It was in the morning
When I heard him snoring
Like loud like a lion
He who falls from my eyes
Every sense feeling nonsense
Early lights in goosebumps
Served myself a red riddle
Leaving me tortured and energetic
Shooting my lungs to no air
My kidneys helped me breathe
Each cough counting complaints
In a peaceful war against the snore
It was at the noon
When I took the spoon
As slowly as a chameleon
I heard with my idle itchy iris
The solo sweetness of sugar
The extent the morning envied
The signalled shock swiftly slowed
At this cold clock I realised
You'll possibly progress into pains
In cheerful charming your chains
I needed bread! I had bread!
Was then full a hundred
It was in the evening
When he saw me shoutly quiet
In twilight trails similar to noon
All that split my peas into pies
I had no more morning mourns
More morning laughs had me
Sunday's not Sunday unless there's a roast.
It's the day of the week that I cherish the most.
With the veg on the hob and meat in the oven.
The aroma that wafts is a gift sent from heaven.
It's a time for the family to gather round the table.
Which keeps families together and families stable.
Gathered with the family, we laugh and we cheer.
It's the warmth of this day that I hold so dear.
With the carrots and the roasties lined up on the plate.
It's a smell just to savour and i just cannot wait!
So bring on that gravy and serve up that meat.
As this is the time to make Sunday complete.
Whilst we sit at the table, tuck into this feast.
My plate overflowing. This dinner is a beast!
With a belly so full, a home filled with aroma.
One eye on the sofa, for the incoming food coma!
Surrounded by loved ones, we share in the cheer.
It's the day of the week that feels so sincere.
It's a feast for the soul, now time for a toast.
That Sunday's not Sunday unless there's a roast.
Starting full, a beauty complete.
The sun circles and circles once more.
The toll it came and so they fall.
It continues to thrive, just less.
The sun circles and circles once more.
Beauty grows a mask.
Unseen at first, the death doesn’t kill.
The sun circles and circles once more.
It reached sand claws, tries to fight.
Efforts unknown, futile, lacking.
The sun circles and circles once more.
Changing colors seen as beauty.
At last all bare, no hiding left.
The sun circles and circles once more.
Stripped open releasing.
Welcoming, ending.
The sun circles once more.
The doors are big.' The room has benches.. people hussle
Around, some in suits and a few wear gowns; robes grim
Faces and keen looks, at times the benches are full at
Others less than a quarter full, a room of judgement of
Examination accusation and pleading cases, of drama dry
Of drama moistening eyes; there is fear' also a sense of
Retribution! And power.' There is another room there are
Rows of benches, in the distance a platforn and above the
Curtains where scenes are played, by good or bad or
Average actors, this is a place of people in suits and robes
Gowns with capes, and swords there are teary scenes shouts
And screams, grim faces moist eyes overacting reaction rage
You name it.'
There is another room..In another house normally on a hill.'
There are rows of seats, a raised chair like a court, there are
People in suits with darting eyes some are dressed in gowns
And robes.' There is drama here examination speeches and
Indignation, moist eyes; tears fear cheers' and reputations to
Earn or burn, this place is the seat of government..Does it in
Anyway? Remind you of other places I have written about.?
a...full loss (of 'why')
be as
a...fun damn! (mental trap)
that's as
a...(full a soap hic-call) problem
being in
a...shower (the ringing of a phone)
disturbs you in
a...way too loud manner (that's a full-loss-of-ease)
over
a...filed loss-of-fees (concerning unpaid bills)
in the mail
stan sand
What do I have to show for it, you ask me?
A life filled with moments, both bright and free.
memories of laughter, tears, and glee.
A collection of stories, each one a spree.
I have the scars of love, the marks of time,
The lessons learned, the wisdom that's divine.
I have the dreams that I dared to chase,
The triumphs and the failures, in their place.
I have the friends who stood by my side,
The ones who laughed and cried with me, and bide.
I have the memories of sunsets and sunrises,
The moments that made my heart sing and rise.
I have the love that I've known and felt,
The joy that I've tasted, the pain that I've dealt.
I have the stories of my life, so far,
The journey that I've taken, the paths that I've star.
So, what do I have to show for it all?
A heart that's full, a soul that's tall.
A life that's lived, a story to tell,
A collection of moments, each one swell.
