Future Giftwrapping

CHRISTMAS

Cheerful time for the kids – soaking up the season
Hectic time for the parents – hoping to get the gift to please them
Raiding the shelves like angry bears, barely enough can stay
Interesting commotion for the malls, the charity ringers, the bells they play
Saint Nick comes around only once in his celebrated red and white
Then disappears to the backs of minds until the next 25 days to silent night
Making time for family is the meaning of the season
Above all the gifts I’ve received – video games, clothes, food, money
Sharing the moment with the loved ones just has to be the best reason

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Motivational Window

wendys

Window’s raining rays
All the words trapped in my mind
Passed down in pixels
A fresh place to write and muse
New angles to move forward


Writing 201 – Screen, Alliteration, Haiku or Tanka

Another go at Writing 201: Poetry? You bet. I last did this in February and could use some brushing up on my poetry skills and meet some new bloggers.

That is a picture of a Wendy’s I blogged from earlier this year. Having a new place to read and write and see a different environment has a way of adding something new to my writing. Of course, I couldn’t write at all sitting at a table there, because it wasn’t my comfort spot, which is at home or in a quiet spot with low lighting.

Break These Uncertain Chains

I’ve sat and waited, for my dreams to be elated
Moment on, moment again, handcuffed by uncertainty
And with burst of energy, will soon find power to break free
And if love is uncertain or revelations not far
It’s plain to see how I reach for the stars
And wrap it in sheepskin, handle with care
Since these are my dreams, and I want them to share
And water and fire mix; will future pardon me
As the cosmos dance along, my ideal image created

The present is a race: you’re always on the move
Elusive stars scatter, still time doesn’t halt
While the future’s a fight, it’s finish not smooth

Time taken now, to decipher desired place
It powers; the twisted hands of fate act
Setting course my days ahead, soon question will become fact

Writing 201: Future

Harmony in Pure Nature

magnetic

This is a poem created using Magnetic Poetry and I was inspired to use it after a fellow blogger used it as well and provided a link to it. Quite fun, actually.

Harmony in Pure Nature

By nature’s secret
Only of the spirit
Dark air could light intuition
Live like an insect
Through thick root
If you have life
Never know wild grass is
Her deep sacred rose &
Winter tree
Beautiful as said spring prairie
Always breathe above earth
See me in bright sanctuary
Rest in vivid river song
Sun over a cold dawn fruit


Writing 201

From Bare to Brilliant White

“How dare you mock me?”, I say,
squatting near your dusty wall,
your drawers of ripe old age,
have witnessed much life, much
rise and fall;
You’ve been with me through many tears,
witnessed hopes, dreams, and fears,
trials and tribulations,
“Wow, I can’t believe I’ve kept you all of these years.”
Were there when I was a baby,
and have witnessed so much more,
watched me grow up fast,
walk through many bedroom doors;
Ah! What a brilliant shade of white,
it shouted anew in 2010,
Contained within it’s
ever changing confines,
are an assortment of odds and ends:
A jar of beer caps, some flossers, and
guitar tuner which is likely dead;
The 80s live on in an old baseball handbook
while a memory book lies above
college diploma, received from
all those painstakingly boring classes I took;
And the ties of assorted taste, and
honor roll medal from high school,
discarded toothbrush in the back,
and hydrocodones from the old Liz I knew;
Let me keep you, dearly durable drawer,
and all of your companions,
Because I love you to the moon and more;
I have never had another dresser,
this same one from my youth,
and as the years roll on,
and life changes colors,
I realize I can never let go of you

Writing 201

Magical Ore of Words

My mind is at ease, familiar click of the keys as I write down these words, taking me back to that happy place. The perennial pen that produces my thoughts, undeniable taught with wisdom, courage, and understanding. The slow flow of a constant show to unravel the answer of me. Tapping into the magical ore within, drawing out inspiration, pulling through desperation, it’s going to be my innovation.

The words seek to be approved, I bust my way through to be improved, tapping the magical well until the keys start to swell, it’s either heaven or hell, as my words form a shell of my utter existence. Like the glittery firebugs that light up the night, electrical synapses from my brain power the prose that flows down like rain, until I am completely dry. But satisfaction never comes, as the magical ore refills once more, and the magical pen starts in again, pulling me through the gates to a peaceful bed of literary resistance.

Writing 201

Ballad of Selma’s Hero

the voice of the trodden,
he turned the world around
the voice of the trodden,
burned segregation
to the ground;

I say to you, Mr. King,
you are a true icon to me
I say to you, Mr. King,
your legacy lives on for eternity;

he had a dream
that the world would
come together:
not just fifty shades
of black and white,
but every thread of
the proverbial
sweater;

he had a dream
that we all could
sit down together
peacefully;
could go to work
together peacefully;
could ride the bus
together peacefully;
could cross the street
together peacefully;

he had a dream
that our votes belonged
in the same box;
our education
in the same box;
our athletic talents
in the same box;
our political agenda
in the same box;

realize what Mr. King did,
shattered years of
racial hatred;
broke down the
proverbial Berlin Wall,
made us realize
we were all human, the
same after all

and now we have
a monument to
remember him;
and now we have
a way to pay our
respects to him;
and now we have
his powerful words
persevered in our history;
and now we have
his message being
heard universally

but this does not
change the fact
that his dream is still
spit on;
this does not
change the fact
that still a great many
have the utter most hate on;

but I’ll keep the ballad
of Selma’s dear hero
a happy soulful one for now;
I’ll keep the ballad
of Martin Luther King, Jr.
my grand respect for
his dream come true,
a happy tribute for now

Writing201