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I wake in the morning

And

I just don't know.

Where does life go?

I just don't know.
With morning’s dawn and dew,
the blades of wet grass beckon
unto me, to cleanse… soiled
soles; as I stride across the
silence of greenery, wondrous
sparkling of unknown diamonds
mesmerize my gaze; the wealth
of my existence is enhanced,
as I envision Christ, before
His disciples, bent over their
feet… ready to humbly serve.
Dedicated to David Thane Cornell

Inspired by:
John 13:1-17 and

David’s poem “SECOND CHANCE”

SECOND CHANCE
When God came calling face to face
In a fatal circumstance,
Breast to breast in His embrace,
He promised me a second chance
To let me ring the morning in
And dine on dawn and dew,
My running feet to press and bless
The grass I'm passing through,
The potent wine of joy to flood
Like a bubbling spring,
Warm hosannahs in my blood
That make me want to sing.

-- from The Science Of Waiting,
Poems by David Thane Cornell.

Learn more about me and my poetry at: amazon (dot) com

By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2017, All rights reserved.
Brianna Duffin Oct 2017
Groggy and hungover
Pounding in her head
Aggravated by the gull screeching
Lulu….. Lulu
They call her girlhood name

Same each morning
Get used to it all over again
Grappling with her self-pity and disgust
Dead weight
She can’t not hold herself back

She’s seen so much worse, in the day
Bellies torn open, guts strewn
Limbs twisted like contortionists
Heartbreakingly graceful
Rotting, swollen faces she dreams of

A man, mummified
Head held up
******* from a ****** straw
Invisible man
What did that soul see when the bandages came off


Welcome to the final decline
Still got her mind, probably
Not sure what she wants to lose first
The inevitable slide
Unfit for the task

It’s her own fault
They were her choices
But where could she have gone right
What had she to do- what she had to do
That’s all over, done, and gone now

Bloodbaths and blow-ups
She’d forgotten safety
Her ground still shakes
Run for cover
Still, everyday, everytime

Why her not them
Why them not her
How dumb is God
“Survivors guilt”
But the doctors know nothing

Solitude made for her
Broken way too much
Why can’t they let her be
Isolation… fight that war
Wrong choice then and no choice now

Desolate in disrepair
She’s in ruins more than it
The house leans in around her
They’re a good fit
It works on its own

Devil or angel
She has it back
The original vice
Good thing she’s all alone

She doesn’t know
Doesn’t want to remember
Distance and isolate
Intimacy out of the question

She’s useless anyway
What good is left
Where has hope gone?
Bloodbaths take lovebeds

She struggled
She fought
Stalemates rule
Why must she live

Good and right
Evils be gone
War is blinding
Wipe away schoolgirls

Why have hope
Why bother with love
Nothing gold can stay
Why fight a victorless war
This is about a woman struggling to recover from her experiences in WWII. She describes her morning routine in the present while flashing back to the past.
Nadja Sep 2017
Green leaves, blinding light. A heavy mist to keep things right
Is this my mind?
Samantha Sep 2017
What would you do if we disappeared together,
into a bed.
Where no one would miss us.
Where your sweet kisses could
meet my mornings.
Where my lazy days could
meet your fingers.
And we could fall into love over and over again.
Runi Sep 2017
The cockroaches at last creep under the door.
Or maybe they have been here all along, and we have finally crept
into the world.
Neutral Ground Coffeehouse
Gabriel burnS Sep 2017
what, already
that aroma;
not a single spoon
of sugar:
the better
the awakening;
my coffee grinning,
shaking me

there's no way
to backtrack;
I'm sipping from b-cups,
kicking into gear...

flash forward;
(flesh in the background)
absentmindedly
chasing destination
instead of destiny,
always in a hurry

coffee drops
now drying up
disheveled,
the only ones
still keeping
memory of lips
retreating
like the waves
caressing shores
goodbye

long gone is
the reflection
undulating eyes

thoughts are perched
on mornings:
the old ones,
the upcoming...
V
Cecil Miller Aug 2017
The memory of this moment,
As I look upon your face,
As you look up to me,
Your head resting on the squabs;
The sun shine between the blinds,
And birds sing morning's song,
Will stay with me until
My heart no longer throbs.

I know you are the one,
My only everything.
All I could ever want to hold
Is here, in my embrace.
I feel the tide is turning
In favor of morning's song,
As I gaze into your eyes,
And passion is in it's place.

There is no unworthy burdon
You bring to my door.
No echoes of regret.
I need for nothing more.

The errand of my heart
Is to give into your light,
To give you all I am.
You are my paradise.
I wanted to write a song of love without actually using the word love, because "love is a word that some entertain..."
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