Status Poems; a Facebook quest

I have also been working on writing every morning and sometimes evenings; poetry. I am not completely sure what has compelled me to do so, only that the patron of my thoughts has bid me do so and am compelled to comply. So to entertain you, and to remember the museful gifts, I present them here. I will eventually organize them into a more coherent bit… but for now, here they are… raw.

Morn’s chill wraps soft and familiar around me.  Each dawn taking my shivers, the finale to a restless night and turns them into a joy, brining the scent of autumn to cloak me. What would life be like without moments like these; fraught with words like regular, nominal and plain. So an ode to the chill, raise up mug of warmth and wakefulness: Wrap me in joy and autumns cloak until the day I rest along with earth herself and dream the dreams of my ancestors!

Morning. How great is the dawn; the creeping in of light, slowly untucking night and I from slumbers door. How joyous is the waking; to see the the eyes of heaven wink back as I drift to wakeful peace and feel the wind gently welcome me, a touch upon my cheek. Nothing compares my love, nothing compares save thee. To feel thy embrace and knowest without doubt, thou whilst forever have love for me.

And so begins the morn, sun to rise above the earth, orchestrating songs of old; trumpets guised of sparrows and tambourines the leaves in hue. Oh this, the delight of natures whims, seen by chance and heard by grace, bring joy to me and love to you.

And so it ends the day is sleeping, the moon dressed in white glides o’er glittered silk, while crickets sound the lights undoing, and breezes tuck the sparrows to bed.

The night comes quickly, ebbing over the city like the dark waters of the sea, leaving me to ponder the stars and moon.

Our hearts soar out in song, even when our voices suffer not a sound. Our minds leap out in dance, even when our eyes see only tears. Our souls seek out love, even when we feel alone.

To those who have passed: My ears no longer hear your voice, but my heart does. My eyes no longer see your face, but my soul does. My hands no longer clasp yours, but my dreams do. How can I not know you are here? I can, because love connects us across the veil.

The sun is rising, slow and still, awakening all around in the silence of his warming rays. The birds chip and chirp, the air shivers with delight, and I stand look up at the nearly black sky in awe of a brilliant entrance, smiling at being a solitary witness to the glory of dawn.

Subtle little cracks. Subtle little slivers. Subtle little tears that cut, crawl and shiver. Subtle little moments, not subtle in their depth, give way to subtle quakes and quivers in the devastation of what is left. Subtle little cracks. Subtle little slivers. Subtle. subtle

Autumn winds are beckoning, the dance of fall begins, step care-freely with oak and elm, tread hap’ly with maple spin. Morn’n is filled with joy and peace, though tears set hard against the sight, the Autumn winds are beckoning, come dance with me this night. Be not afraid of passing days, the light must grow to dim.

The passing of the summer, lends heavy the weight of fall, to breathe in deep the winter wind, it is oft hard to think life will return. So as this night doth pass and beckon I the autumn leaf, I pray for those who have fallen before me, that in our time and time again we will indeed merry meet.

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