Blue
Waves
usher
ocean dream
enchanting ripples,
whose hypnotic spell oozes charm,
for yellow dawn pearl-eyed first light riser’s coastal fog,
stunned by the heavenly turquoise canvass of tidal moss fleck swoon and swirl gyrations
On
shore
visions
magic sweep
splashy catalyst
at the cusp of exotic veil
uncanny blissful streams tantalising ebb and flow
a lure for august swimmer mesmerised by mammoth currents awash with silver froth
Gust
of
saline
grain torrents
that skim cliff edges
taunt emboldened in situ bard,
where farsighted jostling amid picturesque quaint beach,
spurs bright imaginary floodgates, a deluge of opulent visual fantasm
Blue
Waves
usher
ocean dream
enchanting ripples,
whose hypnotic spell oozes charm,
for yellow dawn pearl-eyed first light riser’s inner fog,
stunned by a heavenly turquoise canvass of tidal moss fleck swoon and swirl gyrations
I rose early today
before the dream’s end
tried to hold on to its tail
before shaken loose,
watching the Nightly
race off, to dive into
the fading dark at the
horizon.
Dreams are like that:
like fairy dust
and alien visions
avoiding analysis
like, where was I
before the first slap
before the first cry
before being bathed
dry, then placed in the
trembling arms of my
mother, beholding her
labored miracle
parts of me
feeling freely sentient
while others feeling
entirely programmed
like cycles of sun
orbits of seasons
roots of life, the ones
I faithfully guess at
some of their branches
of existence quite explainable
while others seeming green-less
tentacles
drawing me toward
the large-dusty-mouth
of the Silence Grave
A lot of us are not great risers
many a morning we hate that alarm
wish we could throw it out the window
but there was one with a mighty arm
Think on Jesus living 2000 years ago
imagine you're a disciple following Him there
then He was crucified dead on a cross
you are distraught thinking it's not fair
Then three days later news got through
the tomb was open but Jesus was gone
you couldn't take it in He had risen
Peter and John had been there at dawn
Amazing this! the Messiah came to life
yes it was true Jesus defeated death
showing His deity as the great riser
as God's son, truth He always saith
(As I was thinking on our great redeemer and the phrase ' He is not here, he has risen', I have written this putting ourselves as a disciple of Jesus in these dramatic days.)
I am an early riser.
I love the peaceful solitude of morning,
At a time when most of the city is still asleep,
I find myself awake preparing to face
Any challenges that may come my way,
Everything is quiet at that hour,
During the hours before sunrise I can feel
The tranquil peace and quiet of the house,
It does something to strengthen my inner being,
Over the years it has brought me closer to God,
And knowing God is there watching over me
Gives me a warm joyful feeling,
After the morning coffee is brewed,
I slowly awaken from the slumber
Of the night before,
And I prepare to face the day knowing
I won't be facing any burdens alone,
Because God will be facing them with me.
I awaken well before dawn has thought of yawns
It is quiet then, and quite eerie in a way.
The peace deadens distractions, death-hour mourns.
The mind awakens refreshed, sparked by noir cafe.
Contemplation peaks then, and declines throughout the day.
There is no rush to milk the cows or other things.
No deadlines to meet; the slate is clean and ready.
What else can you do at such an hour, but think upon what morn brings?
No one else is mad enough to be up then, all fresh and chatty
Even the shops and streets are all mostly empty.
The sounds are muffled, hushed to not disturb,
Even the birds call out in toned-down tomes,
just to say 'Gidday' with a contrite little blurb,
like those asleep, snore gently and mutter in dreamy moans.
It is so quiet, that you can hear their gentle breathy tones.
A cock crows, a bell tolls, the garbage truck bangs day open.
The first light rings an alarm; the pre-dawn think-tank session is over.
'Good Morning' can be annoying if your stuff not strut and done.
The clatter, toil and bustle of the day makes chaos of the order,
which can only return - past day, past night, in pre-dawn embroider.
Dear early riser, wave goodbye
To last night's dream. Relinquish
The cares and woes of yesterday
Wholeheartedly embrace
The waiting day with open arms
Be the Christopher Columbus
Of this new day. Go forth and greet
The morning. Be the first to breathe in
Dawn's fresh air and listen to
Birds sing merrily
Hit the road while the world
Is still fast asleep. Be the first
To arrive at destination wherever
Head out with your body and spirit
Chanting...
Carpe diem!
Carpe diem!
Carpe diem!
CONTEST NO 535, any form-any theme with upto a max of 20 lines
Sponsored by Brian Strand (Winner: 1st Place)
Date written and posted: 03/22/2016
my bright cork plopped
into knee deep ice water~
tented ~ she slumbers
I work with the lord on sunday
I call this my fun day
For all the people I see
and the little boys that get close to me
Father this and father that
I hear all day as their on my lap
not again father a few may say
dont worry boy soon enough you'll be gay
learn to like it, hold your breath
or god will make you soon find death.
god can watch or turn the other way
Alls I know is......
God bless Sunday!
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