faerie kisses to usher in the morning
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
The grief I feel is of another kind
Sweeter than holy water
A deeper breath than moorland air to find
The black of midnight, not—
Of monstrous seas, but—
Of restful night, donated cloak
From a kindly gentleman to wear
Wrapped in coolest starlight, safe
Astride a destrier — galloping to water
Molted feather — fortuitously found
New flight, gentle wind in gossamer sail.
Creeping tendrils — nettles wind around
Sentries of roses — silken petal rounds
Shower the lily casket — topped by pearly crown.
I know my grief is not the universal kind
But something softer than the norm
Welcome as a friend, I usher in my grief
And death, his brother, dressed in angel white
Scythe to call its sleepers — lowered in greeting bow.
Farewell, Annie
Newcomer to the under-realm.
With no card of sympathy
Or hearse to see you off
In lonely grief you leave your final hurt.
But, relief of death follows me, ebony puppy
Nipping at my heels, my little black dog
Helps my heart to heal.
With varying degrees of intensity,
my internal war rages on.
Freedom of choice vs. obligation to others,
a conflict that’s been fought since time’s dawn.
The battle requires a decision to be made
that personal responsibility must mediate.
Choosing a position to take is juxtaposed
to choosing a position to abdicate.
The skirmish renews each morning,
since the tempest percolates whilst I sleep.
There’s no option that involves fleeing
because the repercussion would echo too deep.
I long for a palatable solution,
which could usher in welcomed peace.
But my internal war will continue raging on,
'til I find an existential release.
Early summer evening in the city
has its hypnotic hold on me
The way humidity mixes with warm blacktop and it's lines of lush trees
I got a miles wide view of painted storm clouds rolling around the brick lined horizon
Echoes of children's laughter chasing the sun down, the music of life lives here
I listen as the late birds sing to usher in the night
Lightposts buzz like first stars appearing to shine on my path
The pulse of the street welcomes me
Home at last
Roll back the tides of time, and tell,
Of ancient books of myths, of hell,
Of temperance, nuns succumbed to gloom,
Entombed within their living tombs,
Of monks, and saints, and gospel song,
Born gently by the breeze, along,
Of deep toned organs' peeling swells,
Of virgins, Mary, and funeral knells,
Of dim-lit cells and penance loaned,
Which can for one's darkest deeds, atone,
Look back and lift the veil of night,
And view the man, the anchorite,
There he sits, so sad, so pale,
Shuddering at superstition's tale,
Crossing his chest with meager hand,
While saints and priests, a motley band,
Array before him to urge their claim,
To heal, in the Redeemer's name,
To climb the heavenly ladder, made,
By every patron, of every grade,
From wealthy abbot, fat and fair,
To starving child, withering there,
All of them eager to usher in,
The soul, ransomed by It's sin,
And tell me hapless bigot, why,
For what, for whom did Jesus die,
If pyramids and statues of saints must rise,
To form the passage to the skies,
Would you think man can wipe away,
With what but penance, day by day,
One single sin, too dark to fade,
Beneath a bleeding Savior's shade.
What if silver stars are tears from God
They fall glowing from broken heart
We live hoping to go there one day
Growing older bolder needing more faith
What if the white wind is God’s sigh
Despite our sins He moves the sky
To usher in the seasons give us time
Red reasons to love live and learn life
What if our planet is in kindergarten
Not far from the Eden plants started
We say we want to go to first grade
But we haven’t learned how to play safe
In the Stillness of the New Moon
By Michelle Morris
29/01/2025
In the Stillness of the New Moon
We usher in New Opportunities
To find Blessings in every Moment
Love and Light and Peace
A chance for New Beginnings
Intentions set for our Path
To share our Gifts with the World
To know our Souls are Magical
For anything is possible
We can create a World that is ours
We can make a positive difference
We can explore Freedom through beautiful art
So, don't be afraid to start again
Look to the New Moon and be inspired
There in the Darkness she emerges
Waiting for her lover's kiss as Fates are entwined
May the Moon show you her Mysteries
May she ignite your Passion under the Stars
May you know the longing of Fulfilment
May your Spark be ignited to fully Live
And each day when you rise with the Sun
Remember that the Moon kissed your face
Every night she holds you close to her
Sharing the hours in her warm embrace
© Michelle Morris, 2025
Gods of Men
Uniquely crafted
with the world in focus
Altered scripts
broken-off ancients scrolls
Erecting structures
in a malleable world
Setting hearts on fire
testing souls with trials
Romancing the sundial
allotting time, as we
usher in a new era
With each revolving door
usurping gods as men
Selling lives for less
The world sings Your praise
Says You were born in a stable
To where a bright star showed the way
To wanderers of the desert
They sing carols and make new ones
Year after year every Christmas
All that is nice and sweet to hear
But Lord I have another reason
To sing out aloud
The greatness of Yours
I am no Christian by birth
Neither have I lent my ears
To missionaries who preach
And invite the world to their feuding folds
My country had a leader
Whom Your life influenced
And he put what he knew of You into practice
To free us from perilous bondage
Made us truly recognize
How You chimed with our ancient nascence
He is the Father Of Our Nation
None else in the world I think
Had the strong conviction he had
That Your teachings can be PRACTISED
My country therefore owes a lot
To You, Jesus Christ,
And to You we truly belong
Oh, guide us Divine Light
And illumine the world
Let us celebrate Christmas
To usher in an era of peace
In which the whole creation can rejoice
Unbound, without fetters and barriers
In the bosom of true Christ Consciousness
Undifferentiated Oneness
It's a lingering mystery
What people are going through.
