First Light Poems - Poems about First Light

PRIOR TO INTENT: Dawn's First Light

DAWN'S FIRST LIGHT
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
silence at daybreak.
sacred encounter with the Divine, 
a conference of heart and soul.

beyond form, beyond language
heart beats, an echo, 
a pulse vibrating through the silence.

wordless intent, 
unvoiced 
yet profoundly clear~  

a stirring, 
a flicker of grace
captures the dawn.

my soul meets God's pulse
I am led
I am unbound.  

soul ascends

Poem written for Prior

First Light

across jade dew grass...
quick barefoot numbing stumbles  -
                      warm lips bid heart thaw





~~~~~~~~~~~

first light

First Light

Golden rays,
spilling through the blinds,
a gentle caress.

A symphony of birdsong,
a crescendo of dawn.

Warmth,
embracing the skin,
a whisper of a new day.

Eyes open,
stretch and breathe,
a sigh of contentment.

The world awakens,
a canvas of possibility,
untouched, vibrant,
fresh.

Heart alight,
spirit soaring,
a sense of possibility
in every beat.

A perfect morning.
A promise
of joy to be embraced,
a masterpiece
to be created.

First Light

Light seeps as First Light
learns to dance again -
Imagine a blind maiden upon suddenly seeing
how lovely her legs were,
imagine her surprise and wonder!

First Light is like that.
Light must seep out of darkness,
there can be nothing sudden
about the dawns awakening.
It is a birth, the light must bleed
out of that dark womb,
must become young and fresh.

That light

First Light

Big Sur aperture
pacific soul coast highway
picture perfect pause

First Light

An enchanting blood red sunrise is slowly dawning in the east,
our morning premier glimpse, of this fire breathing beast.
Its crimson wave envelops the darkness of our land,
an hourglass revealed that drops each grain of sand.

Nefarious nightly creatures quickly scurry out towards the west,
the moon and stars now fade and claim their mundane rest.
Harmonious birds now

First Light

The pond is brackish
a smear of lichen,
a low haze.

Water birds dabble in their sleep.
Soon the sun
will dash across a drop of dew
to burst dams of light.

Wings will shake off
dwindling shadows,
slap the wet air
until the water awakes.

First Light

how bright the dew
in the sunlight
each drop
a picture of a world remade

down by the dock herons watch
rainbows riding over silver fish

time shows-up as a water road
journeying to just here

this place where dawn dew
mirrors a million first lights
gleaming out
of a million suns

my dog sniffs at the prismatic air
the light
the new fledged green 

she sweeps her furry

At the First Light

Happy birthday, dear Marjorie, 
The new morn replaces the night; 
The dawn and beacon both agree, 
As you wake up at the first light. 

Topic: Birthday of Marjorie Isidro (March 14)

Grateful For the First Light of Day

The eminent breeze slips through the trees,
multitudes of scrawny fingers guided by stout limbs,
conducts the aria.

the trill of daybreak
whilst the morning star shines bright
the moon on the wane

Oh! Sweet Merle your irrepressible melody defies all that is logic,
one understands these balmy mornings of summer, yet deepest frost
wailing winds from the Southern Ocean does not discourage

First Light

Skyline amber rays,

                                            emergent luster array.

      

First Light

sun strokes my brow

I reach but she's not there

morning settles in

Dawn's First Light

Walked out into dawn's first light
   Yet ensconced in fears of night
Would the golden sun's rays shine
   Would sky and sea be yours and mine

to stroll beside pure waves of pleasure
   as blue waters lap the shore in leisure...
You touched my hand and thrilled my heart
   Horizon's

First Light In the Star Fields

A stone in the backyard,
roughly cratered like the moon,
a black stone
heavy with ancient cinders – 
fire chipped.

Could it be a meteorite
or maybe a bit of cold star-fire?
It’s so very old, 
utterly lost
even though 
it is now placed here in my hand -
placed for an iota of time.
 
Lots of rocks in the black 
pock-marked yonder-
in

First Light To Keep

The first cut sharp and burning red,
  don’t edit away its fire

Keep the wound both fresh and raw,
  never cauterize your ire

The horizon breaks just once each day,
  a new dawn—cold hearts aspire
  
Rays burning deep, first light to keep
   —old ashes to inspire

(Villanova Pennsylvania: October, 2016)

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