Poetry month.
Written earlier, for April 1st:
3/19/17
I will lift up my eyes
I will trust in your light
Though the path here is dark
And shrouded in night.
I seek for the hope
That flows from your love
It increases in scope
And calls me above.
I will lift up my eyes,
I will trust in your light
Though the path here is dark
I long for your sight.
I will trust in your light
Though the path here is dark
And shrouded in night.
I seek for the hope
That flows from your love
It increases in scope
And calls me above.
I will lift up my eyes,
I will trust in your light
Though the path here is dark
I long for your sight.
This verse
Is being most adverse
It will not leave me be.
It insinuates its
Wordy self
Into every blank page I see.
It whispers of possibility
That there must be an end to sorrow
That no matter where we've been,
The road leads on to tomorrow.
No matter how dark the day
There is always a way
And if we believe
We will find it
If we ask,
We will receive.
Is being most adverse
It will not leave me be.
It insinuates its
Wordy self
Into every blank page I see.
It whispers of possibility
That there must be an end to sorrow
That no matter where we've been,
The road leads on to tomorrow.
No matter how dark the day
There is always a way
And if we believe
We will find it
If we ask,
We will receive.
April 2nd
Fog.
Hiding the tops of office towers
Shushing the traffic's roar
But not as hushed as Winter
For birdsong still
Is heard to flute
And trill
Above the cotton wrapped
Town.
Hiding the tops of office towers
Shushing the traffic's roar
But not as hushed as Winter
For birdsong still
Is heard to flute
And trill
Above the cotton wrapped
Town.
Weary.
The weather seems heavy,
Making the whole day a burden
With great difficulty borne.
Skies grey and dreary,
Air cold and damp
Body and senses leery
Of feeling Winter's retreating
Snap.
The weather seems heavy,
Making the whole day a burden
With great difficulty borne.
Skies grey and dreary,
Air cold and damp
Body and senses leery
Of feeling Winter's retreating
Snap.
April 3
For the rain has gone
The sun is shining
The flowers lift their heads
The birds raise their song
The world is alive again
And there are weeds to pull.
And lawns to mow.
The slumbrous Winter
Is no more.
April 4
For my notebook is forgotten
It languishes at home
Poems for today begotten
But not found
In this blog.
They shall be added later
And then this verse
Like a rude waiter,
Shall seem unnecessary
And perverse.
Here, then are the verses actually written on April 4th:
Again the skies
Look angry
Again they threaten us
But the radar tells
A different tale -
The storms are all to our North
And moving East.
My disposition
Is not as pleasant
As it might be
My new shoes are a bit
Tight, you see.
Hard to smile
And be upbeat
When suffering
Unhappy feet!
The pen upon the page lightly glides
But the thoughts inside my head are stuck.
Time goes by so slowly
When we wait for something
And far too quickly
When its time to relax
Or visit
Or enjoy life.
April 5
Composition on the fly
Using a tablet's screen
Gives my wits a real try
Challenges me not to scream.
For I am at work
And work is a library
I would be a big jerk
If I showed my true contrary
Nature.
In this quiet place.
There may be things more glorious
Than singing with a group
That you have been part of for years
That can blend with each other
And really make the music work
There may be more glorious things,
But it's hard for me to think of one
Just now.
To fly
Does not require
Wings
Or a plane
For me,
Only a beautiful song
And a clear voice
To let me sing
I have soared
With Mozart
With Strauss,
Puccini,
Donizetti
and Gounod
So very grateful
To have had such beautiful
Music
In my life.
My only hope
Is that I can continue
And not offend with
Substandard singing!
April 6, 2017
(2:45 am)
Hello insomnia
My old friend.
I've come to dance
With you again
Around achy joints
And a stuffed up nose
Pesky poetry
And relentless prose
That seem to plague me
For my sins.
And so,
Here I am
I contemplate
My father's pen
That he took
To War with him
And I think
If this ink
Could speak
Instead of write
It would tell many stories
Of many long Pacific nights
Sleepless,
With firefights.
And endless hours
Pop thought of home
Writing letters
Sitting in foxholes
Praying to see dawn.
April 7, 2017
The time has come
To commit poetry.
Not just for some,
But for everybody!
Lists
Endless
Must do!
Must find!
Must save!
Must pack!
Bossy little pieces
Of paper.
I make a lot of them
Unfortunately
They do not always
Get all of their items checked off.
Because no matter what we plan
Life gets in the way.