Am I crazy I might be I don’t mind
I was lost I don’t remember when
But here I am I don’t know why
But by the grace of God
Streets filled with busy shoppers laughing buying
Busy shoppers arrive home bags full a warm bed
Concerned that something should be done easily said
When you are well fed
Life is good when your mattress isn’t the sidewalk
But here I am by the grace of God
I am crazy I have been told more than once
Jesus ate with the sinners and tax collectors
I know I was there
Jesus touched the unclean when many wouldn’t
And they touched Him and He touched me
So many looking for hope whatever the cost
Life’s a gamble, scratch the card the big one elusive
Life is good when your mattress isn’t the sidewalk
But by the grace of God here I am
Frank Black Blacharczyk
there is a painting at the art gallery,
I have a strong affection for;
it is a man that calls me from the past,
in the year 1670 lived this nobleman.
long dark hair falls to his shoulders,
a strong face with fathomless eyes;
eyes full a passion and desire,
he does not smile, yet I adore him.
I want to reach out to him,
he seems to see me, beckon to me;
come to me- he whispers,
aristocratic is his demeanor, dignified.
O, but could I step within the frame,
be in his world- in his time;
we would hold hands in silence,
for he would know without question . . .
my heart and soul are his forever.
__________________________
March 01, 2023 (Repost)
Poetry/Freed Verse/the painting
Copyright Protected, ID 03-1528-736-01
All Rights Reserved, 2023, Constance La France
Submitted to the Standard contest, You Pick Again
sponsor, Brian Strand, Judged 03/02/2023
Third Place
Where in the night sky would I seek
to find the daughter of love,
while Phobos rounds Mars close cheek
tho' Deimos breaches slower above.
Never wanted to be less than whole
lost in a soldier's conquered dreams,
like fine wine alas asked to taste all,
love's sweet draught in moonbeams.
Never harbor a jealous heart
only serves to fulfill it's own needs..
to poison love's lasting waters,
and steal away bright moonbeams.
Laugh at all life's fortunes won
those red rosey skies full a sun..
yet all evenings lost it seems..
in moonbeams,
bright moonbeams,
oh, those
moonbeams.
phil owed....so, why?
...a...
full loss of why
...be as......
phil awes sophie
...though...
phil lost sophie
...but, the...
full awes...of 'why'
...show a...
full awed sophie
...with a...
full a soap...'hi'
...meaning...
phil awed soapy's...'hi'
...and showed a...
full awe...soap eh?!
...then smiled a...
full'a soap...'hi'
...and both were...
full'a soft tickles
stans sand
Like a young heart, the sun outshines,
flirting with the billows of clouds,
leaving a gentle kiss on the blushing horizon.
Cry of mucking gulls above,
visit the no longer alone, white laced-topped waves;
its bounty full, a romantic love with morning gone.
A tern with its black hat,
near goldenrod, scattered in heaps,
pecks on the length of the treasures of the beach.
The tuneful sound of the spring ocean surf,
rolls in, touches my toes in a tease,
then runs away giggling, but not for long.
Once again it rolls to chase me for a nip at my toes.
4/12/2022
I met my Aloneness. It found me.
It moved into me, and I embraced it in an empty room.
In that moment I became full, a clear glass of sparkling water.
The sun and the moon were in that water, and the light of the stars.
I knew then that I was beautiful,
for all the light that ever was or ever will be
knew that it was Alone; a complete comprehension
that we vessels were created
to be these containers for Aloneness.
Since then I have been Alone in a crowded room,
I am defeated by my own grandeur,
and there is no we.
as electricity parkours to metal
isn't its sound
i wonder what sounds electricity would choose
an atmos without phere
atoms that can hear
now is this a tear in the universe
or a tear in the universe
cmon the rip
your nearly there
where words were once
wonder what a universer ipping
a part might make
and darkness does not turn
or maybe takes its turn
this (wait is two turns a return)
this noneexistence list
becoming hopeless
well hope full A
+ for effor
never tried
tired
bye
Tonight shines bright, moonlight beam
Wildlife shadows move between
Hunters and hunted hide in silence
Manoeuvre their skill, their instinct as guidance
A squawk, a squeal, a wildlife kill
A tum now full, a fresh night meal
Rustle of leaves, a silent wait
Wind echos the sound of a creaking gate
The hoot of an owl, screech of a fox
Insects living in a rotting old box
Rabbits out dining, their little ones in tow
Bats ariel acrobatics swoop high and low
Natures night matinee draws an end
Their beds and safety they will depend
The moon slowly dims her light
Respite for another survival fight.
23.01.21
Cruising southwards to LA from Sac
a midnight filled with songs ‘n Luna,
light-etching hills in a black infernal…
It was a leviathan’s back on which I
felt the tires unrolling a chilled grief ~
Owlish-full, a hypnotic moon, ‘n Dido
reminiscing tunefully about surrender
negating white flags and loves forlorn...
Inside the eye, a wispy face smiled hi
and gently slid open a papery fusuma...
Dazed, I held her gaze, so undead
Round face framed in softest ether
exhaling cool peppermint to inhale ~
Amaranth rains of fleeting gardenia,
mildly-scented dawn's astral gloam ***
(11/2/2020)
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