I’m drifting in a sky of snow
and swooping, whooping overhead.
You don't believe I'm real, I know.
I’m drifting in a sky of snow
and glaring, scaring you below.
It's just a myth, I heard you'd said.
I’m drifting in a sky of snow
and swooping, whooping overhead.
Thanks to Andrea for the pronunciation hint - LOL, I was pronouncing this form as rhyming with violet!!!
can I bring my glam-ma on the field trip? asked little Lou
Sure, said the teacher, I’ll give you another slip, here are two.
She thought the child had trouble pronouncing an R.
But when she saw his glam-ma, she knew she was a star.
Some of us are nanas or grandmas or grandmothers
This woman was a fashion statement, not like the others
She exuded sensuality, she was a fashion statement and bold.
Nothing about her said aged, seasoned, withered or old.
A day for me; strong and weird through blue
Is a day for nice atmospheric bliss to glue
Wishes, prayers and testimonies together
While pronouncing an awesome glowing weather
You can attest the touches of nature that bless today
Its opening prayer no doubt is for me in all its say
And as the trees continue to say AMEN, angels sing...
And enrich the fate of freewill that glorify my KING
My heart rejoice within me, oh buddy of young love
My lips pray of my wishes to be truly mine to live
As I age off hell with hope, grace and luck
Let nothing come what may have prayers suck
Be happy now and forever as always Wems
With God for you, future is a thing designs in poems
Be glad you've got to count this day healthily
In wisdom that path thanksgiving the route stealthily
Be joyous for love "J" shares is real
Mind not to give this head a big deal
May all good promises come to pass on time
To making me enjoy youthful ace through its prime
Glow on... wishes; stay calm to it
Lay all glee on the chill; breed for its hit
Happy birthday to Wems; a darling
Live long and dont be film stalling...
Recalling that day,
That she made me stay,
To hear her devastating staccato,
Sounding like the buzz of a mosquito.
I had to board the bus late,
That totally changed my fate.
I had gone home placated,
Just like someone forced to vacate.
As the bus moved down the street,
I continually felt a hit,
Telling me to alight,
Though in a life-threatening fright.
Ignoring the storm,
I continued my journey home.
Suddenly, the bus stopped to pick up a man—
OMG! It was that strange man.
A man who had been pronounced dead,
After being killed by the robot he made.
Screams rose from every direction,
Like a movie filled with action.
The man walked slowly toward me,
Holding a knife, pressured to be like a key—
Threatening to kill
Anyone who would not assure his will.
Fate was pronouncing me dead,
Each heartbeat skipping its thread.
For I was the only one
Who had never won
Any battle besides being born.
I plead guilty
Of saying,
My grandchild is
The most beautiful
The most wonderful
The most intelligent,
It shows, it is so evident,
Absolutely so loving,
Character and nature so giving,
Makes friends instantly
And acts independently,
And so much fun,
Takes my hand
To help build sandcastles
In the sea sand,
Likes to share,
Tells you if she feels you are wrong,
That is not fair,
And how old is this little wonder,
Who is not even afraid
Of an intense storm
With lightning and thunder,
Two years and 8 months,
Who converses so sensibly,
And comprehensibly,
I am not exaggerating,
Such a wise little mind
Who is also so truly kind,
Who tells me I am not pronouncing
“Absolutely,” Correctly
It is ab-so lut-ely yiayia, she says,
And I beam at you with pride
You are so little, yet mature
Everyday we love you more and more,
And one day when our time is up,
I hope no time too soon,
When you look up and
See a full bright moon,
And lots of glittering stars,
It’s Yiayia and pappou ,
Sending you hugs
And love galore.
YIAYIA AND PAPPOU ARE THE GREEK WORDS FOR – GRANNY AND GRANDPA
Whispers of an enchanted deer wafted through the oaks and the lilies
The exquisite forest came alive with new fantastical creatures
Roses are always doubters, so they disagreed with their thorns
But most of the flowers were open to the rumor, eager to see the deer
A gentle breeze preceded the deer into the thicket of florals
The deer was lovely, with scrolls, and beautiful nearly pastel colors
I love her, the daisies said/
A testament to the truth; daisies love everything.
The deer looked around approvingly, she enjoyed new places.
This forest was exquisitely beautiful; she could be happy here.
A brown stag with fourteen points looked her over pronouncing her queen.
She shyly told him she expected to earn her place like the other creatures.
The weeds were thrilled; a deer with integrity; this was a welcome relief.
October 24 Praises to God Bible Meditations Based on Luke 6-7
Key Verse – Luke 6:12 And it came to pass in those days, that he went out into a mountain to pray, and continued all night in prayer to God.
