Calm is your nature so fair
O maiden of meticulous metaphor
like the white lilies in the garden, balms soft air,
amongst autumn’s signature rustling leaves
upon dried maples once green
In warm tones of terracotta her spirit roams free,
on earth she manipulates the mariposa monarca
butterfly migration in Michoacán’s fir forests,
clusters color trees with golden orange tones
trimmed in black lace philigree
skies are filled with beating wings
like a flurry of a rain's pitter-patter
O butterfly if you flutter by, I’ve left you aster
for your returns refuel in my yearning yard
Tonantzin our venerable Mother, goddess virginius
of virtue of vim and vigorous miss
Q3 keeper of chaos and order,
I’m forever thankful for your service ~
MIRRORING SELF IN THE GLORY OF GOD
In every mirror,
You should see
God’s beautiful creature
Looking back at you…
Look into a mirror, and doubt not yourself!
That mirror reflection cannot ever match,
The beauty and warmth from within you:-
For within you is the spitting image of God’s will,
Of the true beauty He created for you to be; thus,
Never ever doubt who and whose you are:-
Know that you are a child of God who can’t be doubted.
Though you may not yet have become the child of your will,
Remember, the time of all things to be is in the will of God:-
Know that in time immemorial, His will has always triumphed!
Thus, be not dismayed, disillusioned, or in disbelief of God and self:-
Refuel your spirit, and give God the glory, for your coming, divine destiny!
My rare good brother
Thank God's grace for another
Year aside bother
Candle like cigar
Facilitating this far
Light each shining star
God brought you anew
Of much crying raining dew
Cum glory long view
Into yielding year
Of pleasing grace; seed career
Beyond time unclear
I dedicate all
To the going; smooth-rough's call
May you never fall
Reading your chest box
I only read paradox
Which assumption locks
But how I do feel
Hoping that my praying kneel
Gets barriers unseal
That worries be gone
Be left off sorrow and morn
Like newly Christ born
Happy birthday boy
Celebrate grace and enjoy
Atmospheric joy
Found within the soul
Love awakens to make whole
Which hate can't control
My own precious jewel
Life might be tough and seem cruel
We would be refuel
To stand it and strive
In Him found what life deprive
Of us not to thrive
Sing series of song
Let the weak become so strong
And dream new along
Feed unto your doubt
Out of nothing, a turnout
Of shocking layout
More gracious life's smile
To screen historical mile
More than written file
The dive girl foodie,
sick nomz on a paper plate.
No reason needed,
just go out for a new bite.
Every day’s a holiday.
Celebrate a smile,
surviving the daily grind.
You made it to six,
it’s taco and salsa time!
Refuel and take a load off.
That pizza just called,
a friend wants to meet tonight.
Can you come over?
Nothing happened just to talk,
break this bread, and lift me up?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The dash says -10°, please refuel,
but the squirrel merely laughs~
her paws grip the wheel,
a trail of acorn shells
spitting from the tailpipe.
The wind is a dentist’s drill
through her fur, but
she’s got style,
she’s got nuts,
she’s got a convertible.
The trees watch in dismay~
Look at that idiot!*
The squirrel grins back,
tossing a half-eaten walnut
at winter’s face.
Let the humans huddle.
She’s got the heater cranked
to glory,
and the radio tuned to
KNUTS105 FM.
Some call it coffee and a walk.
For me? It’s silent seclusion.
The time I refuel with passion
relishing there’s no need to talk.
My mind drifts off to a deadlock
that action forced to illusion.
Some call it coffee and a walk,
For me? It’s silent seclusion.
A phone full of so much ad-hoc
it runs through me, a delusion.
Left inspired by such profusion,
I can only write with a gawk.
Some call it coffee and a walk.
