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 Aug 2016 Zack Gilbert
ryn
Garb
 Aug 2016 Zack Gilbert
ryn
I am a garb.
An outfit.

I am now in season.
And in trend.
I am well loved.
Well received.

But fads pass...
What used to be the rage
will eventually fade.

What used to be sought after
will inadvertently be shelved.
And forgotten.

So wear me now.
Fill me full.
As you grow,
my sleeves would shorten.
And seams would burst.

Wear me now.
For I am your garb.
And I still fit.
She sat among the broken glass,
Opened her mouth to hear the rasp,
of smoke filled lungs
and a broken heart.
Pain she knew would never pass.

The world flew by, without a glance.
And in the mirror her reflection danced,
a web of lies,
And sunken eyes,
Glassy in a trance.

He looked up at the broken light,
About his throat a rope wound tight,
Calls for help fall on deaf ears,
Bystanders pass with hidden sneers,
not seeing him struggle in a fight.

Her spine arched as water beat,
On broken skin with burning heat,
Her mind whirled down,
In thoughts she drowned,
Blood pooling at her feet.
wrote this agesssss ago, I don't know what to think of it,but found it in the back of a draw.Thanks for reading :)
I arise in the morning
to a soft gentle dawn
All to worship and praise You
and to sing a new song
The leaves lightly play
in the soft summer breeze
And the birds are awaking
in Your beautiful trees

All creation is stirring,
and the darkness has passed
I gaze up at the sky so blue and so vast
I gaze up in wonder
at Your pink rolling hills
And I feel Your presence
and ask for Your will

The sun rises up in the palm of Your hand
And the light chases darkness
from the face of the land
I look 'round in great awe
and ask myself why?
Oh why would You do this
for a wretch such as i?

Clouds scuddle over
the skies where You bid
And the fish in the water
Go beneath and are hid
Vastly great is Your wisdom
so in part do we see...

I'll arise in the morning
You've given to me.



SoulSurvivor
(C) 7/26/2010
It's a beautiful morning here in Tucson. I love the dawn here in the springtime. The clouds are touched by gentle brushes of lavender, peach and light fuchsia.
The hills here roll like purple waves on a deep pond. As if it's been disturbed by angels.

God is SO good!

I'm going to be very busy this morning. There's a lot of work to be done in the house. I'm sure you know housework is an endless story told by a hausfrau who has a rather sadistic streak... I hate it! But it must be done.

Have a beautiful day! I hope this poem blesses your heart!
Roads stretch out, a lattice of scars etched into the land.
Asphalt and Tarmac rivers, crawling with lines of ***** machines.
Sectioning off nature.
I cannot hear the birds anymore.

A countryside blistered with towns, villages.
The sores of sprawling cities scattered across the earth,
Polluting the peace.
I cannot see the stars anymore.

Great factories spewing toxic smog,
Whilst mechanical beasts tear into the veins of the planet,
Ripping apart the landscape.
We are not blameless anymore.


We have ***** our world,
leaving in our wake:
War torn nations,
Plagued by starvation,
Human 'civilization'.
In progress. Any thoughts on improvement?
 Jul 2016 Zack Gilbert
ryn
We were building a boat.
A sea-worthy vessel made for two.
A cosy little nest,
a shell of the promise for me and you.

We made it sturdy...
From keel to hull.
We sang to each other
to oust the lull.

We spoke of the adventures,
together we'd avidly chase.
We braced for the storms,
we'd most likely face.

As the last drop of sweat...
Fell freely to our feet,
the boat was done.
What were once planks, was then complete.

I climbed aboard
and hoisted up the sail.
You lingered for a bit...
Seemingly cautious that the boat might fail.

The craft quickly drifted out to sea...
When the wind, the sail did willingly welcome.
I cried out to you so you could hop on...
So with me you could come.

But you simply stood there...
With a gaze incredibly deadpan.
As the currents pulled me further,
I only then realised...
That I was never your plan.
 Jul 2016 Zack Gilbert
Stephan
.

It has been found that given enough time
failure will find this destined loser
lurking in gallery tints
and water color fault lines

semi gloss replaced by flat

Painting abstract nothings
on a canvas made of words
Broken brushes stain the existing
balance with a voice that collects the remnants

speaking tarnished silver when silence should be golden

Pop art wastelands of dotted balloons
float above the ground where his face falls,
shamed and hidden, in plain sight
with eyes holding quarters of bygone years

melting clocks keep time with his idiocy

Impressionists laugh at his existence
in muted tone chuckles and turpentine snickers
Stretched on easels of dislodged glances
with splattered smocks tied in double knots

one size fits all

This palette of mixed memories
resting on mainstream notions, waits
for the end is sure to come
finding him alone with an empty imagination

and nothing but drop cloth dreams
 Jul 2016 Zack Gilbert
ryn
Odyssey
 Jul 2016 Zack Gilbert
ryn
Leave your world
Bring your all
A universe to be unfurled
A realm awaiting to enthral

Climb aboard
Slide into the seat
We are what we can afford
You and I... We make
our very own fleet

Strap yourself in
Get ready for the trip
The journey we were made for
Let us begin
The odyssey of our lives
In this here spaceship
You're like the harmony in my sad song
Tapping my feet while my melancholy sings
I hold your name at the tip of my tongue
Savoring it like my new favorite dish
Your eyes are the ones I get lost in
Finding the peace to guide me home at last
The best thing I have ever done in my life
Was to let you to course and pulse within me
I was the bit of darkness in your bright room
But i want to be the log that feeds your fire
The one that keeps you well lit year round
Shared on Hello Poetry on July 18, 2016
Copyright © 2016 Bianca Reyes
All rights reserved
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