Sunshine SHOULD
Be on a list
Of things to stop and enjoy
Especially in early Spring
When it feels rare
And new
And makes the earth bloom.
It must be on the list
Titled
Necessary Stops Along The Way
(2:45 am)
Hello insomnia
My old friend.
I've come to dance
With you again
Around achy joints
And a stuffed up nose
Pesky poetry
And relentless prose
That seem to plague me
For my sins.
And so,
Here I am
I contemplate
My father's pen
That he took
To War with him
And I think
If this ink
Could speak
Instead of write
It would tell many stories
Of many long Pacific nights
Sleepless,
With firefights.
And endless hours
Pop thought of home
Writing letters
Sitting in foxholes
Praying to see dawn.
April 7, 2017
The time has come
To commit poetry.
Not just for some,
But for everybody!
Lists
Endless
Must do!
Must find!
Must save!
Must pack!
Bossy little pieces
Of paper.
I make a lot of them
Unfortunately
They do not always
Get all of their items checked off.
Because no matter what we plan
Life gets in the way.
Sunshine SHOULD
Be on a list
Of things to stop and enjoy
Especially in early Spring
When it feels rare
And new
And makes the earth bloom.
It must be on the list
Titled
Necessary Stops Along The Way
April 8
Waiting
Is not something
I do well.
Time wasting,
Now that, I excel at!
April 9
Today the crowd shouts Hosanna!
By Friday, that changes to Crucify!
How very fickle are humans
How swift to vilify.
It has always been so
Consistent only
In our Inconsistency.
In our seeming scorn
Of empathy.
Some try to change
To heed the call of him
Who came to suffer
Try to leave behind the selfish sins
Strive to help others.
On this day, I must reflect
I am guilty of doing as many do
Of going along to reject
The needs of other folk
Instead of standing up for what
I know is right and true.
The point of this whole story we read
On this Sunday every year
Is that though we fall short,
If we still try
Our efforts are seen and rewarded,
Our fumbles are forgiven,
And we must forgive one another
And remember to love
As we have been loved.
Lost Music
My voice is rough
Vocal cords covered
With something that
Won't budge
Cutting off notes
Adding a crackle
Where there should be
Smoothness
No lessons for 2 months
My teacher has been ill.
So, not enough practice
Things have gotten rusty.
It is frustrating.
For I desire
That soaring sound
That feeling of wonder
That I can produce such
And I could
Once upon a time.
I only pray that
I will again.
Soon.
April 10
All day long
My head in a spin
So many lists
Where to begin?
Sorting and packing
Laundry and cleaning,
Shopping and budgeting
I'm done in!
April 11
Today's Cohen Lyrics are
"In My Secret Life"
"I saw you this morning
You were moving so fast
Can't seem to loosen my grip
On the past.
And I miss you so much.
There's no one in sight.
And we're still making love
In my secret life."
The psychology of the breakup again. One thinks Mr. Cohen knew entirely too much about the end of relationships.
Reading song lyrics and also
Matthew Arnold's poetry
It's Poetry Month...
A beautiful day
Calm, bright and lovely
Between the storms
That Spring
Loves to fling
Our way
Preparing to travel
Trying not to unravel
Making lists.
Packing bags
Fighting nerves
Striving to find calm
In the midst of my chaos.
April 12
An anniversary
Of an event
Meaningful only in fiction.
Still
A date many of us fans
Cherish
And celebrate.
Happy Anniversary Vincent
Happy Anniversary Catherine
We're very glad
You met.
So much to do
So little energy...
April 13
A friend's birthday.
Very glad you were born
My friend.
So many wonderful
Characters
I would never have met
If you hadn't been.
Thanks for sharing
Your talents
And your joy
Your smile is incandescent
And your hugs
And good wishes
Are cherished
As is your caring.
You are family.
You are loved.
April 14
Good Friday.
Again.
The church year rolls along
On its well oiled cogs
Though it seems we just got done with
Christmas,
Lent was soon upon us,
And now Holy Week
And Easter waiting in the wings.
So swiftly the years pass.
And still we wait in hope
Living our faith as best we can
Struggling even more now
Against the hate and the evil
Our world seems to delight in
(At least, some in our world seem to.)
Midnight cocktail
I've heard of a midnight snack,
But tonight,
I made myself
A midnight cocktail.
It's a small thing, a little pleasure
Something to help sleep along
Something fun to mix and measure
And then enjoy.
Sweet, like dessert,
But packing a little punch.
What a lovely thing
To relax me
And make me smile.