PRAISE BE TO GOD FOR EXEMPLIFYING
TO US THE VALUE OF PRAYER
Praise be to God for exemplifying to us
the value of prayer that:
Expresses our need for His help
Exposes our nearness to His heart
Exalts His nurturing toward our hoisting
Examines our naughtiness, hindering humility’s honesty
Expels our negativities, hurts, haughtiness and hopelessness
Luke 6:22 Praise be to the Lord for pronouncing
blessings for us while we:
Love Him with His compassionate might
Live for Him by His comfort and mercy
Let Him cover us around His marvels
Lead others to His magnificence
Learn from His miracles
Luke 7:9 Praise be to the Saviour Who
commends us of our faith:
Propelled by His Word
Propped upon His ways
Prospered with His wonders
Powered through His wisdom midst worship
Pushed toward His worthy work against worldliness. Amen!
October 10, 2024
.
james
jr.
*tittle; The dot above the lowercase
letters "i" and "j" is called a
"tittle" or superscript dot.
yesss, you're pronouncing
it correctly ')
My dear sweetheart, let's take a walk
and have a talk
Whispering sweet murmurs of forevermore
on that golden shore
Pronouncing promises of staying together
in every weather
Reminiscing the memories we made
they never will fade
Declaring delicate vows of devotion
across any ocean
Vowing to value each other for a lifetime
as two hearts singly chime
Forgetting the world and its worthless worries
throwing them to the breeze
Spending special eternity with one another
kissing away bother
Losing our lives to love once again
reviving ardour yen
Crooning comfort in crepuscular crescendo
under heaven's vast window
Pledging utter passion that's perpetual
soft avowals mutual
Holding hands and joining souls in a world without end
that's where our lives we'll spend
Apparently, we all seek for love
Every mouth pronouncing the word love
Lust, a common denominator
That word links the most with a man’s love
Lab rats expect me to live their lives
Conforming to the herd’s theme of love
Yet sheep can’t feel the same as my soul
Sheep don’t seem to understand such love
Are all sheep even placed in one group?
The Earth speaks mostly bout that love.
Yet, I don’t speak such bizarre language
Do they know there are subjects of love?
Such a subject has some dimensions.
Lust and marriage do not define love
Getting engaged? Boasting on media?
Does that define the meaning of love?
Having a family? Those kisses?
Do they determine factors of love?
Most mammals crave for that selection
Yet, craving for it is not true love
True love is yourself with your values
That determines the roads of your love.
Pronouncing gives me stress.
With syllables to chance,
could ‘monchielle’ be French?
I feel I can’t advance,
a poilu in a trench.
Pronouncing gives me stress.
Italians insist
words like ‘monchielle’,
devoid of hidden twist,
rhyme with ‘vermicelli’.
Pronouncing gives me stress.
Three syllables, no more?
A word like ‘monchielle’,
by making me keep score,
presents a living hell.
Pronouncing gives me stress.
I openly confess;
though anxious to impress,
I find this verbal chess
affords me no success.
The way they come to me
the way that they’re heard
And written in haste
whether rich or absurd
Each vowel from the anthem
of consonant rhymes
Pronouncing arrhythmic
with hopes to define
Religiously deigning
the blood from my pen
New veins on the parchment
—alive from within
(Dreamsleep: August, 2023)
an abstract be...
a bs track
a bs rack
a beast rack
a beaster act
a bee's track
a bee's track ed
ab's are act
a 'b' stir act
a beast are act
a bs stir act
a best track
a bs tea are act
stan's sand
Coldness up layers Warmth
Sanctuary, in the early light and misty dawns
balance appearing untouched by fear and
doubt that crumbles in front of us in sudden
disillusionment.
Falseness, and bareness, capture the tears of another
pronouncing love in an unfamiliar way
confronting each day with uncertainty, containing
indifference finding in time, life was never
the way we thought it to be.
Don't dismiss the truth spoken, in times of distance
and knowledgeable souls, understand words
spoken in grace.
Awareness mingles among patience, flirting in
fields of tranquility, mystical journeys, and abandoned thoughts
withdrawn from artificial stimulants astounded by fate's
recognition of banishment.
Coldness up layers warmth unrecognized and unexplained
unfamiliar mannerisms.
Copyright ? DerenaBree( All Rights Reserved)
The Pope is
the Bishop of Rome
is the Vicar of Father Christ (Jesus) on earth
The visible Head of the Church
Successor of St. Peter
The supreme ruler of all Christians
He is the supreme judge in all matters of faith
Morals
In pronouncing upon which he may exercise unerring
His office is called the pontificate (or papacy)
As possessor of the keys to the kingdom of heaven
Gifted with unerring or certainty
The Pope keeps the doctrine of the faith pure
Acts as the center of unity in the Church
His office is a royal one
As represented by the triple tiara traditionally worn by the popes
Poem Written: 10:12a.m.
Time Written: 10:12a.m.
Poetry Form: Free Verse
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