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The doors, open
The home somewhat broken

By the stream
The poems we read

Missing from the home street
By the stream, meet

Read many, some new
Some you always knew

Time forsaken
Doors open, somewhat broken

Missing from the home street
Lost, maybe found

By the stream
The poems we read
Hp pages, latest  home front
Let's swim about, Peter
Mimic my sound

Speak my language
You precious bottle-nose

The trouble you have
With the letter M
Sure makes funny bubbles
Beneath the surface

What then should we talk of
This morning?
Miss Kelly, perhaps

Every room
Is an island, my child

Never isolate your love

Let it run to the sea
It's where I will always be
Thomas W. Case's Historical Figure Poetry Challenge, Margaret Howe Lovatt. In the 1960s, she took part in a NASA-funded research project in which she attempted to teach a dolphin named Peter to understand and mimic human speech. This while living in a half-submerged dwelling to have continuous contact with him.
Two rows of seeds
Gift wrapped in ***** of mud
Two I had planted in pots
In a month’s time, I remember
I plucked a few lady’s fingers
Lovely the produce
Soon they faded
Gardening and growing vegetables not my forte
Love plants, but tending to them and nurture
Not what I can do
So I further gift those seeds
Where they are nurtured and nourished
And the fruits and vegetables
Well produced
Inspired by a box of seeds which came in as a gift

Www.thebombaynaturalcompany.com

“Growing your own food is like printing your own money”

Inspiring words  :)


It’s dark and cold
Just before the dawn
Bedewed Baby leaves
Rare jewels shimmer under the street lamp
The birds have set their tune of mirth
It’s always the same with these birds
A new dawn, rising
They have welcomed
Just the same
What’s with these birds
I wish to know and learn
Do they do karaoke dawns
Someday, I wish to sing along
But today, as happy as them
I listen to their mirthful song
Listening to the birdsong ( 5:00 am)
10th July
The thoughts invisible
Invincible the cape of words
Now they haunt

Between keeping mum
And wanting to express
Lies the lies of quiet

Sometimes I write a lot
The Words, written
Sound better
Than the spoken

Strange is the world of words
Spoken and written
Both heard
All four set of words
Written at different times
Straight from the drafts

Puddles of joy
In the eyes of the little boy
Knew his favourite candy by the stick
Home deliveries, now real quick

Cleansing thoughts
In the word machine
Filigree of words
Wrought on the screen

The mountain tops covered in hues
Rainbow of flowers, on the plateau
White swans joined and prayed with folded heads
Grass turned green, the sky baby blue
The creator creates endless landscapes
Hello Poetry family, kindly please join me at 9PM ET in a prayer for just a minute. Thank You!

In Christ’s Name....Amen!
Stay Safe!
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