2.2.22

A poem for this special day.  Sometimes we need poetry.

Poetry is sometimes on the cusp of awake and dream. Some additional poems.

How a poem?

A poem should have the syllables it has
so rhyme can mix in too,
so all the trains that come and go,
can soon depart anew.
One is fast, the other’s bold,
the third is “ethered”, the last’s been sold!
My ship, it’s sailed,
was once a song,
with journeys long in yester-years
and now I wait at the holy green gate
for my cue
with little to do.
And yes…
Rhyme is fine, when it’s young and not old,
when it’s sung by maidens
with braids that flow, which
blow in the winds–
sleeping deep tingling dreams in frolicked scenes
at the height of our roars
at the moments we…pass.

Embed from Getty Images

Free Write

Tall tinsels, bared and fried, sticky to the touch, strewn across oceans of love-torn conflicts. War. Peace.  Black crows converge on nearby hills.  The barker brazenly flies above the maddening crowd with wings attached, trunk-speed traveling due East, whose melange trips, triggers a North wind, while abiding by the trail’s curves, up and around, in and out, through and….nonsense!

Coffee clears the rhymes,

the tangents, the meters

on the cusp between

dream and wake,

the mind boggles,

the senses ooze,

the traveler speaks

from morn ’til noon.

Embed from Getty Images

Footnote: I try to write a poem every day.  It clears my mind, my soul and helps me grow.  To process the news (and I read a lot), I need the world of imagination to help me sift through it all and not forget what matters.  Things do matter. Today I also wrote this:

I am grateful for:

1) My imagination

2) For gentle touchings

3) For long-lost friends

4) For good coffee with pizazz

5) For my family.