I remember the first night l thanked the moon…
The night I let my gratitude soar….
I remember how the moon smiled down at me
and asked, “What are you thanking me for?”
“I’m grateful”, I told her, “how from the mountaintops
and down in through the trees….
every night without fail you shine your light on me.”
“And how when I finally say goodnight…
knowing you are shining down from up in space
I always fall asleep…with a smile on my face.”
Since then I thank the moon every night…
for constantly shining through…
knowing every time I thank her…
she is smiling too.
January thaw,
the sun is shining now that
snow-filled clouds have disappeared.
The telephone rings,
but again it is not you
calling to see I’m still here.
Do you still live there
where mountaintops touch blue sky,
with valleys full of flowers?
City streets are filled
with rambunctiousness and noise,
your laughter is far away.
The letter I sent
has been returned, now unknown
as if you faded away.
Long ago you smiled
as you read the poetry
written for you, my lost muse.
Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.—my noble brother of freedom and peace,
Peace and justice ringing from mountaintops like consecrated chapel bells,
Bells resounding high and low across the hilltops and the valleys below,
Below, where the meek and humble gathered to sow their seeds of faith.
Faith, small as a mustard seed, yet mighty enough to move great mountains—
Mountains of despair overturned through the pursuit of equality and justice for all,
All God’s created people, without exception, endowed with equal human rights,
Rights granted by the Creator to all humanity in our blessed pursuit of happiness.
Happiness and freedom flowing from God’s love into the heart of humanity—
Humanity awakened to equal justice, righteousness, dignity, and emancipation,
Emancipation and representation earnestly sought, courageously fought, and won,
Won through radiant visions of hope shedding luminescent light upon the weary.
Light filled with saving grace from above, restoring strength to the brokenhearted,
Blessings from the Creator—bestowed upon those fashioned for everlasting love.
© Dr. Joseph S. Spence Sr., Ph.D., Epulaeryu Master. All Rights Reserved. December 1, 2025.
my mom’s not pushing up daisies
having gone to her eternal rest in Spring
her restful place is where her soul has gone
back to earth with its raindrop-moss
(springy, as if for a tiny bunny
or hallucination-size “wabbit”)
off track, the violet urn
next to the frame
that holds my mother’s face
and my attention
confused by the unscattered ashes
contained. she’s there
or elsewhere
or both ways
dizzy the thoughts
and my nephew
on and over a couple
mountaintops where is he
particles placed, displaced
proper, improper
does it matter
it all matters
and the occasional shock
of a true blue viewing
passing by the other room
while relative remains
seem sentiments of denial
until a video snaps
you out of it
suddenly appears
the ghost
or a huge photograph
reminds you
why your there
in that chair
listening to the air
breathing
To The Mountaintops where dreams are Born
where Higher Powers and Ideals Birth Forth,
where Raging Winds Dance to the Great Dance Of Life
and in that Moment, you know that you're Alive,
and the Rivers of Salvation Serenade the Soul
For you have arrived, Up The High Road
The learning curve is much too steep;
I’m stuck at the bottom
Staring at mountaintops,
Swept away by rivers,
Eroding with the skeletons
Whose bones faded so long ago;
Count me with the corpses—
I died before I lived
Kissed by the noose in the water
As I walked off the final step
And forgot how to float.
Bottomfeeder, nonsensebreeder,
The task was learning how to swim—
But the pieces were pushed too far
For me to breathe or do much else;
I merely drowned instead,
Hoping my grave would serve
As a memory—but
Even I forgot my own eulogy.
With falls last remnants dangling- winter touches
Scarecrows and masked children say "So long" for now
First flakes of white make the snow globe come to life
Sleigh-riders sit tight
The evergreens sparkling their pines from the moon
On the lake the ice-fishers trout takes the bait
Mountaintops of snow like icing on cupcakes
Firepits in flame
Leafless trees of empty bird and squirrel nests
Foot stomps from bucks while they're chasing does in heat
White rabbits run- the coyote on the prowl
Broke branches crackle
So gradual, the change that comes about
Enhanced by wind chimes seemingly, non-stop.
Pink painted sunsets draw cool evenings out
'til golden moons melt down from mountaintops.
Each passing day green slowly disappears
Migrating geese become a common sight
Browns, reds and yellows magically appear
Emerging out of nowhere overnight.
Reluctantly, we pack our summer dreams.
Football becomes the topic of the day.
As falling leaves begin to cover streams
Long sleeves and sweats will be wardrobe mainstays.
Long days grow shorter much to our chagrin
September falls and autumn comes again.
9/8/2024
Daniel Turner
I stood alone on the sandy southern shore
watching sunset dim with a sense of languor.
Soon, of its luminance there'd be little trace
but 'til then, I'd enjoy its warmth on my face.
