The Light of the Rising Sun

I was standing at the edge of darkness
The future, a horizon spread out before my eyes
It was dim, slightly pink but quickly changing
A new light illuminating a world of paradise.

It ascended quick and soon the sky was blue
But not dull and muted like faded tears
It was bright and alive with passion
A searing color that can melt ones fears

I’m leaving the edge the of darkness
The darkness of the edge is leaving
I’m entering the horizon of my life
A colorful world I can now believe in

My purpose clear, my journey’s begun
To move with the light of the rising sun.

***
This post was inspired by the Writing 201 (Day 10) Prompt: Future, Sonnet, Chiasmus
2015/02/27
Top “Featured Image” Photo Source: wallpaper-download.net

A Rescue In Time

I stand still in time with you
I consider us one
With endearing love
If we use love to solve the problem
If we integrate
To Obliterate the hate
The fix would facilitate
And Eradicate hate
Sharing the pain would save us all.

***

This post was inspired by the Writing 201 (Day 9) Assignment on Found Poems.
2015/02/26

In short – I found some words and made a poem out of them. 🙂

Found Words 2

The Year Around Me

The world outside is dark, and winter has a tight hold.
The bitter wind howls and everything is inches deep with cold.
It’s months like these I’m in denial, and in my house I hide.
And bide my time with planning for a time I’ll be outside.

I think on how the crocus pop, and herald the start of spring
Then daffodils, tulips, and iris – what wonderful, predictable things.
Oh how I’ll revel digging in the dirt, the stellas must be split.
Always another border to fill with flowers, I’ll never tire of it.
The weeks of spring are a ticking clock, there is much to be planted
Tomatoes, onions, peppers, squash, and kale – take none for granted.

The growing season, hot and long, requires lots of care and feeding.
All the life that wants to live means a fair amount of weeding.
The green grass of summer demands what seems like endless mowing
Which must be done so as to enjoy the rest of what is growing.

The autumn is also no time to rest, and mum really is the word
As the picking of ripened fruit is the only sound that’s heard
’Tis a lot of work, I’ll admit at times it can be quite trying.
But seeing what that hard work brings is very satisfying
Suddenly the house is shaking as the wind picks up again.
And I’m reminded it’s still two more months until the winters end.

***

This post was inspired by the Writing 201 (Day 9) Prompt: Landscape, Found Poem, Enumeration.
2015/02/26

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Springtime – Raspberry, Garlic, and Dill.

IMG_2563Chives, onion, and kale.          Tomato and PeppeIMG_2561rs.

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Fall Pics of the same:

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Ode To My Journal

Oh my precious book,
On top of all the others in the drawer.
Placed there so I can fetch you quick
For thoughts that will not be ignored.

You’re there when I’m half awake
And in great want of some dreaming,
As well as when I’m half asleep,
My mind far away and scheming.

Your full pages are a treasure
For me to remember and explore.
Your empty ones a blank canvas
Eagerly awaiting more.

Fickle feelings come and go,
Some moments don’t last for very long,
But you never fail to capture life
And its ever changing song.

Oh my precious book,
I hold you in esteem above the rest,
For within your trustworthy binding,
My thoughts are coalesced.

***

This post was inspired by the Writing 201 (Day 8) Prompt: Drawer, Ode, Apostrophe
2015/02/25

And in an attempt to prove I have a sense of humor, I’ve included a few alternate endings. Thanks rhymezone.com. 🙂

Alternate ending #1:

Oh my precious book,
I hold you in esteem above the rest.
Please turn your eyes now and don’t look,
I’m about to get undressed.

Alternate ending #2:

Oh my precious book,
I’d hold you in esteem above the rest
But I can’t right now, my hands are greasy
From eating a chicken breast.

Alternate ending #3:

Oh my precious book,
I hold you in esteem above the rest.
I’m so glad we’re together now
Through this court ordered house arrest.

Idle Music

Tapping, snapping, closed-fist knuckles rapping, playing out the tune that’s stuck up in your head. In the car, barely moving, your thumbs are thumping the steering wheel instead. Idle moments filled with sound by busy digits thinking when you’re not. Strumming, drumming, when life’s not forthcoming, making music on the spot.

***

This post was inspired by the Writing 201 (Day 7) Prompt: Fingers, Prose Poem, Assonance
2015/02/24

The Heroes All Around Me

It was declared, time to write
Of a hero and a deed.
I sat a while and pondered
Upon my trusty steed.

I have no epic story to tell
About the one who saved the day.
Before me mediocrity
So on my steed I stayed.

Fingertips poised gracefully
On all the lighted keys,
Waiting for the spark of life
To pluck words from the breeze.

But none did come and so I sat
Longer than an hour,
Thinking on what wonderment
Would make sweetness from this sour.

I clicked a link and wandered off
To see what others had created.
Perhaps I could glean greatness
If my mind was satiated.

What I found was passion
Pouring out from every page.
Line after line of rhythm and rhyme,
Words broken free from their cage.

And these people who would share
From the depths of their very soul,
Are a light upon a path
Leading right up to my goal.

They have taken a leap of faith,
They have their hearts exposed,
They have trusted in each other,
With the thoughts they have disclosed.

They are united in their passion,
They are selfless with their sharing,
They are not afraid of what others think,
And support with kind words and with caring.

Still sitting on my trusty steed
My fingers begin to dance,
Writing words about these strangers
And this very circumstance.

Soon the mediocrity of life has melted,
And the heroes have been revealed
It’s a tale worthy of a ballad
And with this my fate is sealed.

***

This post was inspired by the Writing 201 (Day 6) Prompt: Hero(ine), Ballad, Anaphora/Epistrophe.
2015/02/23

Photographs and Memories

I open the book, my sadness ignited,
About so much that was unrequited.

There are endless pictures piled up in that binder,
Each turn of the page a stabbing reminder.

The life that is denied me, the failures I own,
The wrongs that I’ve done, for which I atone.

Those moments in time are memories long gone,
A morning fog disappearing at dawn.

I see smiling faces but instead of joy there are tears,
Anger and regret for the wasting of years.

There’s a hole in my heart that is filled with such pain,
All attempts to mend it have been in vain.

I close the book, I can bear it no longer,
Perhaps next time I will be stronger.

***

This post was inspired by the Writing 201 (Day 5) Prompt: Fog, Elegy, Metaphor.

2015/02/20
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