Middle of the dark night
New moon uncloaks the stars
My wife snores gently in bed
My border collies resting comfortably
The warm night entices me
I stand in the dark yard
The heavens are spread before me
A lone streetlamp glows in the distance
Its ghostly light a small beacon
Yet it does not disturb me
In the middle of the woods I sit
Becoming lost
The world for me no longer a hit
Pure Peace at no cost
Watching the gentle water flow
Completely still
I am happily hiding from the everyday show
On cool, quiet hill
A smile of soft joy creeps up on me
With Happy Thoughts of You
A familiar white dove peeps in the form of She
Totally alleviating my sudden feelings of blue
'It's Alright, My Dear Son
Mom Will AllWays Be Here
Put Your Right Hand To Your Heart
And I Will Heal You With The Warmth Of My Love
You Will Never Have To Worry
You Will Never Have To Be Afraid
For I Will ForEver Love You Till The Pain Goes Completely Away'
My tears now flow as the familiar white dove waves goodbye
I wave back with a now normal sadness as she flies back into the skies so high
Reality returns but the smile of soft joy does remain
I turn to slowly walk back towards reality....calmer and much more sane
Thank you, oh familiar white dove, for once again diffusing the bomb
Sweet Memories In Pink And Green Files Will AllWays Sweetly Saturate This Special Day......HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY, DEAR SWEET MOM.....
I am full of the world to come,
full of the world that has passed.
If I leak words
It is because of the language
that has ruined my mind.
My tongue is unstable
it will weave a truth within a lie,
in this way a fool may appear wise.
I met a woman once
who had the same disability as I.
she could only wrap a lie within a truth.
We drank well together,
but I could not love her,
there can only be one poet
in my past and future worlds.
you are allowed to bring two items with you
and then you’ll leave forever
we’ll be back, that’s all they said before they left
night was underway, things were always underway
nothing seemed to start or end
every time was in the middle
but this night was pretty
when I found myself already there
looking up at a lightshow sky
the outside, my only companion
when movement emerged between the points
of far off pinpricks and patterns
then colour began and shapes shorty after
as the swirls and spirals drew closer
I don’t know exactly when the blackness
changed fully to tessellates of neon-like blocks
but amidst my threatening tremble
one landed too closely
it was all a bit too beautiful and mouth-dropping
even after all this time, a part of me is expecting
them to return as promised
even though I’m awake now
but so vivid was that night
I often wonder what two items I should choose
just in case
Weariness can settle into our lives
But praise be to God the Father who
Can show up right in the middle of dreariness
The Awaker is the Maker of Heaven and Earth
With Him all things are possible
He is the ‘Now’ God
We Bow to His Name right in the middle of dreariness
God shows up
To help, enlighten, solidify and support His people
Weariness can settle into our lives
But praise be to God the Father who
Can show up right in the middle of dreariness
Mark Frank
Copyright 2024
sitting in deer stand
watching waiting to see deer
prance around the stand
In the middle of the night,
In the plush comfort of a place called home
I lay down with my parents by my side
I sleep with eyes wide open
Fixed on the white ceiling above
On the shadows cast by a dim bulb
In a way it reflects my mind, i think
Filled with white noise amidst black calm
In the middle of the night,
A solitary tear falls down my cheek
Silently, slowly, hesitantly
As if it is testing the darkness for the eye of an onlooker
I make no attempt to brush it off
For it is the middle of the night
And it is the only time i can let myself be.
There, I stood in the middle of Nowhere
Staring at a figure I thought I knew somewhere
Words lingered but sounds not dared
I and the figure a glance we shared
I felt my resolve weaken, my body sway
As she met my gaze, acknowledging in her own way
At first, she pretended not to care
Like a toddler, my heart was racing out of fear.
This trance continued playing on repeat
Her hands slips and landed on my lips
This session continued on a slow beat
I awoke bewildered, with a lingering heat.
In hindsight, it felt vivid, surreal,
Like the taste of an evening meal.
But like this poem's theme
It was all but a dream.
Have you ever been so lucky as to have seen
in the middle of the night
a kaleidoscope of butterflies? How beautiful the sight
of violets, blues, black on white
and the royal monarch’s hues.
If you should be so fortunate,
please go outside and let yourself believe
there’s music in the air as the rabble flutters.
Notice that the butterflies are dancing.
The moonbeams shining on them
can create a melody of sweet tranquility.
Listen very carefully; you can hear it.
Fling yourself into the night and join the throng.
If you let your imagination soar,
you too can be a butterfly twirling and swirling
in the middle of the night
when the butterflies dance to the moon’s song.
In The Middle Of The Night, When The Butterflies Dance To The Moon's Song
"At the mid of midnight butterflies upward dance, to reach for the moon for spiritual longevity." quote by poet
Lead-in to and conceal an amorous scene
In the middle of the night with the heaven’s light.
Wherein lies the encouraging butterflies
Into dance to the moon’s song in full sight.
Breeze pushing through full of laughter,
Tease in playful serenade shuttering leaves.
Seize in the shadows of flirtatious romance;
Tweeze their velvet wings, a coquettish grace receives.
11/19/2023
“In the middle of the night, when the butterflies dance to the moon's song”
~ Anoucheka Gangabissoon ~
In a tiny cove nestled across from the sea,
The children of Neverland venture happily.
In the middle of the night as owls take to flight,
The moon sings a hushed lullaby soft and light,
And butterflies twirl and dance to the song.
Fireflies and pixies join in the fun following on.
The children of Neverland who will never grow old.
The earth is their playground to have and to hold.
They are the children whose spirits are free.
Taken too early, now they stay young for eternity.
Their day is our night, always keeping out of sight.
They giggle and rejoice. Their laughter can’t be heard.
We mortals, long to hear them, we can’t hear a word.
The secret of their playtime is held by the One above,
Nurtured, cared for and comforted by His tender Love.
The children of Neverland, in our hearts will stay.
A parent that’s lost a child should be glad they still play.
In a tiny cove nestled across from the sea,
The children of Neverland venture happily.
No one notices any other in the middle of times square
This was told to me by my cousins Tommy, Lee and Lair.
I bet if I sent out an enormous suited up grizzly bear
They would scream and run and yell, not simply stare.
So we found a willing grizzly bear and offered him sticky honey.
He loved the idea of this sweet treat much more than blah money.
Hundreds of New Yorkers marched past him not noticing him at all.
For the first time, the bear said, I felt tiny, ignored and kind of small.
A poem is a
freezing
inner conscience
someone threw
by a stone
as it breaks
It's the record of those groans.
An event.
sitting on a rock in the middle of a gentle river
collecting my thoughts and taking in the pain
crying tears of regret and not caring about the relentless falling rain
i continuously wonder 'what if' until i begin to aggressively shiver
repetition used to be a friend of mine right along with a home
nothing exists freely without her there
with her influence and inspiration i always knew what it was to care
now in the here and now of this modern life i needlessly roam
the love of my life was called home by The King of Kings last year
her decline came so quickly and swift was its cruel cold hand
now all in life is so colorless and extremely bland
i pray to God to bless me with some type of bravery because i now constantly live in fear
The conflict in your life is there for a reason
Do not ignore the season of a storm
Recollect your thoughts
Do not get caught up in the mix because
The lessons are there to fix your character
Voices can hurt you
Choices can fix you
First we fall
And then we get back up
Because we were not born to give up!
We will face wall
The storm will teach us to stand tall
As our character is stretched
We see our limitations
Then we realize through
Our anger that we want to win
But this can only happen when
We understand our hunger for victory
Voices can hurt you
Choices can fix you
Mark Frank
Copyright 2023
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