Long Skies above Poems
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To kindle flames for which the heart has yearned,
One sets out on a quest to find great love,
Each mountain climbed, no corner left unturned,
From deepest seas to endless skies above.
As sunlight pierces through a clouded sky,
True love awakens what was cold and still,
It finds its nest where deepest passions lie,
In spaces longing for true love to fill.
Yet in the strongest bonds, a fragile chance,
Should love be found then lost, one must accept,
A void to reach the depth of its expanse,
Is left within the space of love once kept.
To seek a love so deep, one risks its cost,
A price to match the weight of love, if lost.
High above the clouds, in the sun’s glow
Blue skies above, blue seas below
In-between, lies millions of milky white clouds
Looking like snow heaps, piled up in mounds
Sitting in this iron-bird, flying in the air
The wonders of God, His majesty how fair
Cloud patches billowing, each with its own shape
Some looking so much like the mountain’s cape
Men take in the air, thousands of dead weight
Have we with death, a final date
Can it be that we know, God’s presence is there
Let’s not our conciseness stifle here
O gracious and most mighty God
I bow in awe at your majesty
Each patch of land below
Each piece of cloud above
Speak volumes of your greatness and love
O Lord my God, how great Thou art
My fellow poets, whenever you should happen to be an airplane again, just take a look out
the window. Look at the clouds, see how they are formed. See how they hang in
suspended air. Look at the wing of the aircraft, see how it floats in the air without falling,
then tell me, there is no God and he is not a great God! I challenge you!
Around me, a trellis, with a bounty of thorns
adorned with lush roses, and I feel I'm reborn
Awake, or a dreamland, I cannot be sure...
There are blue skies, above me, and a caress of the sun
It's as if I'm transparent, and my mind is a blur,
vague pictures, old memories, which I cannot secure
They confuse me, yet free me, from winters within
I'm out of the darkness, from the clouds of despair
The admirable beauty, impossibly soars
with a staircase of alyssum , sweet mosses, and more...
trilliums, wild ginger, sweet violets, adorned
garlands of daisies, and lavender floors
The sky is a blue sea, I want to explore
Birds sailing along, and I envy their wings
But with my eyes closed, I am flying and free!!
Wake me not, if I'm dreaming, I will rest on a star
And dream of the roses, that climb to the clouds
The voice of an angel, tells me I am allowed
to sleep with the knowledge, I can fly in my dreams
and escape to the place, where worry's not found
Around me, a trellis, with a bounty of thorns
adorned with lush roses, and I feel I'm reborn
___________________________________________________________
My lady and her unborn child I'd borne
to this small town, where door to door they went
in search of some place they might stay till morn.
At last, to this small stable they were sent.
Though worried, they were very good to me.
My lady was in pain. I heard her moan
while Joseph knelt beside her tenderly
to wipe her brow; a star above them shone.
I looked up and could see it getting bright,
then brighter when she gave birth to her son!
Some shepherds came; it was a wondrous sight.
I heard them say He was the chosen one
of whom the angels sang in skies above!
Mere creature that I am, I felt pure love.
(I am the donkey, by the way, in case I needed to name the animal!)
Written November 2015 for the Christmas With Christ Poetry Contest of Isaiah Zerbst
For years I searched for the perfect love
like the brightest star in celestial skies above.
Only a few romantic relationships sizzled,
but after a while they sputtered and fizzled.
I looked to the heavens for what I sought
but I found no shining star among the lot.
Each night I watched the black velvet skies
as myriads of stars appeared before my eyes.
Hope of finding one bolder than the rest
left me feeling forlorn and bleak at best.
I gave up thinking that I would ever find
the one for me, but discovered love is blind.
It was only when I stopped desiring so hard
that I found a stellar light near my backyard.
I had no need to go exploring another galaxy
to find the only star that was perfect for me.
This cold winter rain makes me lazy.
I miss the warm sunshine of fall.
All I want to do is to rest.
It seems I've no energy at all.
I long for the coming of spring
When my spirit and the earth are reborn.
For the drab winter weather saddens me
And leaves me feeling forlorn.
This season has barely begun
And I'm already wishing it gone.
I miss the clear skies above
And the bird's chatter greeting the dawn.
Winter can be so depressing,
Especially when you're alone.
The rain, the snow and the cold, cold wind
Leaves me feeling weary to the bone.
