Two rings for vow
Meet in altar
Once in lifetime.
At last past years
Had passed made fruit
Labor of love.
Patience lays egg
If you believe
Yield good result.
True love awaits
If your hope last
End of rainbow.
Stand and deliver! this new bundle for your life
Never you knave, I’m a muse not some midwife
Bring me warm water, and lots of clean towels
Did you not hear, I use consonants and vowels
Too late it’s coming, goodness feels like a tome
Not really, congratulations! it’s a bite size poem
Bitesize Poem no.53 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Line Gauthier
10/08/22
world weary of iambics and prose ~ work with inkwells write from your soul
WORK PERSPECTIVE MONOKU Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Beata Agustin
how many syllables (17)
05/05/22
Poetry is a gift and a labor of love.
Beautifully inspired words of
Gentleness. Composing words
Of Kindness. Chasing the
Blues far far away!
Poetry is a gift and a labor of love.
Heavenly angels joyfully singing
Words of Wisdom and words of
Love. Flowing freely!
Poetry is a gift and a labor of love.
Heavenly saints join in their
Chorus of inspirational love.
Rejoicing for all eternity.
Poetry is a gift and a labor of love.
Freely flowing from my mind.
Continually all of the time.
Wonderful words! Beautiful words!
Poetry is a gift and a labor of love.
Dancing queens in bright colors.
Swirling around in circles.
It's their limn! It's their limn!
Love in Christ Jesus!
Roxanne Lea Dubarry
Roxy Lea 1954
Roxy 1954/ October Country
May 24, 2020
Labor Of Love
Her labor of love began from the start,
When playing, feeding, they pushed her apart,
A large litter, siblings thought her a runt,
Fed from mom's rival, thought her as an aunt.
We were part of each other, playfully,
When hit by a car, held her tenderly,
A ball in my mitt, she fit like a glove,
Unceasingly, looks, her labor of love.
Growing up, my human friends, I parted,
Distant came news, her last days, bighearted,
Her labor of love, gone, on my return,
Yellow pup, named Banana, that she, earn.
Like the stars when glittery, was her Bow,
And the Moon that shone brightly, was her Wow!
2019 September 28
*2nd Place*
Write a Rhyme about your favorite PET, living or not
~~Regina Riddle
The pastor labors with love as he shepherd's God's sheep.
Day after day week after week.
He is God's light house that stands tall on the shore.
His beacon shines bright through our darkest of storms.
He keeps us from dashing ourselves on the rocks.
He keeps us afloat and guides us along.
Even when the Pastor takes a day off deep in his heart
he's still there with his flock.
Great is his love for the God that he serves.
He teaches and preaches the truth of his word.
Sometimes it gives comfort, sometimes it cuts deep,
some times it stirs us from our head to our feet.
Tender and loving, humble and meek, the pastor labors with love as he shepherd's God's sheep.
P.S.
For all pastors every where. We love you and thank you
for all that you do.
I look you up and look you over,
better days have left you far behind,
you're older, but to me you're still appealing,
yet you draw comments that are less than kind.
You're neglected, not consulted,
when an answer is required,
hidden now behind the others,
avoided, disregarded, mired.
I massage your spine with oil and friction,
restoring your luster to cherish and keep,
remembering when you were readily handled,
sought after, popular, top of the heap.
I'm so busy these days with my key restorations,
I scarcely have time, and I don't have a say,
so you'll have to hold on for my deft ministrations,
a labor of love, postponed for a better day.
I look you up and look you over,
better days have left you far behind,
you're older, but to me you're still appealing,
yet you draw comments that are less than kind.
You're neglected, not consulted,
when an answer is required,
hidden now behind the others,
avoided, disregarded, mired.
I massage your spine with oil and friction,
restoring your luster to cherish and keep,
remembering when you were readily handled,
sought after, popular, top of the heap.
I'm so busy these days with my key restorations,
I scarcely have time, and I don't have a say,
so you'll have to hold on for my deft ministrations,
a labor of love, postponed for a better day.
I look you up and look you over,
better days have left you far behind,
you're older, but to me you're still appealing,
yet you draw comments that are less than kind.
You're neglected, not consulted,
when an answer is required,
hidden now behind the others,
avoided, disregarded, mired.
I massage your spine with oil and friction,
restoring your luster to cherish and keep,
remembering when you were readily handled,
sought after, popular, top of the heap.
I'm so busy these days with my key restorations,
I scarcely have time, and I don't have a say,
so you'll have to wait for my deft ministrations,
a labor of love, postponed for a quieter day.
I take you down and look you over,
you've seen better days.
Not so young as you used to be,
and you smell musty. I lay you open
and begin my examination.
I take off your jacket.
In all honesty much of your language
is extraneous, in need of editing.
Simple is as simple does.
You're green and moldy,
and rough around the edges;
you'll need a good rubbing with linseed oil.
I close your pages,
and put you back on the shelf,
a labor of love for another day.
Sweet memories swerve
As winds of destiny massage into moments, times
Lullaby scents linger following the streaking trails set by memorial reunions
Unfurling moments of childhood in tomorrow
Clouds wither tears in seasonal dew
Following the waters along the templates of hollow winds and silver slides
Whistling twirls glide along passionate wings of times pleasantries
Rearranged in patterned confluence
Curling over suspensions of infinite intuitions
Gaining and gathering momentum in infinite dispersions
While designing congruence in affluence
Propelling shores off course
Resonance reverberations vibrate, rewind, collide, regenerate and stimulate
The release of translucent intellectual norms
That slowly settle on subtle charges surging in order
Gradually residing on the serendipitous labor of love
That lingers selflessly caressing the eternal seat of every source unknown…
Your kindness was seen
By Him that keeps you
Crowns are set for you too
Just you continue serving
And truly you will see
When you humbly help others
A light is shown in heaven
The author of your faith remembers
He will never leave you nor forsake
Your blessings are unlimited
You will soon remember this
When the over flow comes
Take hold of it
Enjoy every moment of giving
This kind of life is worth living
Never cease to care
Do not hold back nor despair
Your labor of love
Is like a breath of fresh air
Most of us all go to work in a very negative way.
Most of us can't wait for the end of our work day.
I happen to be one of the above.
Oh, to experience a true labor of love.
I'm not talking about a hobby or freely giving
one's services to charity to those most deserving.
I'm talking about a labor of love that provides a descent living
in these economic times most unforgiving.
I can't imagine what it must feel like waking up every morning every day
and can't wait to get to work because it's the highlight of my day.
A true labor of love for me I believe
would be to continue sharing with all of you my poetry
but alas, that's a labor of love that is most unlikely.
My poetry will most likely always be for me
My Labor Of Love Hobby.
Labor of love, infinite Grace.
Eternal bliss, devine joy.
Power to save, devine works of faith.
Eternal salvation, Omnipotent One!
Fullness complete, encompassing light.
Sweet surrender, pathway of life.
Evolving love, wonder of wonders.
Hope desires, faithful One!
Gentle hands, leadership given.
Passionate father, forgiving forever.
Dwelling Grace, A grand embrace.
Labor of love, infinite Grace.
(c) June 18, 2006