Old dying man said,
“Life is but a Model T,
to thrive…crank’er up!”
The Daily Post: Crank
The Daily Post: Crank
A loophole…peace…hope to gain…
A place to hide…to escape the pain?
Yes, this has happened…and that has too…
Regret…of all these things I do.
Where is this place…of which I search?
Standing…bleeding…covered in dirt,
My face ashamed…I am a disgrace.
I guess this loophole…an imagined place….?
I look…your eyes…and find it not there…
Just anger…judgment…devoid of care.
My head in my hands…I beg of your face…
Show some concern…if only a trace…
Afraid…I look…but only once more…
Your back fades…you close the door.
Wretched…alone…this heart cries…
The hope within…silently dies…
[WP’s daily prompt = Allergic] + [Writer’s Block Prompt = Diet] = Haiku: America Bleeds
Moral of this Haiku: If you dread it…do it…then it is done.
Anger, hate and doubt,
Faith, love, hope; your choice to be.
Haiku is so much fun! It’s like a math problem combined with a crossword puzzle. You only have 17 syllables to get your point across; and those syllables must be stacked in a 5-7-5 format. Often the first and second lines are at odds with one another and the last line ties the concept together.
Oh, that God would mold this clay,
nothing but dust, dirt and decay!
And yet, in me, He saw some worth;
He sent his Son, from Heaven to Earth.
To lay down his life, upon the cross,
to thirst, and bleed, and suffer loss.
And so for me, His Glory awaits;
one day I’ll walk, through pearly gates.
So nothing to fear, because I am free;
His rod and His staff, they comfort me.
The shadow of death, there is no escape,
But God’s in the valley, my soul, to take.
As a tiny girl, often, my mom and I, prayed the prayer, “Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep.” I was always comforted by this bedtime ritual. As an adult, when I think on the memory, I find I am blessed just as much now, as I was then; perhaps even more. Thus was the inspiration for this poem.
“Mama, thank you for the foundations of strength you’ve given me. I am a better woman because of you.”
(Daily prompt: Luck)
Luck has nothing to do with my spiritual life. It is orchestrated by the hand of God.
I sit here basking, under rays of sun,
with grass interwoven between bare toes.
The bumble bee, he buzzes, he’s on a mission,
to a fragrant purple…a lilac…he knows.
Humming birds flit, their wings all a flutter.
The nectar they crave, from this purple place.
Orange Monarchs, and Swallow-tails of yellow,
land on the flowers, to hide their face.
Nervous, I was, at the dawn of this day.
But now, I smile at nature’s display.
And all of those critters, they…like the fay,
fairy dust of magic, upon me, convey.
This poem is a result of today’s Daily Prompt, Nervous. It was inspired from memories of me as child, sitting in the shade an old lilac bush, my mom had planted. I loved watching the birds, bees, and butterflies that frequented its branches.
Peace Is a Place
I walk across this bridge,
Of which I often trod.
Waters ripple and flow,
Caressing earth and sod.
Breezes comb my hair,
Gentle on my nose,
Fragrances so sweet,
Drifting from primrose.
I think of this my place,
Daydreams never cease,
So everywhere I go
I always carry, Peace.
Fill my glass, one more time.
Grape nectar to percolate!