shaken jar of sand, new memories made
I
as
a child,
loved night time.
Summer with fireflies,
made the nights very magical.
We love catching them and putting them in a glass jar.
The pretty jar was all aglow then morning came a sad funeral for all of them.
I've seen a ship in a bottle
and a barque inside a jar
how they got there I've no idea
perhaps a retractable spar
mariners made them
when all at sea
or in the doldrums
averting voyage-long ennui
what it signifies I know not
but there's a punt
in the bottom of mine
maybe an impediment
to catch sediment
when storing
or accommodate
a thumb for pouring
yet it does not improve the wine
Being sad
Isn't bad
It's okay to cry
Once in a while
You just feel like you have to sigh
All your problems just pile
Depression is like recession
You can't keep filling up a jar
Not expecting it to overflow
It can only hold so much
When you have to stop you'll know
When the water passes the rim
All your emotions will come out
You can't stop that on a whim
But youu can control if you pout
Don't be afraid of crying
No one wants you lying
Jar of Memories
I sell a jar of memories,
For when your path has lost its ease
When worries block the road you tread,
And hope and joy have gone instead
This jar can cure the ground you’ve trod,
It brings your past back from the sod
You’ll cherish and live once again,
Your golden moments back to when
Like phoenix, rise, reborn, renewed,
Buy back your past, have it reviewed
Catch what was lost, rebuild your days,
And live again in kinder ways
We are human clay
Clay pots for the Lord’s display
And as we are led in a cruciform way
It is the Lord who will restore the cracks with new clay
But the cracks are to be seen and known
As we grow in Christ and our light dimly shown
That Light will break forth through every crack
And like Gideon’s Army will break forth
with the Light that we lack
So goes the pugilistic efforts that we’ve offered
Beating the air in our futility that’s proffered
But our fight is shown in the cracks of the jars
It’s shown in this life through pottery shards
Shown to give glory to the One that’s in charge
He repairs all, the connards and the canards
So, Jesus repairs you and me
He uses His kintsugi
To mend the pottery
The fractured pitcher of you and me
(He uses silver and gold and His Refiner’s fire
To refine our focus towards Him our Desire)
The Desire of all nations bursts forth
in the breaking of the clay
We will share in a new life that’s breaking today
Marmalade on top of toast
It’s such a pleasant and delightful treat
~ Lovely swirls of orange zest
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Walking many pretty beaches,
picking up pebbles like peaches.
The cool water licked my feet,
as the sand went through my toes.
Pebbles with a peach color,
jar with old pebbles.
As I try to wish away, all the sadness that I feel;
As if a night sky's falling star, could grant me something real...
If only one small wish, of what's eluded me all this life thus far;
I'd wish for just some happiness, just a little in a jar;
So I could open as I needed, unload some sadness that I feel
Much like unloading bulky freight,
From a trains overloaded boxcar...
If only I could wish away, all the sadness that I feel,
I'd finish this life with certainty
And a soul full of new found zeal...
POETRY IN A JAR
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
words trapped in glass
whispers of a fleeting thought--
time held in silence
I see words, and they see me
It’s true they are sentient, quite
But they will never see the light
of my world through my loins
They keep floating by, ever speaking
never ceasing like tinnitus in my transcendent sight
Like orphans from somewhere never
Their little fingers grope as they look at me squarely
Speaking barely, “bring me into your light”
just before they are gone forever
So much needless loss
I kill my darlings before they become darlings
Their lot is to die in the vacuum
of my fickle muse
If only I could catch them like you do fireflies in a fruit jar
How pretty they would be to see in chaotic containment
and how witty they could be for those with the sight
But alas, my heart cannot hold all the incandescence ink
required for such a noble and beautiful task
So I shall be satisfied to smile when I catch one or two
You are whatever you are.
And I am whatever I want.
So take me how?
However I come.
My stars won't let me fall far.
Flowers and rainbows are all covered in scars.
So keep counting your wishes like bugs in a jar.
Nobody ever tells you that life's is this hard.t
They just spin you around until you fall down.
Round and round, we all fall down.
So keep counting your wishes like bugs in a jar.
Flowers and rainbows are all covered in scars.
All you flowers and rainbows are all covered in scars.
Filling up the unknown eerie,
Reason that turns-into weary,
Slowly piling up the jar of fake Hopes
Seems an open silk thread but truly-many suffocating ropes.
A word so blind,that might relax their thirst.
Ever wondered?when this jar breaks-a cloudburst.
Leaving it empty-accepting what it may...
Keeping up the truths-burying all concealed days.
i feel like an empty jar,
waiting,
just for one thing.
to be filled.
i try to distract myself,
to fill the empty space,
however,
it’s almost like there’s a leak in the jar.
each effort to fill the jar,
becomes a brief moment of relief,
slipping through the cracks,
leaving me hollow,
wondering if anything can truly fill my jar
i search for the sealant,
something to fill the cracks,
but nothing feels sufficient.
leaving me with the same feeling as before,
a jar that can’t be filled.
Life in a Jar
I’d like to find a special jar
To put aside some life,
A jar that keeps both face and form,
And stints the scourge of change.
I’d put therein, a rusted leaf,
Or summer’s one perhaps,
To always have the seasons at
The twisting of a wrist.
I’d put therein, my true love’s kiss,
To always know its taste.
And next to that a snapshot of
The world within her eyes.
I’d also save, encased therein,
First cries out to the world;
Of lives conceived through gifted love,
And feeling newly born.
I’d store away the vistas of
Grand aspects, earthly borne,
And let them burn through fired glass
From every lay of land.
Then I would not be far from life,
From where I cannot see.
No, I prefer to keep it fresh
For morning’s light, through glass.
It’s change that writes the script of life
And fleshes out the page.
While time is just a numbered pause
Without a story told.
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