Short Morns Poems

Embrace me love with all your thorns
'Long as I wake up to you all morns...

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Autumn morns
Each aspen
Shivers cold

And awakes
Dripping old
Golden sun

To cushion
The Winter’s
White carpet...

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All the dawns of all the morns
Swing back the seaweed’s draft,
Brings to me the octopus, hid deep 
From spear’s cruel laugh....

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Never meant to be bitter and twisted,
its the back pain that makes me so, 
used to love frosty winter morns, 
and dogs playing in the snow....

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Tuesday mornins are so crazy...
get up just to be sluggish and lazy..
you find yourself in the bathroom tryin to get ready..
while the rest of your family are holdin your teddy......

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With spooked nerves' dead of night woe
This horror show
Morns and fogged, quaking on through.
Eves and fogged, back.

A bony figure's stiffness
And lifelessness
Treed, which its leading part plays.
Treed, with star's knack....

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Each new night
Stella might!
Shining bright,
Moon gives light
Brings delight.

New day dawns.
Dewdrops form,
Refreshed lawn.
Coloured morns.
Such adorns!


Written 9th January 2022
For the "What's New" contest.
Sponsor: Joseph May...

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A blue springboard in my kitchen, 
A pink parachute in the bath.
I keep my parents guessing
Oddities stir my daddy’s wrath.

My total lack of normalcy
And my goat hat with the horns
Keeps them from regular visits
Giving me many peaceful morns....

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Bright
Sun
Golden
Silhouettes
Trees' uplifted arms
Shines against sky's gray whispy clouds
Seems to paint fluorescent light against clouds at center
Contemplating are shapes and a lot of gray what one who is color blind sees most morns...

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Comatose: inspired by Insomniac by Maya Angelou, for Joann’s Copycat contest

There are some morns when
Sleep conquers,
Heavy and masterful.
And all the tricks
That I groggily try
To shake it from my head
Are futile as raising the dead,
And much less hopeful....

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Take the bull by the horns
                                 You may find blisters corns
                                       But man be brave
                                       You'll surely pave
                                The way to your new morns...

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In gold hues, o'er fields of wheat

The morns new Sun I oft greet, 

A sight to make my heart sigh

Some days life can be so sweet.










Entry for
Let the Pens Flow - Jueju Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Jenish Somadas
12/3/2020. Placed 3rd....

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Down where Golden Rods blooms
Creek runs to rushing tune
And mist rises on cool morns

Shrouding red Sweetgum leaves
Gentle wind blows through eaves
Sighing comfort not forlorn

Lazy sound so soothing
Snuzzle in relaxing
Listening to dove that mourns

Note: 
Click on "About The Poem"...

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neath darkening sky
swept away, flowers take wing 
in winds brisk surfing
rustling leaves, swaying branches
weaving springtime morns glances

2/19/2022


A Brian Strand Tanka Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand

 a tanka in English is a 3 line hiku & a 2 line couplet...

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Hush, dear. For I will stay—here, with you, holding you; forever, just for tonight 
I shall watch you sleep, unaware of the dark and the starless sky:
Just enough warmth and, of mother's tenderness, soft light
Keeping you from all that make babies cry:
Love, we know, knows not of 
Morns nor of 
Nights....

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Ha, Ha, Ha.
It's getting better now, days of wine and roses,  dates, and alpine courses.
But through the haze of lost days, mornings, noons, and nights.
Everyday now!
A flower blooms, made of concrete.
weary morns,  hair afoul, breathe I breathe.
head a pounding, sounds afouling.
A flower blooms, made of concrete....

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Your shores were touched by timeless sea,
your mortal life mere shifting sand
to be built, eroded, then set free,
when led by our Lord’s eternal hand.

Each day as the sun does make it’s rise,
your eternity shall steal my mind.
In the morns dark clouds that shield my eyes,
I pray at last true peace you find....

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Oh, the morns – with the freshness
of the birds.
That child, that used to jump
like at hopscotch
(not to step over shadows).
The florescence of the distant almonds …
And those wild sunflowers
I gift to you
(on my palms the wind
is coming down).
Words meaning nothing
as:
“Lazarus, come out!” 
God!
Grant Hopes....

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What is it about Sunday night
    that the universe just can't get right

  Sunday days, often serene
    Monday morns, fueled by caffeine

  But Sunday nights, phlegmatic and placid
    as if all of creation just went flaccid

  I guess I might as well cash in my chips
    and ride out this night's eternal eclipse...

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I find, some days, I wake with ‘Paper Feelings”
On twilight morns when thoughts are pressing through
With yearning to express through pen and paper
The swirling of ideas, some old, some new

I most enjoy those days of “Paper Feelings”
With mind afloat on inspiration seas
The undulating flow, inscribing rhythm
Creating what the universe foresees...

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E-nd of the year will come 
D-ecember thirty-first; 
D-awn of the new one 
I-s going to show in 
E-arnest. 

C-herish the passing days, 
O-n the nineteenth of December; 
R-emaining morns are twelve, 
P-ray to make the future brighter. 
U-nload the stresses of life, let the difficulties disappear; 
Z-ealously learn from failures, at the end of the year....

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R-ejoice over the coming year, 
O-n December twenty-second; 
W-ait for December thirty-first 
E-vening to eventually end. 
N-ine more morns to go before the final night; 
A-s you celebrate your birthday, prepare for the last starlight. 

M-onday January first morn 
O-pens the dawn with soft wind; 
I-t's fireworks display once more, 
N-ew year is here 
A-gain....

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Luscious  is  August
With minty fragrance
Enlivening  vales;
As grasses renew
Their sizzled display.

Awakens now
The red of morns--
Outside my gate
Flowers  explode:

Arms  outstretched
I  begin
To race, dance--

Winds hail
‘SUMMER

COMES!’


Diminishing Hexaverse Contest
Sponsor: Emile Pinet   5/22/2020
Checked via howmanysyllables.com...

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Even angels weep, I'm on the brink
of a torn raft holding lifelong gifts
to sail, sail on with every heave…
as the presence of light enfolds.

Until the shoreline takes me home
for as I rest , new morns will speak
of journeys wild and gentle dreams…

when all but pencils lie awake.




Even The Angels Wept Contest
Sponsor: John Lawless   5/5/2016 ...

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BE

Wake up on bright summer morns
When birds chirp and gentle breeze sings
See the sun readying it's gun
Hoping to shoot bare skins
Till they bleed heavy beads of sweat.

Be.
Live at ease like blossoming flowers
But shield your nectars from that fiery ball's reach
Make lemonade with life's lemons every hour
Yet surf difficult waves as expert sea birds do.

FORM:The Frugalist...

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