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Through the darkest night,
In the midst of ash
Ahead of its time –
Where the blackest black
Of filth and fire
Consume, devour – repeat…

A Light shines.

And while fools
Dance with death
To the tune of
An evil they call “good” –
Grinding their teeth
To curse and boast…

A Voice sings.

And as the earth groans –
Aching under the weight of
The birth of many children
Called “Destruction,”
Who've grown to eat and ****
Their own…

A King reigns.

.
Louis Verata Apr 22
I'm next to a bus stop while someone
Throws away leftover peanuts.

I'm in a classroom the clock goes tick tock
With balled up paper and of course
Missed throws that went past my rim.

It's past dusk in downtown
To those who aren't hired
I keep warm with my brimming fire.

Somehow be it by chance or Providence or fate
A diamond found its way to me
No one notices it because of what I am, a trash can.
Do not hesitate
No flower can delay the spring
Bloom in providence
@LadyRavenhill 2019
Haiku #95
javert Mar 8
as the birds fly south for winter
the excavators come home to roost.
they bow their heads to the ground,
wishing for wings to tuck their necks under.
everyone guards piles of salt and twisted metal
brushed cold and golden by the sun.
a boat lifts its arms to the sky,
all rattling chains and gentle, grasping claws.
gentlemen, best prices for scrap here:
all metals, all amounts.
the highway crawls home.
soli Jan 10
i am no mad
that you're gone

but i was once a settler
in you, i built a providence

so do not blame me
that i am now a nomad.
Daniel H Shulman Oct 2018
Those green pastures that go on forever,
Seemingly endless space for life to grow,
Expansive home for life howsoever,
Every variety that God could know.

To lie in company of blades of grass,
Cool and light like the clouds above my head,
Sun from horizon to horizon pass,
Asleep in this green pasture’s sacred bed.

No sense of time as now my senses dull,
I barely notice a faint and distant clap,
I dream a dream that all the clouds are full,
As stinging raindrops wake me from my nap.

The sun has gone but lightning lights the sky,
But even soaked in mud I feel at peace,
With body wet but soul that’s safe and dry,
One cannot live in fear of God’s caprice.

This green pasture that goes on without end,
Where Heaven plays and life has no defense,
I’ll live in faith and to God’s will I’ll bend,
At peace exposed to Heaven’s providence.
Blogging at www.insightshurt.com
Buy “Insights Hurt: Bringing Healing Thoughts To Life” at store.bookbaby.com/book/insights-hurt
Tasked today with thorning
thistled favor over reigns,
we drained the shot that scored
the weak on board
and shattered crystal pain.
Who drops us off white rockets
pulled from earth like swede from stone
to jet to planes above?
The fuel we love, abundant every turn:
advice in our good ands. Disseminating
buts like rice, exceptions
unto every goal,
obscuring each clear picture
in the way. Re-light
and curse the days

you fight it, pining, elbows up,
some cheap romance whose pages
wear you thin. You render
heartache on the blow -
skid-crushing, woeful throes
of counterpoint dispatched to swallow
lightness from the shore.
Wise up

and ask for more.
Be stronger - shed your brightness
on the bay. Delay those saturated
hoodwinks. Gamble on discreetless
balconies where broke your fall
from order. Signal wholeness
of your cause, re-bolster lack of laws
with blinding arrows to your neck -
revise, rehone the wherewithal
to do what’s due: respect.
Ormond Aug 2018
(Sonnet)

Good deer are gracing the trees,
Take communion in handed leaf,
Touch the soils with loving hoof,
In the tabernacles of the wood.

The owl cries for all souls eternal,
Deep in the shrouds of the vernal
That drape the newly born dying,
Beneath the solemn owls' crying.

And songbird has a psalm unread,
A parable in the twining branches,
Gifts of song foist lanyards of crop
Dear in old forest, this offered sup.

As blood seeping deep in the wood,
Sky washes away those who stood.
.
Ormond Jul 2018
(Sonnet)

Above, this morning, on another plain
Over bogland and tundra rising snows drift
Darting birds white, unlike you, they strain
Fleeing on wing to save some earthen kin.
Blood runs as they race, your shadows cast,
Their hearts beating to some distant dawn.
Under the pale sun, white burns on their backs,
Daylight sings, their ears are horned, little faun
White as snow, the prince of the sky is blessed
On high by drops of rain, and dusted freeze,
Then blood and breast, sacrament and eucharist,
Their tale ends in glory, risen as a breeze.
.
Note:
Irregular variations on the sonnet form have included the 12-line sonnet sometimes used by Elizabethan poets, G. M. Hopkin's curtal sonnets of 10-1/2 lines, and the 16-line sonnets of George Meredith's sequence Modern Love (1862).
.
Ormond Feb 2018
( Sonnet )

Good deer are gracing the trees,
Take communion in handed leaf,
Touch the soils with loving hoof,
In the tabernacles of the wood.

The owl cries for all souls eternal,
Deep in the shrouds of the vernal
That drape the newly born dying,
Beneath the solemn owls' crying.

And songbird has a psalm unread,
A parable in the twining branches,
Gifts of song foist lanyards of crop
Dear in old forest, this offered sup.

As blood seeping deep in the wood,
Sky washes away those who stood.
.
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