They ask if I can tell
When I was "saved"
Well,
When I have known You all my life,
When You have ALWAYS been there
When I was scared, when I was alone,
When things got too real,
How can I put a time on it?
I have ALWAYS known You love me.
Always.
It was in the very air I breathed as a child.
Love.
Your love
Family love
Friends love
Love of our beautiful world,
Always love, boundless,
Endless,
Forever.
Lord, You have ALWAYS been there.
How can I explain to someone who doesn't know
That love?
How can I even articulate the assurance
I have always had
That though I fret,
And worry
And expect the worst from life,
I KNOW You will catch me
If I fall.
I KNOW
Because You love me.
And I love you.
Always.
Waiting
Is not something
I do well.
Time wasting,
Now that, I excel at!
April 9
Today the crowd shouts Hosanna!
By Friday, that changes to Crucify!
How very fickle are humans
How swift to vilify.
It has always been so
Consistent only
In our Inconsistency.
In our seeming scorn
Of empathy.
Some try to change
To heed the call of him
Who came to suffer
Try to leave behind the selfish sins
Strive to help others.
On this day, I must reflect
I am guilty of doing as many do
Of going along to reject
The needs of other folk
Instead of standing up for what
I know is right and true.
The point of this whole story we read
On this Sunday every year
Is that though we fall short,
If we still try
Our efforts are seen and rewarded,
Our fumbles are forgiven,
And we must forgive one another
And remember to love
As we have been loved.
Lost Music
My voice is rough
Vocal cords covered
With something that
Won't budge
Cutting off notes
Adding a crackle
Where there should be
Smoothness
No lessons for 2 months
My teacher has been ill.
So, not enough practice
Things have gotten rusty.
It is frustrating.
For I desire
That soaring sound
That feeling of wonder
That I can produce such
And I could
Once upon a time.
I only pray that
I will again.
Soon.
April 10
All day long
My head in a spin
So many lists
Where to begin?
Sorting and packing
Laundry and cleaning,
Shopping and budgeting
I'm done in!
April 11
Today's Cohen Lyrics are
"In My Secret Life"
"I saw you this morning
You were moving so fast
Can't seem to loosen my grip
On the past.
And I miss you so much.
There's no one in sight.
And we're still making love
In my secret life."
The psychology of the breakup again. One thinks Mr. Cohen knew entirely too much about the end of relationships.
Reading song lyrics and also
Matthew Arnold's poetry
It's Poetry Month...
A beautiful day
Calm, bright and lovely
Between the storms
That Spring
Loves to fling
Our way
Preparing to travel
Trying not to unravel
Making lists.
Packing bags
Fighting nerves
Striving to find calm
In the midst of my chaos.
April 12
An anniversary
Of an event
Meaningful only in fiction.
Still
A date many of us fans
Cherish
And celebrate.
Happy Anniversary Vincent
Happy Anniversary Catherine
We're very glad
You met.
So much to do
So little energy...
April 13
A friend's birthday.
Very glad you were born
My friend.
So many wonderful
Characters
I would never have met
If you hadn't been.
Thanks for sharing
Your talents
And your joy
Your smile is incandescent
And your hugs
And good wishes
Are cherished
As is your caring.
You are family.
You are loved.
April 14
Good Friday.
Again.
The church year rolls along
On its well oiled cogs
Though it seems we just got done with
Christmas,
Lent was soon upon us,
And now Holy Week
And Easter waiting in the wings.
So swiftly the years pass.
And still we wait in hope
Living our faith as best we can
Struggling even more now
Against the hate and the evil
Our world seems to delight in
(At least, some in our world seem to.)
Midnight cocktail
I've heard of a midnight snack,
But tonight,
I made myself
A midnight cocktail.
It's a small thing, a little pleasure
Something to help sleep along
Something fun to mix and measure
And then enjoy.
Sweet, like dessert,
But packing a little punch.
What a lovely thing
To relax me
And make me smile.
They ask if I can tell
When I was "saved"
Well,
When I have known You all my life,
When You have ALWAYS been there
When I was scared, when I was alone,
When things got too real,
How can I put a time on it?
I have ALWAYS known You love me.
Always.
It was in the very air I breathed as a child.
Love.
Your love
Family love
Friends love
Love of our beautiful world,
Always love, boundless,
Endless,
Forever.
Lord, You have ALWAYS been there.
How can I explain to someone who doesn't know
That love?
How can I even articulate the assurance
I have always had
That though I fret,
And worry
And expect the worst from life,
I KNOW You will catch me
If I fall.
