The day starts okay,

normal, like yesterday, just --


slightly different.

I close my eyes, and sleep, my rest earned
The day's done, let tomorrow itself worry
If my eyes yet open, lest filled with songs
I lay still, and let the day itself worry
Thus I rise soul renewed spirit uplifted
Before dawn, at noon, the next day, or never

What keeps the dark away?
And keeps the wick alight?
Let's create a poem a day
It is not that difficult to write

Doesn't need to be a masterpiece
Just need some time and consistency
It doesn't even need to rhyme
Just meanings upon meanings, and words within words

Use puns, irony, simile, or hyperbole
Tools to use at your disposal are many

Free form or haiku,
Just write, time and time again
Embrace consistency

Write without hesitation, but be sure to re-read
For mistakes can be made, and improvements can be done
Not chasing for perfection, just a product pleasing to the eye
May it contribute to the reader, more than it did to the writer

Now come on, follow that blinking cursor and type
Grab your respective writing utensils and weave the words
These poems ain't writing themselves
And the day is not done

Dusk is a promise of Dawn
As long as Life is LORD
And night can be long
As it was once years ago
A day in many thousands
An utterly unworldly terror
Or briefly: Old to New Moon
Or Three Days and Nights
Evil prophesies and rejoices
At Dusk, Night without End
Indeed it shall be, a Shadow
Of Day, A Day without End

roundabout poem (another poem, another day)

<>

the notion punches into my mouth when
chilling , deleting and wasting time *pro=ductively
(professionally ducking responsibilities)
with no home to go to, but to write with purposeful
meandering, in a roundabout manner,
on a Saturday, luxury~leisurely in bed with runs
for asiago bagels and blue mountain coffee,
and wondering why you would read this, and
losing my debate internal & and infernal if
this is worth my time, nonetheless the urging
is only purging by clicking clacking on a keyboard,
inviting you to join me  under my cozy
floral coverlet, and to enjoy my pastoral view,
of water, women and why not, a trilogy of

factorials (or is it factorals? permutations or combinations) *another poem, another day)

panoramic bleeding view unceasingly changing,
reflecting god’s mood swings or an atheist’s humbuggery)

and women lies beside me, guilty pleasure, mine or hers😉, becoming part, a parcel upon the land/waterscape/escape, with sun rays invisible yet blindingly make me glinting and squinting,
and wet grass, dripping trees,  and going round and round, so
stray thots evolving/revolving and thus
this roundabout poem deserves a decent burial,
so I thank it, thank you, thank her, and the sky
and the glisten of a wet drenched everything,
a Saturday~Sabbath on which a poem was delivered
from me within, in a cesarean eruption,
my child blessed, sent to you with gratitude,
a much underrated emotion, but which occupies
me frequently when your days go dimmer,
and the

mind is sharply focused/used on about
what is value,
valuable, and what shall be valued on this damp
rainfall rainfull wordfull wonderful momentary
escapery into being together with…you, silly!

writ  pre-noon,
Saturday~Sabbath,
(on S.I., by the Sound’s calming waters
where the poems fall from trees on a glider
of wet leaves, or fly by on a modest mph breeze,
looking for human sense to grab aholt of for
canning and preservation…come see for yourself….*)

In the heart of the university maze,
We found each other.
Laughter echoed through lecture halls,
Jokes and secrets within those four walls.

We shared dreams, fears, and plans,
Unconditional love.
In the library's hush, in the campus green,
Your presence was the best I'd ever seen.

But last month, the world went still,
Your absence, a void nothing can fill.
Butterflies now bring a silent tear,
Sunflowers bloom, but you're not here.

Brownies we ate with bittersweet care,
Your laughter, a whisper I still hear.
Memories of you fill my days,
Memories of you warm my soul.

In every butterfly, I see your gaze.
In every sunflower, I see your smile.

As the day
closes, and the
night slides in.
The big fish hunt
in shallow water.

The old dog
leaves home to
die alone.
Orphans cry for
love
and the arrogant
choke on
rotten meat.

The libraries
become hostels
and owls
break the backs
of tom-cats on
the prowl.
The ***** is gone
and the cigarettes too.

And somewhere
in this silly
world, a father kisses
his daughter good night.