I count the days till it's over
And the spring arrives at last.
Three more months is a long, long time
To live life with skies overcast.
Dreary skies above with their heavy load.
A teardrop window is my eye on things.
I dream of trippin' down the winding road.
Where life is larger than it sometimes seems.
Saying half a prayer 'bout sending some sun.
Never getting signs of any wonder.
Sometimes the spring rain has me on the run.
And wearing a hat made out of thunder.
The pressure is low and sits on my head.
A natural vice with some lovely pain.
Then going upstairs and jumping in bed.
And falling asleep to the sound of rain.
We all know what joy the sunshine can bring.
If we can make it through this gloomy spring!
date: 2/21/23
So the tide remembers what the shores let slip.
Its script etched in the bones of the skies above,
a ledger of moons and unseen gravitation tugs
where every retreat conceals a surge to return.
So the river bends but never breaks.
carving sinuous curves through stubborn spines of stone,
teaching the land that yielding is not defeat,
but the quiet strength of soft resilience.
So the wind moves, moulding the world with invisible hands,
a sculptor without form, a voice without a tongue,
lifting leaves, bending trees, carrying dust and debris,
that no eye can seize, contain, or truly behold.
So the stars recall what time dares not erase,
burning ancient truths into the dark’s endless expanse,
each flash of light a memory older than time itself,
each flicker is a refusal to yield to the void.
So the dawn reclaims what the dusk once stole,
pouring molten gold into the fractured seams of night,
tracing the fault lines where darkness splits the day,
on the horizon - a shadowy play of silhouettes.
So the mirage reveals what was never there,
a shimmering hymn to the hunger for insight,
where longing sketches phantoms in mid-air
teaching the heart its fluid illusions.
So echoes repeat only what someone has told them,
Their hollows filled with borrowed sounds
a looped refrain of captured voices
a time-lapse mirror of reflections.
So even the silence has something to say,
a language of pauses, breathed, held in suspension,
where meaning gathers in the white space between lines
and what's unsaid speaks louder for not being said.
So time does not heal, mend, nor forget
it only reshapes the ruined remains with patient hands,
turning collapse into contour and texture,
for a strangely different kind of conception.
So what we hold on to is only what we can't let go
a tether of memory, fierce in its keeping,
for what we can't let go becomes a gilded chain,
binding us tightly to the roots of what we once were.
So what we long for is what love refuses to leave,
an ember that smolders and refuses to fade,
a reaching out for what we cannot hold or cradle
that time cannot forget, nor absence erase.
So every new start grows from an ending left unsaid.
each beginning seeded in silence and ash,
for what is not spoken still shapes what becomes—
and the end is never the end, only turning the wheel.
Age twenty-one, so young...was I
I scribbled words, so time could fly
I've always liked to riddle and rhyme
So, I wrote a poem to pass my time
John Lennon's name had filled my slot
I wrote about...when he got shot
So sad a day...I'll always remember
Nineteen-eighty the eighth of December
How cruel a world- is what I wrote
But "most are kind" was in my note
Imagine- if John...were still alive today
There would be more great music...to hear and play
His songs be filled with peace and love
The moon, the earth...the skies above
I'm sure he'd write of righteousness
His poetic thoughts, most of all...I'll miss
Next forty years- I wrote no more
Till one rainy day...when it began to pour
It poured divorce- and it drenched my name
My ex, myself, ourselves...to blame
So, I grabbed my coat...and I grabbed my hat
And I moved myself- a bedroom flat
Then, Lennon's poem...came to me again
So I grabbed my pad, and I inked my pen
With so much time- beheld by me
I started writing again; poetry
So easy now, are words to find
Cathartic thoughts...now cross my mind
Catharsis Poetry Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Silent One
12/2/2020
Skies above they are true
aqua color spaces water you
Midland coastland views
sweetest shoots blueberry grapes tomatoes
Damson, Concord grape,
Elderberry Black currant, Plum, Berry black,
Blueberry does true
swish of the wind sounds views
Sound of you ripples in the waters true
So drips and falls on the grasses do
Those the breeze in the summer do
Also blue those tears
You cry it flows out your eyes
Your lips taste blueberry grapes
And raisin
When I am so sad
My fears and depression seasonal changes
From fall-winter
From Summer spring
My eyes, my mind, my heart vested so true
awesome eyewitnessing
BLUE .