The Whisper of Words

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I had the pleasure of sharing the creative process with a very talented writer and friend.  Sage Doyle and I put our heads together and this is the result.  If you had not been to his blog, please clink on the link here to check out his brilliance.

The Whisper of Words

Words are delivered in whispers

from poets who have gone long before,

channeling rhymes of wisdom

not to be dismissed as folklore.

So much to be said about words

as we speak of deprived clarity

and words restrained from whispers

disguise our private realities.

Tortured voices of writers,

struggling to capture their muse,

float like feathers in currents of air,

pain and reality infused.

The books become bitter corpses

with nothing but the scent

of musty pages and forgotten shelves

while they await the passing dissent.

The words will live long after

the pages no longer have form.

Those whispers of writers before us

take life and begin to transform.

You could be

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You could be the one I was meant to be with

You could be the one I think of as I fall into my dreams

You could be my waking thought

You could be the one I want to share my laughter with

And you could be the shoulder I was meant to cry on

You could be the one who appreciates my strengths

And you could be the one to challenge my weaknesses

You could be the soul that was searching for mine

You could be

You could be the sun in my cloudy day

You could be the rain in my drought

You could be my voice of reason

And you could be the balance in my scale

You could be the one I turn to in times of stress

You could be the voice that makes me smile

You could be the one who makes me believe in fate

And you could be the one I should have met years ago

You could be

I feel my temperature rising

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Heat stealing my resolve,

lethargy setting in.

Too tired to write.

Blood reaching the boiling point.

Humidity envelops my skin,

melting the marks that make me who I am.

I exist in a puddle of sweat.

Fan only blows molecules of my existence through the air.

I feel like an egg on asphalt

bubbling on the surface and fried.

egg on pavement

(image credit: flickr.com)

Not enough energy to install A/C.

Mercury is no match for my inner thermometer.

Cold shower water pierces my skin like jagged knives.

Steam escapes.

A welcome release.

Funny ha-ha or funny ridiculous?

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Oh Daily Prompt, how timely you are!!  I was sitting on my deck on Wednesday night and out of nowhere began to remember lines from this poetic joke I heard as a teenager.  I may have missed parts….but the fact that I could actually remember this much of it thirty years later isn’t so bad!!

Now listen very carefully,

it’s as simple as can be.

The place is Piccadilly,

the players, he and she.

I don’t know how to do it,

she said with fearful eyes.

It’s getting rather painful,

it must be quite a size.

Now calm yourself my darling,

his face beheld a grin.

Just open slightly wider,

so I can get it in.

Suddenly with a startled cry,

she gave a little shout.

Only a little blood was shed,

and then he pulled it out.

Now as you listen carefully,

it’s a dentist you will find.

It’s not what you were thinking,

it’s just your dirty mind.

Happy Father’s Day – a message to Heaven

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My dad passed away over seven years ago.  I miss his smile, I miss his laugh and I miss the good times we used to have.  This is a poem I wrote when they dedicated a freshly planted tree and and a plaque to him in our new community park after his passing.  Happy Father’s Day to my dad and to all the dads out there.  I hope you are able to create memories with your kids that will last a lifetime.

new-52

(my dad)

~

We give these gifts of nature in your name,

To forever keep you near.

To take root in a place you kept close to your heart,

And represent the things you hold dear.

Your rock will remind us to always be strong,

And to remain solid in the lives we love.

And follow in the examples you gave us in life,

As you look on us from above.

Your tree will remind us to accept the changes,

Of seasons that come and go.

As the tree becomes bare at times in our life,

New leaves will blossom in time to show.

That nature is beautiful and life has a season,

but all things do come to an end.

And with each change and leaf that is lost,

Family and friendships help mend.

Branches sway in the winds of time,

And your whispers will be heard in the breeze.

Your memory lives on in the nature around us,

The air, the rocks, the trees.

Texture in the sky

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textured clouds

Scattered formations of moisture

surf their way into the rain.

creating visions of cartoon faces

and textures that wish to remain.

The enemy of wind changes their shape

and alters the look of the sky.

But the clouds dance in those glorious breezes

and embrace the purest way to fly.

The serpent

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sky 015

The serpent follows the horizon,

devouring life in its path.

Only the sky and the treetops

feel the true power of its wrath.

Wildlife runs for cover,

Nature cowers in its wake.

The beast only knows hunger,

it’s searching for souls to take.

Hunger rises from within,

it feeds on the energy of life.

The sky wants to charm the beast,

but the serpent cuts like a knife.

The beast crests on the line of the trees,

mouth hungry and fueled by thirst.

Its longing for life and stolen blood

many times have been rehearsed.

Its rise and fall with the blowing wind

will follow the line of the trees.

But its ever longing hunger for life

will forever float in the breeze.

Mom

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mom-holding-baby

She birthed me and swaddled me,

she showered me with love.

Her arms always embraced me,

they fit me like a glove.

Her words were the only ones,

that could help to heal my scars.

Hers was the only light,

that would comfort me in the dark.

She woke me up to play with me,

she laughed at all my jokes.

She sang with me to old musicals,

although she couldn’t hold the notes.

Her faith in my abilities,

has stood the test of time.

She’s the portrait of what a mother should be,

and I’m glad that she is mine.

So, here’s to you, mom, on this special day,

my love for you has no end.

You’re my giver of life, my confidant,

and will always be my best friend.

Happy Mother’s Day.

The Storm Rumbles On – Trifextra Post

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The passing wind whooshed by,

leaving the drips of rain scattered.

The clap of thunder resonates,

the crack of lightning left a mark that mattered.

The storm rumbles on,

leaving the earth tattered.

~

Written for the Trifextra Post: On to the weekend challenge.  This weekend we want you to give us 33 words (exactly) that include among them at least one example of onomatopoeia.  When looking for a good page to link to in order to help describe the device, we stumbled upon our very own Apoplectic Apostrophes‘ post on literary devices.  Check it out if you need help remembering how onomatopoeia work.

Before the storm – Romantic Monday

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before-the-storm-logo

Thunder clouds in the distance

the promise of a storm to come

his touch is firm on my flesh

the earth is waiting to succumb

to the reign of terror in the sky

the promise of a fury unleashed

the air is electric, feelings are charged

mother nature is in control of the beast

blue sky falls into the abyss

the ceiling of night turns to gray

energy ignites with the coming storm

feelings, for now, are at bay

his grip remains strong on my skin

his eyes search for the sign

thunder crashes, lightning explodes

the moods begin to align

I turn to him under mottled clouds

the earth opens its spring

water cascades over exposed flesh

the symphony of love starts to sing

his touch brings more power

than the lightning casts from the sky

bodies churn in the shower of rain

under the cover of nigh

before the storm the feeling lived

but now its fury is unleashed

hands roam, bodies entwine

the power of nature is released

his body is mine, and mine is his

the storm can not debate

 the true love felt under stormy skies

the honesty of love will not wait

~

Romantic Monday seems to inspire the poet in me.   I took the subject line literally and the storm seemed to bring something out in me.  Thanks Edward Hotspur!