Pick One of Five 6-21-25 Image #1
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Sunrise Greets Dawn
Sunrise greets dawn first lights arise
To the beat of unfolding wings
Masking misty azurine skies
Sunrise greets dawn.
Across still water swan chants sing
Bathed in glories of the sunrise
Rosy ballads for morning ring.
Bands of silver steel run lengthwise
Bridging midnight and dawn’s dayspring
Pink aurora turns from moonrise
Sunrise greets dawn.
Love meets us where we are
and sees through
Our disguises
Our guises
Our performances
Our nuances
Our expectations
Our innovations
Our convictions
Our contradictions
Our excellencies
Our inconsistencies
Love greets us where we are
Sees right through us
and does not run away
grumpy grumbling grungy gregarious gremlin Greggory
gratefully grasped grainy grandma’s green grapes in glee
greathearted Gretchen greeted greenhorn grim-reaper with gee
grinning, groovy, grown grandson growled among grimy greenery
grandiose grim-reaper granted gratuities and graves gracefully,
grubby? Gruesome? Graphic? Gruff too Grandparents greedily agree.
gruff, gripping, grotesque, gratifying gravestones, grandiose in glee
grumpy grumbling grungy gregarious gremlin Gregg no longer will be.
a giant genuine gargoyle greets you said the gothic cathedral host.
as if this terrifying statue of scariness is a good thing of which to boast.
the kindergarteners were screaming as they got off the tour bus.
it took weeks for us to simmer them down, me and my teacher pal Gus.
never again we told the principal, we will not take anyone five.
they were frightened to death, thinking they might not leave alive.
Quote by: Rumi
(You are not a drop in the ocean but an entire ocean in one drop)
Beaten and whipped scoured and wrung like a dish cloth
am I
inside this night gown the sweat and grime of a lifetime
am I ?
Fish or woman master or slave of my own self
am I
good or bad demon or saint I don't really know who
I am
Then he sings to me a song I knew from my childhood
" The I Am " song....
and suddenly, I'm fire, I'm host and all of the above
I am a child hungry to eat his word and drink His love
I am His and He is mine
Together we are...
Because Buddy is an exceptionally large dog
Weighing ninety-two pounds, measuring five feet
Not counting his tail, even though he is only two and a baby
Some delivery people are fearful when they see him.
He is a gentle giant, but his girth and height are off-putting.
If they were smart, they would be more afraid of our twelve-year-old Sophie
Our nasty, snapping, snarling, growling, grousing Cocker Spaniel.
She would take down a grizzly with her toothless mouth and in a mean way.
She is fierce, maybe because she is a female, not like the docile Buddy
The recent delivery driver was shaking in her shorts at Buddy.
He was placing strategic kisses on her when my husband pulled him off.
I was relieved, because straddling her would have been the next activity.
I have a camera on my truck she told my man. I will sue you if he bites me.
You should have bitten her leg off! I told him. I would have slapped her silly.
I would have punched her and kicked her and beaten her a new face.
No one threatens to sue my husband.
So now you see who Sophie takes after.
A-crostic
N-atal
N-ote
A-bout
B-irthday
E-vent
L-ets
P-oem
A-dvance
C-elebration
A-s
T-he
A-uthor
N-icely
G-reets
Topic: Birthday of Annabel Pacatang (November 10)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
Dawn Greets the Poet
It's cold today and my fresh cup
of coffee is coming to me.
It's the petrol that jump starts my
sleeping, poetic brain.
Ah, here it comes in my favorite red plaid kitchen cup.
I can hear those brain cells waking up!
What's this today! Oh, how sweet!
A Christmas tree-shaped tiny cake!
Indeed, oh my yes! I can smell the aroma of fresh ideas,
start to bake!
December 9, 2019
rose
greets me
from her place
on thorny bush
which protects her from the interlopers
even the deer respect her privacy
staying away
from that bush
a lone
rose
The broken limb hangs by a gnat's breath
waiting for a wind
To stir the leafy attached limbs
releasing it to blend
Back into the soil of the earth
Giving of itself again
Its life used to give up oxygen
Now grow life where it has been
Cataract grows where lens did work
Knuckles ache, also the feet
Heart grows weak; getting time to sleep
Live goes on, but heaven greets
She greets me at the door
with a tiptoe embrace,
Her wild berries scent
sifts soon my soul.....
then,
her hand so softly my face,
she stares my well-traveled orbs;
" What? " I ask, worried....
she smiles,
" Your green eyes I love.... "
" Oh, " I say
" and your blue eyes more.... "
(Kisses are sweet)
(When she greets me at the door)
Misery sets
Misery greets
Greets the old
Greets the new
New beginnings
New you
You are blind
You did not see
See the pain
See my tears
Tears that mocked
Tears that stood
Stood out
Stood shouting
Shouting loud
Shouting your name
Name one time
Name your fear
Fear of loving
Fear of moving
Moving fast
Moving close
Close the door
Close your eyes
Eyes that linger
Eyes that die
Die quiet
Die I must
Must end now
Must end here
Here you see
Here is me
See...
Me...
The storm raged in fury all night
in morning's light the damage plain
the havoc greets our eye sight
Houses knocked down by its might
ruins scattered on floodplain
the storm raged in fury all night
Trees uprooted some taken flight
strewn like firewood behind remain
the havoc greets our eye sight
Just like lovers full of contrite
they are parting bringing them pain
the storm raged in fury all night
Breaking their hearts in the daylight
their home in ruins drove them insane
the havoc greets our eye sight
Nowhere to live, lost their birthright
their home, their castle, their domain
The storm raged in fury all night
the havoc greets our eye sight
The year gets older storms streak the skies I am told age is a quality of the mind,
Do I sit indoors and watch the fog, the dirt, the rain and wind splash on my windows,
So I wonder around indoors in a depressing influence of a winter with its suffering,
Muttering to myself and to others that old age has made me leave my dreams behind me.
Standing by French windows, beaten by tempests, so I shuffle over to an evening fire,
The flowers have gone and longer grass stands among the thickets withered, bleached,
The fern red and shriveled amid the green gorse and broom, even my hope has gone cold,
Plants that waved white umbels to the summer breeze now a skeleton a trophy of death.
The brooks are brimful the rivers turbid covered with masses of foam hurrying along,
Words in my head whisper, if you no longer plan ahead, ambitions dead, you are old,
Our gardens, sad and damp and so desolate their floral splendors are naked and dead,
Decaying leaves have taken the place of verdure and all is gloom and all is silence.
The year gets older storms streak the skies I am told age is a quality of the mind,
Do I sit indoors and watch the fog, the dirt, the rain and wind splash on my windows,
So I wonder around indoors in a depressing influence of a winter with its suffering,
Muttering to myself and to others that old age has made me leave my dreams behind me.
Standing by French windows, beaten by tempests, so I shuffle over to an evening fire,
The flowers have gone and longer grass stands among the thickets withered, bleached,
The fern red and shriveled amid the green gorse and broom, even my hope has gone cold,
Plants that waved white umbels to the summer breeze now a skeleton a trophy of death.
The brooks are brimful the rivers turbid covered with masses of foam hurrying along,
Words in my head whisper, if you no longer plan ahead, ambitions dead, you are old,
Our gardens, sad and damp and so desolate their floral splendors are naked and dead,
Decaying leaves have taken the place of verdure and all is gloom and all is silence.
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