Tomorrow’s Dawn
This concert-filled night thrums with slow-motion static.
No signal, no return, with no way of meeting you.
Our sense of consciousness has become an intermission,
On a winding road in the fog, as the night fades.
One moment before, when melancholy weaves an overturn
For part one.
Subconsciously, it orchestrates a Cassandra. Met with impediments, as this moment resonates.
You’ll find yourself in the scene,
As emotions rise and fall in the
Waves of our concerto.
That fades into limbo.
Only to part tremolo passages
through mirrors of moonlight, the lover’s duet
Adds a refreshing luminescence to the atmosphere.
Allegro vivace, rushing into,
Tomorrow’s dawn.
He guards the perimeter of
my newly built life,
An unappointed warden to
his long- departed wife.
His surveillance is a shadow,
heavy and profound,
As his relentless, predatory
footsteps trace my ground.
He orchestrates a calculated,
unconcerned chase,
Inserting his fixation into
every public space.
My mailbox is violated,
stripped of its defense,
By his intrusive fingers and
his desperate, dark suspense.
He intercepts my letters with
a convert, hungry gaze,
To map the secret geography
of my escaping days.
Invisible tripwires hum with
electronic sight,
As hidden lenses pierce the
sanctuary of my night.
Those cold, robotic apertures
are blinking from the trees,
Recording every movement
on his digital decrees.
He is a phantom archivist,
compiling what I do,
An omnipresent voyeur of a
life he can't renew.
This suffocating vigilance,
this voyeuristic thrall,
Has turned my independence
to an exhibition hall.
He hovers like a specter in
an inescapable grid,
Unraveling the safety where
my fragile freedom hid.
A microscopic tyranny that
never lets me be.
She spreads the butter
on a square of toast
with scratching impatience,
smearing and slapping
the hardened bread
with a dainty butter knife.
She uses a fork like a harrow
in the jelly jar,
leaving lines across the top
where she dragged it across,
then glops it on
unevenly.
She uses a fork.
because she likes to lick the bits
between the tines,
and feel the hard metal
with jelly in her mouth.
Scrape, scrape, scrape
with the butter knife again.
I love her hurrying hand
that orchestrates
this action every morning.
The cinnamon toast
is slightly burnt,
and her sleeve is damp
from the coffee spill
on the linoleum table.
A crumb clings to her jawline.
She takes a guzzle, not a sip
from her cup that says:
“The Queen of Everything”
and smiles at me, knowingly.
In the backyard, the goldfinches
returned to our feeders.
A small female
turns her beady eye
toward us
with shared understanding.
In a higher plane
Against the grain
Along a concrete path.
In search of solace
from those among us
A devastating earthly wrath
Seeking pleas in faces
Running earthly races
Too fast to offer time
Giving chase
Looking for grace
From those in the mundane and grime
I hear a voice say
“Come now, leave the fray.”
“I bear what holds you true.”
His voice, that of verse
Of choir, of song traverse
As if coming from the pews
I see the Man
Holding in his hands
He summons me my gift
A musical note
For me to dote
My life dream now adrift
My note strung together
In a song that’s now forever
Orchestrates still in my heart
Serenades in my veins
Crescendoes my plains
A distinct timbre, no man can part
I hold my note and know
What came with no ribbon, no bow
Came from He above
If im your Adam, you my Eve
We are when three conceive
God, faith and love
Colors descend enmeshed from glowing horizon,
the scarlet tinge of the sky paints the blushing land,
embroidering the tapestry of the unfurled dawn,
flushing the glorious day with vibrant hues grand.
Gleaming hours invoke joyous kaleidoscopic lilt,
birds scale the sky before they return to the nest,
sing to the mesmeric melody of the resonant colors
while the clouds design the fresco at its creative best.
Moony night orchestrates peacefully quiet rhapsody,
spreads on land silver dust through the mystique air.
On the sparkling adornment the stars shine bright,
the bejeweled sky glimmers with rare celestial flair.
Abysmal blackness consuming daylight envelopes fast
my identity as flash of twilight in your sapphire sky
where you will see me shine forever like a drifting star
when in the halcyon night I will grow wings to fly.
A new morning, bright, not in its light, but in its brilliant composure.
—quote by poet
God Orchestrates a Momentous Morning
As the sun provides a scintilla of light
at dawn, and the clouds squeeze out
slight sprinkling, atmosphere tweets
along with the daybirds and hoots
with the owl. S u d d e n downpour -
delightful the serendipitous chorus.
