Misty Day
Glancing out of the window, I see the potted plant
on the sill and the house on the other side of
the road, the light is fading, and the plant looks as
sad as a whitewashed wall in the rain whiteness
is an illusion caused by the sun.
Mist of grief encircles olive trees, are blank
tears on my almond tree´s spindly twigs, yet inside
each droplet sees a tiny world reflecting my own,
only with greater incorruptibility of the untested.
And far away, as a whisper, a mother sings a lullaby.
« O
My dearest, possessing a divine pedigree,
You strive for impeccable integrity.
You shun evil to achieve absolute incorruptibility,
Wherein you will find total tranquility.
I watch as you aim for flawless righteousness,
Admiration grows as you disregard all timelessness.
When you reach for irreproachable honesty,
There is an air about you of complete modesty.
The ease of which it became convincible,
Was that true virtue can be invincible.
It will be invulnerable, what is attained,
And absolutely recoverable what is gained.
You acquire an aura of vestal security,
As your spirit takes on unassailable purity.
James 3 : Verses 17-18 Holy Bible.
17 But the wisdom that comes from heaven is first of all pure; then peace-loving, considerate, submissive, full of mercy and good fruit, impartial and sincere.
18 Peacemakers who sow in peace reap a harvest of righteousness.
grit
i n f l a m e s
narrative
valor
e m b o s o m s
hardship
sorrow
e m b o s s e s
soul
oyster
c r e a t e s
pearl
Susan Ashley
November 24, 2020
*poetry form: Brevette*
~ Honorable Mention ~
Contest: Un-Rhy-Me
Sponsor: Brian Strand
Poet’s note: the pearl is symbolic of perfection and incorruptibility.
I am more than a menace to society
There’s a twist in my sobriety
Please help me sculpt my destiny
Help me return to incorruptibility
Why do I believe Google not your holy book?
Why do I trust the teacher not the parent?
Why do I have faith in the label not the quality?
Why do I confide in counselors not my spouse?
Strangers become closer than siblings
Democracy daunts more than dictatorship
Price becomes more important than value
Which God do I praise and worship?
Who is the custodian of my conscience?
Who is the guardian of my scruples?
Who is the protector of my principles?
Who is the curator of my values and visions?
What if all that I know turned out false?
What if we were wrong about everything?
What if we weren’t who we thought we were?
What if infinity and zero were vice versa?
Misty Day
Glancing out of the window I see the potted plant
on the sill and the house on the other side of
the road… the light is fading and the plant looks as
sad as a whitewashed wall in rain… its whiteness
was an illusion caused by the sun.
Mist of grief encircles olive trees there are blank
tears on my almond tree´s spindly twigs, yet inside
each droplet I see a tiny world reflecting my own,
only with greater incorruptibility of the untested.
And far away, as a whisper, a mother sings a lullaby.
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