in her noble nursery.
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.