Hues of cobalt blues, sanguine, and honeyed gold
painted gloaming skies; a canvas to behold.
Reflections of mountaintops and rippling sea
exposed Nature's exquisite beauty to me.
Sea gulls were feeding as the sun descended.
How swiftly daylight and dusk became blended.
I captured all my thoughts with paper and pen
and wrote a Sonnet so I'd remember when ~
I watched the sun languidly bid me goodnight.
Then faded away as I welcomed twilight.
Oh, my heart has divine, samba-musical, dream treats,
I sit here tapping in golden shod, tanned, perfumed feet.
Unwilling to share my dreams, lest they from me, disappear,
Dreams are my guiding lights by which my poetry to steer.
These globes hold my snow-glistening mountaintops to glide,
Hope-filled crystal balls, deepest wishes, reside and sleep inside.
Perchance on a warm beach all tanned, with doves soaring above,
Sipping crushed, cold mango-ice, and without trying, came my love!
3/22/2024
Black and White – 3-18-24
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Black and White
Black and white come in focus -
Absent of prime –
A slice of life exposed through the lens,
A flash-dance of story, a masquerade ball.
No sunrise of sepia - clouds absent of platinum,
Lavender drained from lilacs, sky robbed of blue,
Red-orange stolen from sunsets.
Spindrift frozen like frost,
Candlelight shines undimmed and eternal,
Stark either or – life or not -
In shadows, snow or mountaintops,
Ghosts on boughs of ebony wear gossamer.
Wrinkles and lines banished from smiles of youth
While the lens loves some visages
As eyes without color look back from albums.
Positive to negative. Negative to positive.
Photoplay in wedding smiles or tears of a clown
Moments of the soul held in tenderness
Protected in scrapbooks of black and white.
In Tule Valley, hooves strike the sagebrush-speckled desert floor,
it is there between the rippling mountains that stocky legs push off
the ground, and take to a gallop;
A momentum so palpable it resonates with each strike of the earth,
in this valley where dusting light rain falls across the mountaintops.
They gallop with volition and stamina,
here where sunlight blasts the parched grounds, and tufts of rice grass sway,
in the hot breeze.
It is a place devoid of human residents, a place where wild horses run
and rabbits leave their tracks in the rippled sand.
It is a part of the world where the stars at night sparkle
with marvelous intensity, a place where one can lay on the sand
look up at the sky and almost see eternity...
In the exhilarating dance of life, we twist and turn, eagerly embracing the highs and lows. With every step, we are swept away by the enchanting sway, knowing that God is always there to guide our way.
As we ascend to the majestic mountaintops, our spirits soar, reaching for the sky with uncontainable joy. The thrill of the journey fills our hearts, and even in the darkest valleys, we find solace in God's unwavering presence, a guiding spark that lights our path and shield our way.
Through the intricate twists and turns of life, we learn to place our trust in God's divine plan. It is in His plan that we find comfort, and it is through our faith that we must navigate the unpredictable moments. His love shines brightly in every single moment, illuminating our way through life's magnificent design.
So, as we face the twists and turns that lie ahead, we can feel the palpable presence of God, His loving grace surrounding us. Whether we find ourselves on the highest peaks or in the deepest valleys, we can rest assured that His hand is there, gentle and kind, guiding us every step of the way.
Its sun is brilliant bright and bonny bold,
a lustrous light, largesse in satin sheen.
Intake of breath sensory manifold,
for a warm, welcoming autumnal scene.
Aurora-colored leaves paint the timber
where mountaintops all dress in ermine capes.
Watch crimson clover wave its arms limber
and mighty pines show off their slender shapes.
Delight in unique season's sights and smells,
wintersweet, artic polemonium.
Rejoice in grandeur of the season's spells.
It’s all pumpkin spice pandemonium.
For all God's tireless efforts let us praise
with appreciative heart and voice upraise.
If I called your name
(Our hearts beat in time)
By Michelle Morris
24/08/2023
If I called your name
Into the big, wild Universe
Would you hear it, darling?
Would you hear my voice?
Our connection is timeless
Our souls are infinite and divine
I love you and you love me
Our hearts beat in time
Despite the miles and timezones
Despite everything under and over
Bridges and storms
And sorrows
We will share our moments
We will survive and thrive
Into the future but enjoying
Our now... our present... our gift...
If I called your name
Standing on mountaintops
Or under the ocean's depths
Communicating beyond space
Would you feel it, honey?
Would you know it, angel?
For we are one heart
Beating over timezones
We are one soul
Sharing this one lifeline
Across lifetimes
Until we become starbursts
Our connection is timeless
Our souls are infinite and divine
I love you and you love me
Our hearts beat in time
© Michelle Morris, 2023
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