I KNOW
Because You love me.
And I love you.
Always.
April 15
A song that makes me think of friends
Of a smile
And a hug
Or two
And sharing stories
And memories
And laughter
It is joy
And love like this
Shall live far longer
Than all of us.
April 16
Off we go
Flying away
On Easter Day
Going to see friends
To see the sights
And other delights
Unsure of my reaction
To such a different place
Yes, I've lived near
And visited big cities before
L.A. and Frankfurt
But they are not New York, New York.
Not as densely populated
Makes me wonder
If I'll feel too
Emotionally crowded.
I had almost forgotten
The small discomforts
That attend air travel
Sitting for so long in one place
When I am a creature
Who likes to pace
Dehydrated because
I don't want to be
In uncomfortable need
Of a restroom.
But headache prone
Because I'm dehydrated.
Catch 22
On airplanes
My penmanship
Suffers greatly.
It could also be
Lack of sleep
Slumber eluded me
For far too long
Last night.
Easter Sunday
Joyous day of resurrection.
And we are not in church.
But for a happy reason
This year.
We are flying to meet friends
So though we will miss
That glorious service
We will still remember the reason for it
And we do rejoice.
So tired
But so happy
Happy to spend time
With friends
Friends I "speak" with
Often
But almost never see
Face to face
Tomorrow stands before us
A great day to go forth and
Explore together!
April 17
Trying to soak up all I can...
Horns are frequently used here.
There is a fire station
And an ambulance station
Near
Lots of tall buildings, of course,
And people.
My allergies have not been
Bothering me so far
Seems both familiar
And strange
Visiting with Fi, Geoff and Hayden
Mary of course, is familiar, and a welcome source of laughter,
New York Impressions
New Yorkers have traffic signal
Radar that allows them to know
They can start across the street
Safely, even if the "walk" signal hasn't
fully engaged yet.
My allergies have not made an appearance
Since we left Oklahoma.
New York is full of characters
Like Donald, one of the bellmen at the hotel,
And the guy who was narrating our bus tour this morning.
Our room at the Dumont is gorgeous.
The views are terrific!
April 18
This has been such a lot of input to process.
Beautiful lights
Tall buildings
Good friends
Good food,
Good times
Nice people
Even in New York!
Not enough time
Never saw so much hurrying
That still slowed you down-
The traffic is something else.
Eight people in a group
Can straggle out a LONG way
On a crowded sidewalk!
Oh, I am going to miss this view!!
Trying to soak up all I can...
Horns are frequently used here.
There is a fire station
And an ambulance station
Near
Lots of tall buildings, of course,
And people.
My allergies have not been
Bothering me so far
Seems both familiar
And strange
Visiting with Fi, Geoff and Hayden
Mary of course, is familiar, and a welcome source of laughter,
New York Impressions
New Yorkers have traffic signal
Radar that allows them to know
They can start across the street
Safely, even if the "walk" signal hasn't
fully engaged yet.
My allergies have not made an appearance
Since we left Oklahoma.
New York is full of characters
Like Donald, one of the bellmen at the hotel,
And the guy who was narrating our bus tour this morning.
Our room at the Dumont is gorgeous.
The views are terrific!
April 18
This has been such a lot of input to process.
Beautiful lights
Tall buildings
Good friends
Good food,
Good times
Nice people
Even in New York!
Not enough time
Never saw so much hurrying
That still slowed you down-
The traffic is something else.
Eight people in a group
Can straggle out a LONG way
On a crowded sidewalk!
Oh, I am going to miss this view!!
April 19
A sad anniversary.
Twenty two years
And a whole lot of tears
Since 1995.
Flying home to OKC
On such a day.
It was a beautiful morning.
Like today is up here above
The clouds,
And without warning,
Smoke billows
And screams rise
Chaos
In the the very heart
Of our little city
We are leaving behind a city
That sent us help
And then needed ours
A few years later.
OKC loves NYC
And we grieve your losses, too.
So tired.
Everybody else's cranky
Rubs off on me.
Really easily annoyed
And that's not usually me.
Strange how the music
Of New York City
Stays in your head
Even after you leave
Horns, and buses, trucks,
Subway rattles,
The Growlers on the firetrucks
Part of the little symphony
We heard for the last three days.
Home now to wind
In the wind chimes
And the freight train sonata
All night long.