Everyday, we meet wounded, fragile souls
Who conceal sadness with smiles.
They've wrapped barricades around their glass hearts,
Stamped with a "No Tresspass" sign.
If we're patient enough,
They'll let us through with time.
With gentle hearts
And mindful eyes,
We watch out, reach out
And touch these broken and wounded folks.
We let them know they're not invisible,
That we see them, and hear them;
We show them that we care.
Just one big hug is enough
To lift their despondent spirits
And usher in bright rays of sunshine
Into their gloomy existence.
We meet so many
With bleeding wounds we'll never see
Without delving much deeper.
There's nothing wrong with asking
"Are you okay?"...
To excavate deeply buried catharsis,
To release withheld floodgates of pain.
With gentle hearts
And mindful eyes,
We take care of ourselves
And one another.
Four blossoms fall
coming to a rest
on the crest of a wave
rippling across the fathomless lake.
Three flowers flowing
sweet wind blows
the scent of fresh buns
in the wake of a glorious sun
Two cherry blossoms float
a streetlight shining upon
the lone bench embracing the night
moths pining after the celestial crescent.
A single bud blooms
new hope bursts forth
sparks spring old and young
blooming into spring.
A time for peace
a time for war
A time for darkness
relentless horror... yet
in its midst, a time for prayer
A time for Hope
A time to cleanse our hearts
of hate-filled tropes
A time to build a house for God
to dwell here on earth
To shine His light in darkest corners
to usher in the great Rebirth
What is it about love and poetry that makes it seem divine?,
What is it about heartbreak and music that makes me want to feel it?,
What is it about anger and paintings that makes it appear so beautiful?.
Because I lack the metaphors to explain my affection,
Because I lack the melodies to communicate my affliction,
Because I lack the skills to express my aggression,
So what do I do?
I put pen to paper and I scribble,
Circles and cycles,
That illustrate my deepest emotions,
Like a black hole made of blue ink,
Puncture my pages and make the ink leak,
Stains on my palm like blood,
Feeling it would feel better if it actually was.
So if there was a metaphor to define my emotions,
I'd say a love song,
Smooth enough to usher in the vibes,
Easy on me enough to carry me through this hard hell,
I'd say an artwork,
Beautiful enough to call its God's creation,
I'd say a sonnet
Fourteen lines with a rhyme scheme, a pivot and a dramatic change.
But really no work of art can describe my heart,
Because my heart is my art,
And I am undescribable.
Clouds of fleeting cotton clump,
tire to make the changing shape,
tell wind, stop blowing squally across sky.
They want to adorn shining golden lines,
as cold sun sinks beneath skyline remote.
The sun rays paint old leaf tan,
in summer heat the face curls,
as the shape of youth crushes for it’s dry.
In fall wind it blows away from the stem,
tree wishes spring to usher in the green.
Dream buds unfurl the dry eyes,
see petals shape blissful bloom
in flowers soaking colors from spring air,
share hue of butterflies from sunset sky
until the shape of splendor wilts forlorn.
Bleak loneliness strides with me
toward you, my charming moon.
Its shadow sinks in my fading footprints,
that’ll pace until I reach you to embrace,
you’ll find me repose in shape of silence.
Life weaves web maze of patterns
with the ordained shape of things.
Pondering the edge of the universe
Destroys the concept of proximity
The ongoing continuum of time
Stretches well beyond infinity
Galaxies drifting in the distance
As we shine on our spinning star
Must marvel at the magnitude
Admiring the vastness from afar
History extending back ages
While an eternity lies ahead
Endless opportunities abound
Limitless potential to ascend
Our solo existence barely a spec
But can collectively coalesce
To usher in fresh perspectives
Propelling forward future progress
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