As Balmy
Comets Dazzle, Exhaling
Fragranced Gold; Haloed In Jasmine Kisses~
Lyrical Moon Nimbly Orchestrates
Peace, Quenching Radioactive Stars, To
Unwed Vain Woes; Xylophones Yield
Zephyrs.
orchestrates weddings
pastels, sherbets, roses too
backstage alone she weeps
In the dance of bees and flight of birds,
In flocks dancing high aloft in the sky,
lies the collective wisdom of a crowd of things,
that have, so-called swarm consciousness it seems.
But, there's no conductor or leader to guide the intricate ballet,
No single mind orchestrates the dance,
No single purpose drives the collective fray,
As the swarm twists and swirls, hither and thither they go
In a wondrous dynamic coordinated display,
That creates a harmonic crescendo performance, only swarms know.
When one outside member of the flock randomly
feels the urge to divert its path
all its nearby neighbors follow suit
Each member is aligned to the those immediately close by,
left and right, front and back,
all around them, lying close in formation.
So one twist, turns another, and another, and another.
One twirl, curls and swirls the mob in unison,
as all others follow suit.
So it's one for all, it's all for one, it's all in, in the show.
The swarm's intelligence is simply
driven by the birds, bees, fish, bugs and gnats
urge is stay, with togetherness in a crowd
to swarm and whoop it up,
in joyous flight,
Joie de vivre!
Robert Sherriff - Colour
I began to write, and it all started with a single word. Where will it take me - the second word, the third, or even a million more? Should I add some colour? Create a song about the moon and the stars, the wind and the sun, and the elegant flight of seagulls searching for scraps. What genre should this be - a crime story, fiction, or a whimsical children’s book? Or perhaps, should I convey the message to believe in yourself, to embrace self-love, smiles, and laughter? You have two hands and two feet - use them. Your brilliant mind orchestrates everything, bringing it to your fingertips. Seek forgiveness from a higher power to forgive yourself. Remember, never cast the first stone; its impact also reverberates within.
POETIC ESSENCE
a creative
impulse
on the spur
of the moment
in drops
of poetic essence
spontaneous
& prolific
from the workings
of the heart
to distil
into
another’s mind
A painting
with words
uttered
one by one
to another
an experience
of the wind &rain
of ordinary life
An
intimate invitation
to stroll within
& behind the veil,
’neath inspiration’s
triumphal arch
there
to share & participate
in the raw reality
of the creative
drive of another
A vision enhanced
by mutual
experience
of each
One thing
leads to another
translating
awareness of new
& deeper meaning
germinates
the empathy
orchestrates
the chords
as together
explore
the world
of the poetic
I Cherish Shakespeare's Tree
There's
Many
Loved Poet
Some drum along
And others fiddle
But Shakespeare the whole band
He orchestrates words in tune
And waves his baton at his words
That keeps each one in line for the choir
That's
Music
To my ears
That set the flame
For inspiring poets
To path his will on words
To take the baton further
Romeo, Juliet, Macbeth
All stand proud in Shakespeare's shoes and lore
1/16/23
Beloved Poets Poetry Contest
Sponsor-Regina Mcintosh
N/A
Break forth, o dawn! Rise up and sing the sun
from underneath the hills into the light.
Put out the crimson fires and take a run
through azure laced with lazy wisps of white.
To sleep, o moon! It’s time for you to wane
and nestle in below the canopy.
Dear child, there is no need for you to strain
or stretch. Just rest; put off that jealousy!
Stand down, o stars, and watch above them all!
Go, fade away into the bright of day,
and light again to hold them in your thrall
when dark no longer can be held at bay.
The unseen hand thus orchestrates their course,
as they, in turn, reflect their gloried source.
P-Poetry
O-Orchestrates
E-Excitement
T-Through
R-Reading
Y-Yaasss
S-Some
O-Of
U-Us
P-Prefer
B-Binding
E-Effectively
Y-Yoking
O-Others
N-Naturally
D-Describing
I-Instant
T-Treasures
S-Seen
N-New
A-Anthology
M-Memories
E-Everlasting
Contest: Poetry Soup Beyond Its Name
Sponsored By: Beata Agustin
Dated Created: 09/02/2022
When like a sullen miser, the dark skies relent
unleashing rain to pummel a parched, dry land
grey soaked clouds press forward, a grand event
whipping wind wildly like gusts of lashing strands.
The clash and clamor of a restless storm excites
ignites imagination to great heights of wonder
as lightning streaks and cracks the fragile sky
and thunder presses pounding fists to plunder.
Without reserve, wildlife gather and take cover
motherly trees engulf them with leafy arms
wildcats seek caves, foxes burrow down under
farmers herd their livestock into wooden barns.
Each day God directs His drama in the skies
He orchestrates every movement under the sun
His glory unfolds as we witness with our eyes
for He is Lord over all, He is the Mighty One.
12/28/2021
Updated on 3/23/2023
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