As a reward for my two-mile morning walk
Among the cookie-cutter homes,
And up and down the gentle hills,
Nevada flings the meaning of spectacular
Across the dawning sky.
A band of clouds that looks like giant scrambled eggs
First turns a neon cotton candy pink
With blue gray in the shadows.
As I walk with eyes turned up and wide,
It slowly morphs to brilliant golden.
Gasping at the beauty, not exertion from the walk,
I don’t need to look where I am going,
I know my feet will find the way.
At length the brilliant golden clouds
Begin to fade to silver gray and I am sad.
But then the Sun climbs over distant mountain tops
No doubt anxious to take a bow
For the breathtaking overature I’ve just seen
That will fill my day with sunlit memories
And remind me to next time bring my camera.
Wish I was a more lyrical writer. This deserved it.
Like the Pilgrims of history and ancient lore
We celebrate our first Thanksgiving
In a strange new place, far from the home we left
We journeyed over tempest tossed seas
And there were times we feared our craft would sink
But it was sturdy, and it did not fail
The natives didn’t notice our arrival
No stalks of corn or pumpkin gourds
But neither did they arm for an attack.
We found a place out of the storms
That greeted us with drenching rain
And and lit the skies at midnight.
We learned the way across the river
To a place where there was food for us
And those who offered what we need.
In time we met some friendly natives
Who welcomed us to their tribal dance
And taught us the steps, and about the weather
And how to survive in this new land
Of rocks and hills and gullies
That flood faster then you can run
And the season of the long hard heat
When everybody goes to ground or runs away
And only dire need forces you outdoors.
We captured an unfamiliar bird
That looks to provide a decent feast
And we are grateful we can eat
And shelter safely in this new place
That now will be our final home.
And prove to us that God is good.
A full-scale Turkey dinner for just the two of us. Next year we'll know more folks and can invite people. References: Over the river for food-All the shopping is on the Arizona side of the Colorado River. Laughlin is purely a bedroom community with a bunch of big casinos. We didn't know that before. The friendly natives are the members of the Square dance club we just joined. We are hopeless, but it so much fun.
The unfamiliar bird is a Butterball turkey. I had never used that brand before. California is full of Turkey farms and we ate local birds.
Oh having experience of negativity
So you lift yourself into positivity
In moving ‘tis the only way to go
The road into positivity,straight and true
In marking out the presence quality
Virtually confident in everything I do
Especially in a poetic way of life.
Oh no ! Is a word I never wish to use.
Simple positive thoughts, repairs all
If you’re feeling down , think positive.
Think how, and thank your lucky stars
I had in equal measure , good and bad
Very soon I forget the bad it fails to exist.
In a wink of an eye, I’m wholly positive
The luckiest man alive because of love.
Your Love, darling , keeps me positive.
Written by Philip November 23rd. 2018
Lying embedded in velvet gloom and night,
You and I are gazing up the northern hemisphere.
Within the sea of darkness is the stars' stained light.
Hidden inside the fabric of interstellar space,
Might be a kind of universal truth
That answers all the questions of human race.
Sensing the pull of the universe
I feel like we're lost between the infinite vastness
That none of us could ever dream to traverse.
Suddenly you get up on your knees -
Head in the sky and feet on the ground.
“Perhaps the stars only made us feel lost,
because we both wanted to be found.”
Maybe we all are just waiting to be found:)
Trapped in a cage with golden bars of light
Of ancient habit and direful duties;
Below the water crashed into the bight,
The whispering waves baiting with beauties.
But her shadow lurked around the coast,
Dashing her to the beach like drifting wood.
Preventing her from what she wanted the most
To reach new shores from where she stood.
She wanted to travel and sail the open sea
Beyond the shingle, seaweed and shells
Closer to the horizon where the birds flew free
Or to the arenaceous ground in diving bells.
And coming back to where she started
She found her seaside changed since she has parted.
Or did the widening horizon change her perceiving?
For returning was not the same as never leaving.
Dedicated to all those wandering souls who like to seek new horizons, who love travelling and experiencing the world with all its wonderful facets.
Each day is a day like day had before
I don't know if I can take anymore
There's pain in my bones; Weak feeling and sore
I question myself what this life is for
Don't know what's ahead; Don't know what's in store
As happiness hides behind a locked door
The pressure, it builds to find it before
The hourglass now has emptied what's stored
The light from me left; Although I'm not sure
If ever I had a light that was pure
My soul's on death's bed; No hope of a cure
The word's left unsaid; I'll always want more
Waves lapping against the rocky beach shore
Each time takes away; A heavenly chore
Was true of my joy; A tunnel was bored
Inside from my soul true self of me poured
I ******* out myself like a *****
Each day is a lie that I can't afford
I wish I was maimed; Insides had been gored
I can not explain; Knight falls on his sword
But I am no knight; More like one who's poor
Been chewed up, discarded; Fruit with no core
Tried sharing with you; A piece of me tore
But know you disliked; Did nothing but bore
This poem is not new; These words said before
I've whined and cried too like those I deplore
A task left to do; Must settle the score
Each day starts anew; Be happy once more
Written: November 15, 2018
All rights reserved.
[Iambic/Anapestic Mixed Tetrameter format]
She loves the music more than words,
While I'm caught up in sentences,
The nouns and verbs obliquely heard,
The slanting lines of innocence,
Too often at the end of nerves
To have our tongues make any sense,
With nothing more than broken words.
Mistakes are human, I've been told,
Forgiveness from a greater soul.
She says the songs don't sing her name,
And poetry has scant appeal.
She sings. I write. We're not the same.
And yet our kisses make a seal.
With time gone south and winter near,
I wish your legs, your lips were here.