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Antonia 5d
awareness or
the lack thereof
there is a self,
regardless of
the stupid things
you wish to be
and all those masks you hide behind

a sens of self
is all there is
it’s not a gift
that you receive
it’s that,
the only thing there
is

that’s all you got
that’s all you are
enjoy and swim in it
till dawn

it’s more than life,
it’s cheating death
it simply is,

the sense of self.
If the air that we breathe
is withheld, we will perish
The Breath of Life is a gift,
we should all greatly cherish

Breathing is essential and
This is so true It signifies Life
The air flows through you

We need air to breathe
it is how we survive
If our air is cut off
we will not be alive

The Breath of Life is a
Beautiful feeling,
If you are breathing air now,
It is Truly a Blessing!!!!


B.R.
Date: 8/26/2024
Ylzm Aug 20
A wonder a day's old is old
For today's a greater wonder yet
Without asking without knowing
Given if gifted to accept

A vine grafted to ancient roots
Drinks deep beneath the rocky earth
A child tasting strange unknown foods
Knowing not father nor mother

Ever filled with songs ever new
Awakes the dawn with song unsung
From sights seen winged beyond the stars
And joy's complete when mysteries known

Accepting that made not with hands
Needs knowing the Mind not of flesh
You've been my biggest fan, my ever-glowing, shining light
Showing me the way and how to do what's right
There are those that wonder, and ask me where I get my strength
I get my bravery from you, someone who would go to any length
I am the man I am because you taught me how to be
Without your love around, I do not think I could be me
These words may seem small, and they don't say what I want well
My gratefulness for you is something words could never tell
I thought I would try to write at least a couple bars
It is the least that I could do, for the woman made of stars
Whose heart has traveled galaxies; whose soul has traversed dimensions
I know that raising me was difficult, yet you always had the best intentions
Though the evenings may turn dark, there is always light in the dawn
No matter what happens, or where I may go, I am blessed to call you Mom
You say you love me to the moon and back, and I love you to Mars
Please consider this a birthday gift, to the woman made of stars
A poem for my mom on her birthday today. It's the first one after my dad's passing in April.
Would a rose by any other name be as sweet?
Would a rose gifted by another sweep me off of my feet?
Would the fragrant scent make me so softly weak?

Never have I ever been one for flowers,
Their allure held but for a few hours,
A vibrant life for temporary display,
Before they drop all their petals, wilt away.

A perspective from closed eyes open to see,
Finding sincerity in the twelve before me,
Watching their flirtatious shadows dance
As the petals sway to the breezes romance

Studying their intricate details,
Have I never read the story each rose tells?
Sewn into the earth, cared for, tended to,
Their history of love, unfolding in bloom
Like books unfurling pages, one by one
Each petal a testament to the tenderest love

I imagine his eyes, the warmth of his heart
For a moment their stories and my own were of one part.
Gifted with the purest intentions, a hopeful beginning
From those hands seeking love, never-ending

So would a rose by any other name be as sweet?
If from the hands of the one who gifted them to me.
Loving new perspectives, new acceptance, & full of hope for my own path. It's going to be okay... in time. This world is beautiful, in so many ways, I need to remind myself to always follow those that bring in more beauty. I'm ready to find everything that makes me light. Ps. Someone is going to be so lucky. I can't wait to hear about it... one day.
Nigdaw May 16
he brought in cakes and out of
politeness I had to ask
how old he was,
just twenty two
I've got T' shirts older than you
I can't even remember the stupidity
the freedom and immortality
of days that just escaped me
tossing them aside as though
they were in endless supply

you wait until every precious
moment is a gift
sunsets mark an inevitable end
and the days are dark
when you neither laugh nor cry
Peter Balkus Mar 17
The gift you haven't asked for.
Sometimes can feel like unwanted.
Even if, it is still a gift.
Someone has made an effort to please you.

Sometimes you don't like it,
but you wouldn't sell it cheap,
let alone give it away for free.

Then every day makes you thinking more and more
about pulling the ribbons and see
what is inside.
And if it can save you.
Steve Page Dec 2023
How do you smuggle Jesus?
How can we disguise Him,
camouflage and mask Him -
how do you sneak Him in?

How do you smuggle Jesus,
give Him some acceptable spin?

How do you smuggle Jesus?
How can we conceal Him,
hide and obscure Him -
how do you slip Him past?

How do you smuggle Jesus,
keep Him from being unmasked?

How do you smuggle Jesus?
How can we impart Him,
stealthily bestow Him -
on those still on their search?

How do you smuggle Jesus,
and release Him back into His church?
Listening to Andrew Fellows, author.
Heidi Franke Dec 2023
Riding the air
In dark morning
A steady current of rain
Descends
Upon everything
The fir tree
The house roof
My dogs fur
The empty Ash tree
The fallen leaves
Brown, red, yellow, orange
The bird feeder catches the water As does the bird bath
The puddles
The street
The cement
My head

My ears hear each
Multitude of patterned drops
In apparent chaos
Reminds me of the brain
The synapses in my brain
Circuitry, each drop a connection from
Dendrite to dentride
Messages of the unknown
Of falling to earth
Of vulnerable life
Unprotected.

The unhoused, in the cool soaked air of December. Will you remain blessed?
Will you spread your joy in the patter of rain to those who bare the rain in their skin, on their dampened clothes? Adding a chill.
Will today you find some without a home
Bringing tarps, blankets, source of heat, to those who listen
To the same rain
While they shiver
And you stay in your glow with your tidy wood burning fireplace. Stay comfortable? Risk giving for giving sake. What floods of love can you share in December rather than giving to
Your precious family, the left overs, the excesses
And give to charity that make each day another day for breath in rain from the heavens. I choose the rain. I could be the one in
The open now, soaking as I pen these words.

Hoping words of love, neutrality, non-judgement and altruism be the "church" we reside in. Drop by drop.
Over a hundred different sounds of rain brought to earth by gravity, in my receiving ears, and the tiny sparkles of light reflected upon the  light from the street lamp shining upon concrete saturated by this extended morning rain.
Sunday. Sitting under my porch with coffee in hand, dog at my side. Dry from this music of rain. Thinking of the homeless. Now mustering the strength and courage to buy Starbucks growlers full of coffee for about thirty and driving around town once again finding cold people shivering. Time to order that coffee and give warm to some as best I can in my limited way. Looking for costs of pull over rain coats. My gifts to my children this year is to give what I would give them to others less fortunate. Be neutral in your thinking. Be rid of judgements of self and others. More love, less hate.
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