Ode my spirit
strumming
chimer -ing straws of memories
I was called here
bumming rides on-wombs of mercy
Ode spirit – shivering greatness -in birth
Ham-bone and grinning
Junes’ Snow
Blueberry oak
Expanding in Milk and Honey
Ode spirit,
I’ve come…
I’ve come, home.
(Free google image)
His hat hung just above the tiled brow.
Formerly he wore his best,
High altered pursuit -Ivory Grey
Drinking -dusty winds
Perching, gently its blue-ish bill.
Practicing his craft on human-rubbish
Gliding his hallowed cry – eeeer.
Against ghetto ‘s, sand-dunes,war zones and cliffs too
Robotic faces shhing feathered hands
still on he came,
Proudly, shaking the bear,
Resiliently, greeting lion cubs,
Flying parallel with each blustery storm.
Protected by the universe, Mr. Sea Gull.
Today I did not follow the prompt, I’ve gone my own way. I meet a beautiful friend today and thought I’d share my feelings. National Poetry is coming to a close.I felt much pressure writing. I’ve enjoyed each fresh rhythmic line. I have much to be thankful for. Writing is my water,my glass-slippers to the ball.My healing. Writing is my friend. All Rights Reserved 2015.
Please check out NaPoWriMo here for today’s prompt if you like:
Sanity -Night,
Hog-weeds are much taller in late-spring.
Miles of untapered
Normality-falling into
shard-glass.
Hearts-pumping in misery
Watching the sun and moon hold hands
pressing breast to breast -ironsmithing, effervescent
breathing…
Fabric-wrapping Emerald’s
Violet kisses through subway tracks,
stretching printed patterns that make each girl,
Rich,
giggling in spoons of love.
In this poem I give my abstract attempt of bridge in love…So as I saw the moon and I saw the sun too I say “well now these two gift me such a delightful treat…and that’s when the words came..
Today’s prompt (optional, as always). Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem about bridges. A bridge is a powerful metaphor, and when you start looking for bridges in poems, you find them everywhere. Your poem could be about a real bridge or an imaginary or ideal bridge. It could be one you cross every day, or one that simply seems to stand for something larger – for the idea of connection or distance, for the idea of movement and travel and new horizons.
Happy writing!
Horizontally stretched in opposite direction
A runner’s stance – orchestrated
to go the distance.
Measuring her (stride)full -breath
each vibrating tentacles
evoking the wind
There are earthquakes, of explosions in all directions
no isolated acts in tragedie
each mother’s child
Just a step in way of bombing blows of9’11
Just a gunshot away of Walter Scott
Run with me-
Her elbows are rubbed in hope’s grease
her heart pumping in endurance
and though darkness has comes
She has no legs to run
her eyes glare at the finish
her strength arose from the rims of despair
Running to a
that place where hurt shall be no more
Running to the trees touch that sky
running for her freedom
running because I count too!
Running for my life
Running,
laying,- aside my fears
Running. to grow my trees,
again…
This poem is inspired by: Oklahoma Bombings, Events9’11 and the current tragedy in “Nepal”
http://kfor.com/2015/04/26/thousands-of-oklahomans-gearing-up-for-oklahoma-city-memorial-marathon/
Five buckets of love
Above Ash Place street
Spirits,on the floor, laughing , such a soothing fall.
Her wig fell straight into the offering plate ,
all because her fix was twisted
I pulled the joker’s card and did me no good
I attended Church @ Bedside Baptist
Farting on oak wood,
while the people praise the Lord…
An old woman sneered said “you ought to be a shame!”
I guess I couldn’t help it!!!
If I look for yesterday, I won’t ever find him.
Certainly not while the sun has gathered her children.
If I thought about tomorrow,
I’d be paralysed looking out my rearview.
I thought about traveling. I’d go to Venus, I’m not sure why.
Rambling on, I must.
Mother, she has a way that moves me .
Just how do evergreens stay so true?
Just how are the flurries flying in April?
I am fond of the animals that eat their skin course,
I never want to meet them.
This Poem makes no sense
but it feels good to vent.
I had some issues with my blog site So you won’t find day 21 for Napowrimo, I have changed themes still trying to find a theme that works for me(free is good) Nevertheless all is well. Hey things happen. I’ve gotta make the best of it and laugh real hard… Feeling Alive ,happiness is all…Much love to all the writers/Poets/ and bloggers in WordPress…
No greater Gulf between hell and I
Perhaps the rupturing twilight
could speak
For I never saw a man with holes in both hands and still be alive
Betrayed for pennies of fear
Ah-that Christ must die
watching the dust
settle, under seeds that
refuse to do any thinking of growing
For I never saw a man on fire and not be turned to ash
weakened by devicely
pleasures,
the serpents’ crawl
bitten with just one kiss
I pray to understand
these wages of sin has given dollars of death that do not spend
Upheaving Justice, that suppose our souls, wern’t worth the saving!
Here I am -again,
if we can’t overcome
and we can’t ever overstand,
Then what’s a man gotta do to get a little water his thirst!
For I never saw a man whose only kingdom was the cross
Some men have it all, some are lost,
some earn their freedom, and others shout crucify ,crucify
For I never saw a man,forgive like this
Filtered and pushing into the dark abyss
Great drops of blood ,
if only this, cup could pass, then earth would shake with witnesses beyond the mass
No greater gulf between Hell and I
For I never saw a man with holes in both his hands and still be alive…
Krissy Mosley Ministries 