Jack Frost may bite one's fingers, nose and toes
but he's an artist, as everyone knows
Decorating windows and hedgerows
adding glitz and glamour to winter's rose.
Jack Frost only appears in wintertime
inspiring poet's poetic rhythm and rhyme
Doesn't earn a penny, or even a dime
never changing, Jack is still in his prime.
Once, in my garden, Jack Frost did appear
made a bush look alike a chandelier
I'll not forget, the memory so dear
that lives on in my mind from year to year.
Jack Frost’s filigree is pure poetry
with that I expect most folk would agree.
Betrayed by our muse,
seems we’re doomed to lose
but then blushing heart
resurrects lost art.
Soul’s poetic rhythm
in mind-body prism,
flows when we let go
ego’s need to know.
Universal mind
and heart when aligned,
births a divine spark,
that lights up the dark.
To invoke such grace,
steps to soul retrace,
making our heart pure
and love’s touch demure.
Blank for poetry
For the first time, I’m blank
No poetic rhythm
or vocabulary connoisseurship
Just plainly and utterly blank
I’m searching and scouring
Not finding the right words
Or any words at all
I’m just...blank
Maybe that’s what this does to you
This way of being deliberately broken
With such a piercing pain
it echoes through the shards of sobs
As I watch the shreds of ashes
Of all I’d based my short-lived life on
Stain the same palm of hands
That worked so hard to appease
Touching the ever so intricate part of me
Shattered
Weeping for the part that held
Every single thread of my dedication
Woven into the most validating piece of clothing
Warm and secure it embraced
Like a heated coat in the cruel winter
And I sat there, blank
Lips sealed with grief
For a self that made the psyche rest
And now I stand worthless and wordless
Blank.
Poetic rhythm is natural like the waves
That come and go on beaches , wet the sand
The sea is always moving as is love
The unconscious is a language dark engraved
We cannot read unless we can descend
To rhythms as natural as the rippling waves
Rich and strange so different from above
What we find is not what we intend
The sea is always moving as is love
What’s in authentic nature that should save
As colours interact, by brush to blend?
Poetic rhythm is natural like the waves
Yet ,in a poem, what part of us can bathe
The mind , the heart, the soul, the writing hand
The sea is always moving as is love
The golden seas, the oceans can command
The ships that sail, the whale, the hidden ends
Poetic rhythm is natural like the waves
The inner sea is moving , tender love
Heaven’s orchestra.
The concert begins.
Symphony played.
Instrumental composition,
Springs violins sounds,
Trumpets call,
The earth rejoices.
Woodwind blows,
Tempo vibrating love.
Dawn chorus! Awakens,
Clashing cymbals,
Bluebells chime.
Beats with poetic rhythm.
The audience watch.
As crescendo of colour,
Blooms.
Wendy Jae
friendships take.....time
an investment of emotions
sacrifice
determination not to let
things slide
intentional
it's all intentional
perhaps unconventional
in a world where
look out for Number 1
is the best tune to hum
true friendships
don't happen in a void
"I don't have the time"
not the right rhyme
for friendship's poetic rhythm
Friendships take...love
not the conditional kind
but unconditionally blind
to the faults
and seeing the sincere
hidden inside
a friend will confide
and abide
in friendship's sphere
dear and near
Friendships take...visits
drop by to say, "Hi!"
and share a piece of pie
to laugh and cry
and watch the days go by
friendships are forever
didn't you know?
when your soul is on show
affection can grow
friendships take me
friendships take you
always and forever new
a true friend
it's so true
is someone
so perfectly and exactly and endearingly like you!
Dedicated to Richard L on his birthday!
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