Recycling Poems

Recycling

As dawn sets in,

A new day begins,

Born into darkness,

Free of sin.

Freedom within,

Hidden by a lie,

Your not suppose to try,

To step outside the line.

Divine by design,

We rise and shine,

Using time to define,

The day you resign.

As moments intertwine,

You combine experience,

Souls get ready to advance,

Given another chance.

Choosing an entrance,

The perfect instance,

A new existence begins,

Riding the cycle again.

Rising each

Autumn Glory

Wonderful autumn colours
Enhance the branches,
Shrubs and bushes,
Hedges, trees.

The leaves have done
Their summer work
Of cleansing air
And feeding vegetation.

As daylight shortens
Leaves downwards sail
Recycling 
Into needy soil.

A glorious process
God’s design
Without which
All of poor mankind
Would lifeless sink
And see no more 
His glory 
In autumn.

Recycling

There is so much about our universe I don’t know
So much I don’t know if I’m even capable of knowing
One could even debate that the amount of knowledge I lack 
Is infinite 

Feeling something weighing 
On my consciousness 
I read about stars
How they begin 
And how they end
Did you know that the bigger the star,

kefalonia dreaming

all the bins were out
skies had turned to charcoal grey
as I grabbed my coat

walking in the rain
my mind on fiscardo bay
where its warm and dry

couldn't help dreaming
of hot grecian sun in may
on recycling day

A Note To My Sartorial Self

This poem is penned to my sartorial self,
about wardrobe clothes on the rail or the shelf,
replica football shirts, too tight, too small,
threadbare cord trousers, I don’t wear at all,
now for recycling with all the rest,
while saving my smart shoes and suit just for best,
too many old clothes that I’ll never wear,
though some could be fixed

Recycling

Seasons come and go -- 
How ends the fillings?

Recycled we know:

rain back to the sky,
leaves to soil,
sandy runoff, particle
debris, for oysters to make
pearly luxuries -- 

snow on mountains
for short spell may stay
or a billion days may lay – 

a store of time
in the icy clime
of glaciers, 

and the earth
changes rotation; 

sun, its incidence~
cooling and warming

New Life Cycle

 The old barn
condemned;
fresh wood
for creative juices;
carved and whittled into
the most refined
picture frames,
you’ve ever
ever imagined
to don
a fine portrait...
condemned
to a new life.

The Recycling Process

Where will your children pay you a visit? My sister asked.
She is creeped out because I will have no headstone.
No one lives in the cemetery I tell her. 
She nods “I know, but….”
At this point I know that she kind of thinks that people do.

This is where I will be when my poems and my

Recycling Bins

In the suburbs, once a week, 
Recycling bins go out
And wait there, curbside, for the trucks
To pass by on their route.

A glance inside can give a hint
About the different things
The neighbors choose to purchase
And the refuse that it brings.

The water bottles, magazines,
The papers, boxes, cans,
Perhaps the same as yours or ones
Of which you aren’t fans.

The

Recycling

Ready to see the world with cerulean eyes? 
Every piece and every shade of blue 
can make a change together;
You create a royal design with each of us
cooperating and coloring collectively;
Learning from the past to save the future
indigo strokes push us forward;
Now we have a new set of primary values,
going green for a clean turquoise

Let's All Do Our Part

Regardless of what some folks are saying
The weather is changing, climate’s askew
Major storms threaten atypical places,
Is there nothing at all we can do?

Let’s begin by developing a new respect
For this planet all of us call our home,
Consider cutting back on fossil fuels
Using fewer plastics, learning to defoam.

We can resolve to reduce pollution
Be more careful with

Great Recycling Retransition

Icons are funny things,
she thought.

Heaven feels like a warm light circle
when we are thriving
and more like a cold dark triangle
of weaponed tipping points
against me
and mine
competitively not communicating
when we are barely surviving
above the mortally terrifying bottom
of God's most worthless non-elite.

Ancient right-brained heaven
a circle of prominent light
shining down on a mountainous YangEarth
of triangulating Power
to discern Win/Win co-empathic

Recycling: Why's- Wise

we are creatures of...
a time lapse

that digest only in fractions...
about 1/14rh of each second

while 13/14ths escape us...
with respect cause and effects

we love the curiosity of cats but...
lay claim to some inner self image

echoes of creations mythological analogies...
from surviving untold 'centuries of millennias'

of change at least as intelligently as cats because...
human kind survives by asking the

Grave Recycling

Installed in cargo pockets,
A vivid-glass, a little green bag,
A pod, silverplatted case,
Which Guca-hides, Pallmalls, and a bic.

You're barfoot in tombstones.
You're father, son vulture slumped,
You befor etched letters on rock.

"Him", a glutton of Karma,
Rein ended, your fourteenth year,
Now, belly-heavy, smoking his brand.
On a Drive-by, visit home.

You're showing Gene shooter,
You're an arsenic lane of skin,
You tremble-digits, in

Mother Natures Recycling Center

over and over they tumble, colorful specters playing

the dying leaves of autumn have one last chase, before passing.

they will sleep in painted canvas ground, recycling themselves by spring.

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