Home
And the sounds so similar
To where I've been
Stand out now-
Never noticed before really
The constant traffic noise from
The highway not too distant,
The grumble rumble and screech
Of trucks coming and going from
The food plant across 12th
The occasional beep beep -
Though nowhere NEAR as much as in New York-
of horns
When somebody stops because
They want to turn off 12th Street
During what passes for Rush Hour
Around here.
No growler sirens here, though,
and No tall building canyons for the sound
To bounce around in.
But we DO have freight trains.
Loud, obnoxious, and smelly.
At the little Italian place we had dinner in the first night,
I had a Tiramisu Martini with my dessert.
Tried my hand at it:
1.5 oz Vanilla Vodka
1.5 oz Creme de Cacao
1.5oz cooled espresso
.5 oz Bailey's
Shake well, pour into glass rimmed with a mixture of cocoa powder, espresso powder, and a wee bit of sugar. Save some of the mixture to sprinkle lightly over the finished drink.
Good.
Dear New York
By C.K.Armistead
4/19/17
O beautiful
And storied city
I had long
Resisted your charms.
At last I allowed
Myself to see
How beautiful
You can be
And now
I feel unequal
To the task
Of putting words
To how I felt
Standing on your streets
Seeing your sights
And twinkling lights
Your people to meet
At your tables to eat
Overwhelmed
With your generosity
Of images
Sounds
Tastes
Smells
Experiences.
I need more time
To spend with you.
Perhaps then
I'll know if it's true
That this L.A. baby
Is in love
With New York City.
April 20
A day of yardwork
Shopping
And errands
Time now to unwind
And just stop
Wishing I'd had time
While we were in NYC
Just to sit with that
Wonderful view
And ponder it
And how it made me feel
Alas, I need to be alone
For that,
And as much as I love Matt,
When we are in the same room,
Which we were at the hotel, constantly.
I can't be alone,
And I need the alone time
To process it and capture it.
Fortunately,
I have the patio here
Or my office
And that view,
Well, I made photos
And it lives in my heart's eye.
Well, hello there nose that is stuffy
And yet drippy at the same time
I did NOT miss you
I am very glad YOU didn't come to New York too.
Hello, Oklahoma:
Land of 10,000 pollens
April 21
Clearing the decks
Gearing up
To get back to the grind.
Yet I still have
The tall buildings
Of New York on my mind.
April 23
A sad anniversary.
Twenty two years
And a whole lot of tears
Since 1995.
Flying home to OKC
On such a day.
It was a beautiful morning.
Like today is up here above
The clouds,
And without warning,
Smoke billows
And screams rise
Chaos
In the the very heart
Of our little city
We are leaving behind a city
That sent us help
And then needed ours
A few years later.
OKC loves NYC
And we grieve your losses, too.
So tired.
Everybody else's cranky
Rubs off on me.
Really easily annoyed
And that's not usually me.
Strange how the music
Of New York City
Stays in your head
Even after you leave
Horns, and buses, trucks,
Subway rattles,
The Growlers on the firetrucks
Part of the little symphony
We heard for the last three days.
Home now to wind
In the wind chimes
And the freight train sonata
All night long.
Home
And the sounds so similar
To where I've been
Stand out now-
Never noticed before really
The constant traffic noise from
The highway not too distant,
The grumble rumble and screech
Of trucks coming and going from
The food plant across 12th
The occasional beep beep -
Though nowhere NEAR as much as in New York-
of horns
When somebody stops because
They want to turn off 12th Street
During what passes for Rush Hour
Around here.
No growler sirens here, though,
and No tall building canyons for the sound
To bounce around in.
But we DO have freight trains.
Loud, obnoxious, and smelly.
At the little Italian place we had dinner in the first night,
I had a Tiramisu Martini with my dessert.
Tried my hand at it:
1.5 oz Vanilla Vodka
1.5 oz Creme de Cacao
1.5oz cooled espresso
.5 oz Bailey's
Shake well, pour into glass rimmed with a mixture of cocoa powder, espresso powder, and a wee bit of sugar. Save some of the mixture to sprinkle lightly over the finished drink.
Good.
Dear New York
By C.K.Armistead
4/19/17
O beautiful
And storied city
I had long
Resisted your charms.
At last I allowed
Myself to see
How beautiful
You can be
And now
I feel unequal
To the task
Of putting words
To how I felt
Standing on your streets
Seeing your sights
And twinkling lights
Your people to meet
At your tables to eat
Overwhelmed
With your generosity
Of images
Sounds
Tastes
Smells
Experiences.
I need more time
To spend with you.
