The blush of the dawn is so relentless
driving into me it numbs all my senses,
Oh beauty of the heavens far above
You fill my heart with so much love,
Thus I turn my gaze up to this glorious sky
Watching all of these fluffy clouds passing by
Until finally the sun rises..

~ Umi

birds
heads under heaps of wings
suddenly stir

and
the telephone wire
is suddenly alive

with
songbird-gentle
chirps

with
owl-vicious
hoots

with
raven-mysterious
caws

and yes,
i know there are
too many poems

about birds
but you just have to remember
the raven

can mimic human speech
and sounds
so nevermore might not be such a stretch

that some ducks
sleep with one eye open
just like the women who lack trust

and that mockingbirds
can preserve songs
of extinct creatures

with bones too hollow
to stash anger or regret
and eyes bright enough
to see the daybreak
hours before all of us

The morning light creeps across the deck
Picking out the colours - Black becomes grey
Becomes a brighter hue, sparkling crystals
Reflections of salt flung spray

Witnessing the start of a new day
The beginning of a cycle of life -
Of death, success and failure.
Light pierces the eyes like a knife

The horizon line shifts,
Slitting sea from sky.
The detail defining as the light strengthens
Soon the trip below to be warm and dry.

Morning energy fills the upcoming crew, Those who have served the night
Slowly climb down the below
Anxious not to leave the day's new light.

To behold the daybreak!
-Walt Whitman, Song of Myself from Leaves of Grass

In days like this one,
when rain drops so light
& everything dips
into weeping grey
my sanity longs for memories.

My sanity longs
like impulsive recalling
of plummeting sadness
in greying day
sashaying mournful recollects
from sunrise to daybreak.

Remembering vanishes
in the joyful marrow of life.

There, forgetting lives.

Tell me the last time
bliss comforts your soul.

It is a transient tick
too stiff to evoke.

What about the last time
pain feigns your saneness.

Memories turned into bullets
slitting shrapnel
warping into my soul.

Happiness lasts for a second.
Sadness, a lifetime.

Tell me how to get rid
the hurting clout of ache
existing as a blunt fragment
benign yet reminisced.

Daybreak pours so hard
and my sanity like a waning light
crawls back in a miasmatic cave
along the river known
to be a home of a witch
& her cursing narrative
of throwing silver saucers
making her a spotless shadow
through vestal times
never again a thriving spirit.

Forget Blake. Forget Whitman.

Only in daybreak
where everything
churns into life,
my sanity shrinking back
collapsing
into surreal gaps.

Here & there,
my sanity longs for memories.

the brave look to the dawn to
see the fruit of their endeavors....
the frightened look to wash clean the awful marks
of their fear from their faces before the
dawn exposes their true nature......
she looks to the dawn with her hopeful heart
still wrapped in her lovers scent......
he looks to the dawn as the embers of
the camp fire still glows with the
memory of the nightwatch
lonesome with his horse as silent companion.....
the wise man can read the days true face in the
turbulent clouds of daybreak.....
while the fool sleeps soundly in the
shallow waters of delusions warm and
comforting dream.....
the drunkard stumbling homeward
in the mist of his mind
looks to the dawn's glare with a tired yet
often muttered prayer that this be the last day of his suffering....
the wholesome man already taken his place in the factory line
see's a splinter of the dawn in the poisoned air in this dark room
quickly returning to his labor lest he loose all he has gained
and wishes for better days to come....
each of us must look to the
breaking dawn
with what truth or lie our hearts yearn
what strength or weakness is in our soul
each must find a path in the breaking dawn
hand in hand with another
or strongly by our own
and see in dawns turbulent clouds
a bright future to kiss us upon the cheek