More Poetic Thoughts: and overload of poetry

The Breeches of Summer

I am left alone in the breeches of
Summer, the falling leaves
and snow of
Autumn and Winter;
But when you walk by and see me there
I am no longer alone
But through the next Spring,
Summer, Autumn, and Winter
Even through years ahead I will
Have a friend through
Thick and Thin.

Written Feb. 4, 2007




Gloomy Day

The gloomy Monday
Is a realist
When in Winter's drizzle.
It makes me think of
a song...
It makes me think of a far away place...
It makes me wish
That it was a rainy
Day, on another day,
In another place
Far Far Away.

Written on some October Day, a Monday, of this year



123

123,
The winners are called...
Called up to the podium
3rd in the world of BRONZE
Is announced first
Then next in the rank is
SILVER 2nd,
And as the tension builds
There is a rush of silence and
Finally FIRST, and he middle
Stage are claimed by the
Champion with the GOLD.

I was inspired to write this poem(the one above) by the color of some gel pens that
I had received for my birthday this year. the 3rd and BRONZE were of the color suggested, the SILVER 2nd were of their color suggested, and the FIRST and GOLD were also of there color suggested.
Written Oct. 20, 2007


The Painting That I Dreamed About

The silver moon
Shines on the lake
That glimmers with
Blue Crystals.
As we watch from
The arching bridge
That catches the
Array and glimmer
Of all that surrounds it.
A white crane glides past
Us with the under side
Of its plumage shining
In a blue array of shimmer
And the top of the magical
Moment bird shines with a
Silver so unreal
It is as if, in this moment
We are in a dream.
Not just the dream
Of the moment, but one that
Will last till my memory loses itself
Completely.
Then and there the
Magical crane freezes
As my artwork of these two
Friends is made into a dream
Of worlds
Between realism and
Impressionistic.
The freezing lasts as I
Sign my name at the bottom
Of a dream.
I travel to this dream
Frequently.
I travel to it when I feel
Like being in between those
Two worlds of art.
The silver moon
And the water of
Blue impressionism shine
and glue themselves to the
Bridge, to the path of these
Two friends.

I wrote that poem at night while listening to Bebo Norman- a Christian artist.
Written Oct. 20, 2007


Green are the lily pads
In the start of spring
Surrounded by all the other
Bright and cheerful colors that
Signify the start of new life.
Purple & dark & new are the orchids.
Pink with pastels all around in
The garden.
Red in its lightness abound in a
Boutique of roses.
Silver in tint are many a thing
But mainly the clouds up in the
Sky.
Blue is every where,
Abounding in the water
And in the massive expanse above us
Not just there, but always in the flowers that grow in the garden and
Wild out in the field.

Written Oct. 21, 2007


Too many ideas, but you must develop them.
Don't worry I have two more poems or for others
sorry but I still have more.


The Past

As I look into the past
Into the history of our free nation....
I wonder
What if
The year 1771 hadn't occurred
What if
Those horrors hadn't happened
What if
Blood hadn't been shed
What if
There hadn't been Loyalist's and
Rebel's, but instead just people
With no decided titles
That would decide their fate.
What if
God had let peace reign on
This globe....
And war no longer existed,
But that it had never
Happened.
Peace like this will come
One day, but now with
Us as imperfect sinful
Human-beings it will never
Come to pass.
Omly in the end
When the one reigning
Is God supreme
Instead of our cruel,
Imperfect, sinful hearts.
One day when
The Past is no longer a
War torn country,
But a perfect place where peace
in God's kingdom reigns supreme.

Written some Wed. , I believe, in Oct. on the way home from Costco and Ikea


Half A Perfect Sphere


Half a perfect sphere exists,
It is like the top of a clear globe
In the day its blue shines through
The puffy whites that gather under it,
That is its attitude considered happy
For a brightness golden yellow inhabits
There far away from us.
But in its angry horrid mood
The puffy whites change quite a bit
Into gray puffy sadness filled with
A gift to us below.
And as it falls it quenches the thirsty
Dry ground,
And darkens the sod below...
There is one more time that it changes
And that is when the golden yellow sets
Between the landscapes beyond,
The blue changing to darkness
And up coming the silver bright
And multicolored diamonds one and all.

Written Oct. 28, 2007

Can you tell what the last pome is about?

I enjoy writing poems they are so much fun...
I hope you enjoy writing them and reading them.
As much as I do.