Perhaps then
I'll know if it's true
That this L.A. baby
Is in love
With New York City.
April 20
A day of yardwork
Shopping
And errands
Time now to unwind
And just stop
Wishing I'd had time
While we were in NYC
Just to sit with that
Wonderful view
And ponder it
And how it made me feel
Alas, I need to be alone
For that,
And as much as I love Matt,
When we are in the same room,
Which we were at the hotel, constantly.
I can't be alone,
And I need the alone time
To process it and capture it.
Fortunately,
I have the patio here
Or my office
And that view,
Well, I made photos
And it lives in my heart's eye.
Well, hello there nose that is stuffy
And yet drippy at the same time
I did NOT miss you
I am very glad YOU didn't come to New York too.
Hello, Oklahoma:
Land of 10,000 pollens
April 21
Clearing the decks
Gearing up
To get back to the grind.
Yet I still have
The tall buildings
Of New York on my mind.
April 23
The sun is back
Painting the world
With colors again
It was so grey
And wet here
The last few days.
Spring
Is both
Beautiful
And Brutal
Here
On the plains.
Some of our
Most dangerous
Days
Are in Spring.
My hip
Has decided
To pain me.
Not the left one
This time
The right.
Try as I might
I cannot find
A reason
For it to hurt me
I've about decided
To quit
Trying
To find it.
Lazy Sunday
Afternoon
Full of lunch
And nothing to do:
Sleepy
But I don't dare nap.
A headache
Is almost the most
Unbearable thing
Except when
Experiencing nausea along
With it.
Then it feels
As if the world
Is an evil carnival ride-
Making you dizzy and sick-
That will not end.
A moving house of mirrors
With no escape.
Only thing missing
Is the evil cackling
Clown.
Oh, wait,
He's in the White House...
April 25
A lovely day
A threat of bad weather
Tonight.
Trying to get back
In the swing
Of things
When I really want
To daydream
About New York.
About time
And space
I didn't have
To sit with
A cup of coffee
And people watch
Of museums I didn't get
To wander in.
Of being unhurried
Instead of rushed.
Of savoring
Instead of just tasting.
Right now, the muse is
Frustrated
Because I haven't
Sat still yet
With the impressions
Of New York
I need to work on an idea
To help me
Sit with
Some of those images
And listen to them speak.
April 27
3:05 AM
Once again
My mind
Keeps me awake
Wandering streets
I haven't stood on
In more than 40 years
And then the streets
I saw just last week.
It ambles also
On the hillside
Where my parents lie
With the others
Who have done with
This world.
A hillside that 30 years ago
Was open to the sky
And had a view
All the way
To downtown L.A.
But now
Is enclosed by trees
That have grown huge
Feeding on the dreams
Of the dead.
3: 40 PM
And now,
Perverse brain
Of mine,
You crave sleep and quiet
In the midst of a busy day.
You can't keep in step
With me at all.
Or perhaps it is the world
That is perverse
And refuses to keep in step
With me!
April 30
Last day
Of Poetry Month.
Last chance to try
To be disciplined enough
To craft an image in words.
I have not been consistent
This year.
Too many distractions
Taking my attention
And scattering it
To the wind like
So much confetti
Flying everywhere
But where I wanted it.
So
For another year
I am back to just
Occasional posts
When something good
Lands in the journal.
Thanks to those
Who took time to read.
I hope you have not
Been bored.
For boredom is just so grey
And lifeless
And this month has been anything
But that.
Grey days,
Maybe.
But with very bright green foliage
And a few un-tattered blooms
That survived the Oklahoma Spring
So far.
And there has been joy
And music
And the exploration of a new place
For me this month.
May all your days to come
Be filled with images
That burst into your heart
And make it sing
And give you words
And give you wings.
April 30
Last day
Of Poetry Month.
Last chance to try
To be disciplined enough
To craft an image in words.
I have not been consistent
This year.
Too many distractions
Taking my attention
And scattering it
To the wind like
So much confetti
Flying everywhere
But where I wanted it.
So
For another year
I am back to just
Occasional posts
When something good
Lands in the journal.
Thanks to those
Who took time to read.
I hope you have not
Been bored.
For boredom is just so grey
And lifeless
And this month has been anything
But that.
Grey days,
Maybe.
But with very bright green foliage
And a few un-tattered blooms
That survived the Oklahoma Spring
So far.
And there has been joy
And music
And the exploration of a new place
For me this month.
May all your days to come
Be filled with images
That burst into your heart
And make it sing
And give you words
And give you wings.
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