Dropping Flowers, Blades Of Grass, And Us
Like flowers droop
but refuse to die
from the heat,
like tanned fields
subsumed in the struggle
to survive and keep
the flow of transpiration,
like the trodden blades of grass
pushing through sidewalk holes
to capture the cosmic energy
that fuels them onward
the victory they seek
to be free,
we, like all of nature,
must continue to travel
the jubilee road
riddled with imposing holes
and nullifying roadblocks
that causes us to stop
by the roadside
once and a while,
to check our engines,
water up,
and refuel our spirits
with divine wisdom
and guidance,
navigating us onward
and upward
on the paved footprinted way
our ancestors have left us
in the never ending passageway
to freedom, justice, and equality:
thus, let us buckle up,
and with eyes on the prize,
hit the pedal
along the remaining
bumpy way
of our liberation sojourn:-
Sometimes our best intentions
miss the impossible target-perfection
Sometimes our best efforts
leave us hopeless and contemplating defection
Sometimes our goal
of being everything to everybody
misses the target so that we feel
we give very little to anybody
Oftentimes we must stop
to refuel our bodies and our minds
so that when we are engaged in lifting up
we do not leave ourselves behind
Sometimes our best intentions
must be reexamined through the lens of gratitude
Sometimes our best efforts
must be weighed on the scales of self-affirming latitude
Sometimes we must pause
to just give ourselves and others grace
so that we empower our vision
to redefine the target for this race
a perfect
place
a peaceful
space
for a time of
reverent renewal
a moment of silence
to refuel
the trees
soften the light
creating harmonies
of shadows and hues bright
fragrant floral aromas
float in the air
in this small sanctum
of solitude fair
birds sing happily
in the trees
as if a church choir
praising God with ease
thanking Him for the
grace given
to this little
garden of heaven
look and listen and
allow His presence
to fill our hearts
in its small world essence
the gazebo of prayer
helps connect with Providence
a beacon for all of us
in providing guidance
a shelter, a haven
a refuge, a retreat
getting lost in this gazebo
where my God I greet
Busy Monday
Energy rise
Start for work.
Tuesday, Wednesday
A bit too tired
Need exercise.
Thursday, Friday
Gas up, refuel
Recharge once more.
Run Saturday
Mall afternoon
Sunday's all mass.
And leaving all else, they debate on lunch.
To one, lunch time was waste, hence, break-less munch.
The other felt, lunch-less
Would no new glory bless
To UK, nor hoary
Return to old glory,
Lunch is a place mid-stream--
Island to which all swim,
If cooler breaks are fine,
Need for lunch-break’s genuine,
For, from stomachs come working peoples’ punch.
____________________________
Happenings |20.12.2024|humour, food
Poet’s note: The prime minister and the leader of opposition are usually at logger heads, and British parliament is no exception. A few days back they exchanged their verbal punches on lunch and need to break for it. No doubt, no lunch is free--at home nor work nor anywhere, still…. This ditty is in full favour of lunchbreaks that refuel and decompress.
Gene went for a dip in the local pool
His swimsuit was loose, he thought it was cool
Had four beers, he felt mellow
Soon Gene turned the pool yellow
He’d turn it brown too ~ if he could refuel
~ Entry in 'A Funny Summer Limerick' Contest ~
Sponsor: Tania Kitchin
August 01 2024
Life has its ups and downs
its highs and lows
Barren stretches
endless plateaus
News of births bring renewal
those of death give us pause
to contemplate mortality and refuel
of unequal length, the straws we draw
Death holds promise of renewal
Beauteous autumn stirs our soul
God enlivens life pulse dual
Shape of form shifts, yet we feel whole
Take a cue from the fallen leaf
Death holds promise of renewal
Let’s outgrow conditioned belief
With love and light, heart refuel
Our heart contains a prized jewel
To cognise it, simply be still
Death holds promise of renewal
On ego death, voids within fill
Autumn reveals resurrection
New life springs without a duel
With God’s love form a connection
Death holds promise of renewal
As the day ends, the sun bids its last adieu.
Spreading paint across the sky with ruddy hue.
An emblazon show of crimson, fierce and bright,
Melds into orange-yellow, a warm delight.
Then the hues fade to a pink and purple blend,
As the day's final performance nears its end.
The sky echoes reflection on lake and sea,
Sky as conductor, makes retrospection plea,
That hushes you and me, the birds, lands, wildlife.
To calm the mood, hush all the turmoil and strife.
To prepare the world for sleep and renewal,
To revive the spirit, recharge, refuel.
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