Short Riser Poems

my bright cork plopped
into knee deep ice water~
tented ~ she slumbers...

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I'm not an early riser-- I was wrong
I could say I am a night child
And I admit-- I love monday mornings...

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Just
Especially brilliant
Never
Never
Intelligent
For
Early
Riser

Happy
Even
Life
Enters
Night time
Always

Beautiful
Right
On weird days
Won't forget
Never...

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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...

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My friend farmer Shane has perfected new breeds
His corn and soybeans he's planted from seeds,
An early morning riser,
Using no fertilizer,
He spends most of his spare time pulling weeds. 

Written August 3, 2022
[for Farmer Shane]...

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The Sun becomes 
A late riser
as winter sets in
And, it goes to bed early

That’s SAD
And, our mood swings
Like a pendulum	
Causing depression

What with Clouds
And dense fog
Spreading gloom
All over the place?

Only bright sunlight
Can bring back 
Light into our lives 
And melt away
The winter blues

(January 9, 2018)...

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My Quiet Time
By: Miracle Man
2;10 am 3/5/2021 

As an early riser,
I feel the breeze that whispers through dry grass,
and I’m surrounded by God’s peace.

Still none the wiser,
the world around me wakes and what I hear, in mass,
are wagon wheels, bone-dry of grease.


“In quiet places reason abounds.”
Adali Stevenson
...

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I am an early riser, usually between 4 and 5 a.m. 
That's my quiet time for reading, and thinking,
And sometimes writing. 
I especially enjoy it when, 
After a pre-dawn shower,
I can look out my window and see,
In the apricot light of dawn,
To the spattering applause of rain,
The miscreant predatory night
Being borne reluctantly away
In manacles of rainbows.
...

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You remember in photographs, usually
And my keys, wallet, phone are not in safe places 
My mismatched socks festoon the living room 
And snuggle in next to your dishes filled with yesterday’s bones
And sometimes drifts of dog snow tumble through our kitchen 
Catching around the legs of chairs 
You the early riser, sometimes me
Either way with protestations and coffees 
In the imperfect light...

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Early riser, coffee in my hand
Watching the stars as they fade away
Yes, twinkle twinkle little star
Go, I'll admire you another day

Your light has come so very far
From a different time and place
A distance I cannot comprehend
Through this mystery called space

When I break this earthly bond
Perhaps the heavens I'll explore
Flying to see you face to face
And walk through infinity's door...

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A Quatret To My Wife

When hell has frozen over,
And Hades’s dogs sleep quiet,
Love’s plant the blessed clover,
Will bloom a mossy riot

Love’s urgent thrust’s a miser,
Brings lovers’ secret moan,
But woman’s touch, a riser,
Tis butter on a scone

And with this love I worship,
The path on which we walk,
Our voyage is such a fair ship,
Does vex all others’ talk



Written for contest 16/7/15...

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Just suppose,
you juxtapose
date and time…
early riser,
back home
before
you’re supposed
to go. A riot,
that it seems
my brain
pauses, supposes
it knows
everything,
but the calendar gleans
the truth,
the text reveals
I’m all
mixed up.
Most of the time,
I get it right,
but,
once in a while,
my brain
misfires,
however,
I’ll not fire
the old gal -
I’ve depended
on her
all
these years!
...

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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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Am a stargazer...
Born during winter..
Born as nocturnal..
Born as ideal..

Am a stargazer..
This month of December..
Am the masterpiece..
The master of peace..

Am a stargazer..
Born as neuter..
Not a neophyte..
Born to fight..

Am a stargazer..
They’ll remember..
With perfect recipe..
Blended perfectly..

Am a stargazer..
A dream catcher..
A little soldier..
An early riser..

AM REUBEN-A STARGAZER...

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Up and down the spiral staircase
Moving in circles as I go
I know I started, but where, know not
And where I’ll stop, I’ll never know.

A traveled tread, I see reminders.
A riser, kicked, I see my mark.
But why am I forever stepping
Upon this staircase in the dark?

Do we all have a similar staircase?
Leaving us forever in a loop and flow.
Take a leap with me from this staircase
And to far off lands, we’re sure to go!...

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Stillness of morning
Damp and multigreen
from predawn rain
Feathered choir resting from
greeting song of dawn
Artful preening touchups of
scattered random song
as flowers slowly rise and dry
in stately disarray
A soft breeze teases small
new leafed branches
Fresh painted life drips clearly
in new light
So many myriad hues of green
so nakedly truly shown
without blinding bleaching sun
A pre day showing 
rewards an early riser...

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Early riser, coffee in my hand
Watching the stars as they fade away
Yes, twinkle twinkle little star
Go, I'll admire you another day

Your light has come so very far
From a different time and place
A distance I cannot comprehend
Through this mystery called space

When I break this earthly bond
Perhaps the heavens I'll explore
Flying to see you face to face
And walk through infinity's door



For the Stars - OLD POEMS Contest...

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Wanted:
human that fits following description



I am a riser
I live to fulfill all of your needs
I am no run and hider

I am a pusher
I am a fighter
I am a get out a’liver ~

I will take your darkness
I will make you lighter
I am strong enough to stay your demons down ~

I am a trier
I will get low with you, that I may lift you higher
~ An army could not keep down my desire ~
                                                                        Sunshine Williams...

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Hear those darling starlings - a noisy bunch!
They’re singing their hearts out, Sweetheart.

They’ve taken over the storm-ridden tree.
So brilliantly clean, from beak to wings.

They chatter about the suspended weather.
Only the early morning riser hears their bobbery.

Oaks dripping, white sky, delightful tweets.
I could fly…I could fly - with no weight of pollen.

Hear those darling starlings - a noisy bunch!
They’re singing their hearts out, Sweetheart.

3/25/2023...

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