#collaborate - Hello Poetry

God came in three - they set aside time and space for collaborative creativity God came in three and in that 'us', 'our' and 'we' metaphored an identity of mutuality God came in three advocating once and for all a celebration of plurality God came in three illustrating that all families are a godly thingamy God came in three inviting you and you and me to join them together for eternity

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Jul 16, 2021

Jul 16, 2021 at 5:01 AM UTC

stevejeff

Three

God came in three - they set aside time and space for collaborative creativity God came in three and in that 'us', 'our' and 'we' metaphored an identity of mutuality God came in three advocating once and for all a celebration of plurality God came in three illustrating that all families are a godly thingamy God came in three inviting you and you and me to join them together for eternity

16

Inspired by a recent poem by Emmanuel Phakathi titled "Who knows it feels it." Your brush touches paint the same Spread simple over varied canvas Meant to make art for eyes That ache for scenes of beauty And such beauty is abound In every nuanced color of our lives We paints do not get to choose our color Lead stepped in manure to produce white paint never got to choose its fate Nor did the dyes trapped in cochineal insect destined to be crimson Weep for all the ground-up bones Used to enhance beautiful ebony tones Or the powdered precious stones Called ultramarine, translated "beyond the sea" We paints don't get to choose our medium Like wooden tapestries of African Artists Rich and earthy, beyond beauty Or painstakingly bound hempen thread A dedication of Italian artwork Or the unknown fresco origin Which gave painters joy on the Isle of Crete To the modern U.S. canvas Made of cotton, PVC, and ingenuity We do not choose our color Red, white, black, green, yellow, blue We do not choose our canvas From developed nation to those without We do not choose our origin We do not choose our ethnicity We can only choose our actions I choose to believe That we are all beautiful paints Not meant to separate But rather to blend together In truest of beautiful form And spread vivid hues of color Across this tapestry of Earth

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Apr 17, 2020

Apr 17, 2020 at 7:51 AM UTC

MikeStefan

Complexities of Color

Inspired by a recent poem by Emmanuel Phakathi titled "Who knows it feels it." Your brush touches paint the same Spread simple over varied canvas Meant to make art for eyes That ache for scenes of beauty And such beauty is abound In every nuanced color of our lives We paints do not get to choose our color Lead stepped in manure to produce white paint never got to choose its fate Nor did the dyes trapped in cochineal insect destined to be crimson Weep for all the ground-up bones Used to enhance beautiful ebony tones Or the powdered precious stones Called ultramarine, translated "beyond the sea" We paints don't get to choose our medium Like wooden tapestries of African Artists Rich and earthy, beyond beauty Or painstakingly bound hempen thread A dedication of Italian artwork Or the unknown fresco origin Which gave painters joy on the Isle of Crete To the modern U.S. canvas Made of cotton, PVC, and ingenuity We do not choose our color Red, white, black, green, yellow, blue We do not choose our canvas From developed nation to those without We do not choose our origin We do not choose our ethnicity We can only choose our actions I choose to believe That we are all beautiful paints Not meant to separate But rather to blend together In truest of beautiful form And spread vivid hues of color Across this tapestry of Earth

39

Baptized in the framework, emboldened dregs, stolen legs, having the will enabled, will stoke flares. Hope there's enough left, to capitalize and trademark, Mark. These machination metaphorics may get way dark. Witness the churn, turn barrel, pour fuel. Envision thrift in the burn. Unequivocal innocents in the thick of it learn, gun metal, flower petal. Power is sick of our tone. They play their tricks on our young, to build a system above. We killed the sadness fit to galvanize a truthful spirit, loose beneath the masses. lifted powder keg, rug and broom, others soon to be suiting fashion Buried in a priory cast. Wire he tapped, isn't the first, was a fiery blast. I heard the ground stir, out turned choirs of wrath. Give baron bread, give miner shaft, and all the pigs just laughed. All the swine surrounded, founded "Freedom". Heavy quotes aligned to, "leave em lying". We declined to deify, redefine our civil vision . Twisted lips and sirens, rent, systems turn, climate, worth, time to learn to hear and listen, kids, earth, diet. 'On the list I promise'. Truth can't hurt if you stay quiet. Truth in earnest moves the strongest. Our seeds to earth are truth in kindness. Grow.

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Aug 17, 2019

Aug 17, 2019 at 4:34 PM UTC

AaronE

Resist, Grow

Baptized in the framework, emboldened dregs, stolen legs, having the will enabled, will stoke flares. Hope there's enough left, to capitalize and trademark, Mark. These machination metaphorics may get way dark. