Dark looks the same to me;
Long nights, short nights,
Summer or winter,
Outside my childhood window
Or just last night.
Dark is dark,
And it all looks the same.
But then the sunrise comes,
Every morning different,
Hazy purple clouds,
Brilliant streaks of pink and gold,
Aqua, peach and tangerine.
Sometimes it slowly creeps
Hand over hand to the horizon’s edge
While I sip from my mug
And ponder the spreading ripples of day.
Next morning,
A rip in the clouds and it bursts with speed
That takes my breath away.
Sometimes no painted sky at all,
Just light filtered through clouds,
But light nevertheless.
The dark times of life all look the same,
No shades of black, just black.
Then God has a way
Of sending the light in different hues
At different speeds
At different times
For different needs and different pain.
Dark is always dark,
But the sunrise is legion in its joy




Next tag - stains

Stains...
visible reminders of a spill of juice,
or a tumble in the grass,
or a muddy tackle....
recieved while having fun with loved ones.

Stains...
invisible reminders of a sharp word,
a hurtful stare,
a mocking laugh,
a face turned away...i
ntentional or not... leaving marks on the soul.

Stains...
some lessened with bleach or soda water or a good scrubbing...
some lessened with apologies and forgiveness and sincere hugs.

Stains...
some easier to wear...
some easier to bear...
seen or unseen...
on your clothing or in your heart....
fresh or faded...
but there.


tag -you're "it" - try 'web'

WEB


It was only a tiny fib at first
To show me a step above the worst,
A filament so slight and fine
I barely noticed its arm on mine.
The next spun quickly, without a thought,
Lay next to the first and hindered me not,
A tickle on skin, and a gossamer one
That I thought quite pretty and rather fun.
The next and the next spun stronger still
And I smiled that I could produce them at will,
Proud and smug as the delicate strands
Wound through my fingers and clung to my hands.
As strand after strand glowed brighter and brighter
I missed the change as they slowly grew tighter,
‘Til I started to choke as they covered my face;
I tripped then fell as they shortened my pace.
I tried in vain panic to brush them away,
But now they were legion, and woven to stay,
A tangled web of deceit so tight
That I couldn’t wrest free with all of my might.
As light as a cobweb that fragile first lie,
But now they are cables and I am the fly.



Next tag: Sunday

Hello, i am back but just for a little time. this for everyone!

I am going to try this out, here we go

SUNDAY

Seven days and seven suns. I don`t understand
Now, how these days are done.
Are we suppose to wonder, for
Years around to figure it all out??

This sounds stupid or awful to me, sorry.


Next Tag : New Years

New year,
New day,
New beginning...
Old body
Old problems
Old attitude...
I can’t go back
I can go on
I can hold on...
God is able
God is good.


Next tag: Nostalgia

Tag: Nostalgia

~~~~~~~~~~~~~
a bit tattered

a bit scratched

a little faded

and a little cracked

a little torn

a little patched

a little of this

and a bit of that

sometimes the little is quite a lot

that can't be restored

and has to be trashed

but the feeling is always

fuzzy and warm

soul's a blazing

with memories past

faded photos of my dad

scratched up records of his past

little torn shirt of nana's time

extra warmth as blanket top

blowing dusts off the arenose frame

grandpa's smile's just the same

til this day I still do wear

the jeans my mama neatly patched

one day I hope to be all of that

my grandkids' cracked, patched, dusty mug...

I hope when they hold

their grandpa's past

nostalgia will warm

hearts

forever last...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

tag: left and right

I look to the right
But lean to the left
And not just politically, either
It’s one of those symptoms
They say is atypical

Even left-handers were made to feel different in the 50’s
The 50’s were so uptight
No wonder it took the 60’s
To make the wrongs right

To be left is the worst feeling
Worse than being alone in the beginning
Even left standing on the curb when the yellow turns to red
And the crowd walks ahead leaving you there, feels significant

Left, Right, Left, Right
The slow wipers swing
Lulling me into momentarily forgetting
about the beginning and the end
And everything bad in between

If you have been left
To your own devices to cope
I will try to be there for you
And help you find hope


It's right to be here
It's right to be me
It's right to be them
And it's right to be you




next up: oh gosh, too much pressure. How about colors and reasons...take a wild card and pick 2 words you like.

colors as reasons I can think of a few things
the autumn beauty,so brilliant, to your heart it sings
songs of beauty and splendor nature holds deep in its soul
creating images that from your mind shall never go
slowly autumns colors fade as the winter gets it grip
a colder dawn with barren tress and to the air a nip
then the colors change again as we get a blanket of snow
so pure and white so soft and sound
a blanket of purity covers the ground
snow angels snowman and ice castles too
snowball fights snow forts perhaps a day off of school
the melting comes slowly showing us another change
spring time weather approaches as winter wanes
slowly the brownness turns to green as the flowers awake
natures cycles a blessing, as the ices melts on the lake
krokus and daffodils spring forth from the ground so stout
the air is warmer the snow is less your so happy you shout
shouts for joy, over comes your heart with the changing of the seasons
thus you know when colors change, yes there is always a reason


tag you is it


"picnics"

It's not my turn yet, but I have to take the picnic one!

A picnic is my favorite fantasy
Sitting on a blanket with my one true love
Food in the basket long since forgotten
Feeling so full when we leave
I won’t need to eat for weeks

A picnic with my sweet little girl
She helped me make the finger foods
Grinning at me through a peanut butter smile
She says momma, “ I want to be just like you!”
Hoping I can be worthy

A picnic with my robust boy
He’s rolling down the hill, too busy to be hungry
We laugh for awhile and throw sticks
Give blanket rides to each other and end up
Throwing the food to the ducks

A picnic with my mom and dad
Long gone on their journey to heaven
But still here in my mind and heart and life
Saying all of the things we said long ago
But even sweeter now with the retelling

A picnic is a lovely feast
There is something about the conscious thought
Of putting together one’s favorite foods to share
With chosen ones in a chosen spot
That makes the partaking almost ceremonial

Hand squeezed lemonade and crunchy chicken
Pots of cheese and bread with olive oil for dipping
Only the finest (read that cheap, cold, and sweet) wine will do
And most of all, to my picnic today
I wish I could invite all of you



Next up: serendipity

wow that was good Sue, I liked the i want to be like you mommy through peanut butter smiles, i could actually picture her,

there are no turns or at least thats how gladys and i started it, I have not been about as much lately, so that may of changed, who ever wants to take on the tag subject, go for it

tag is still serendipity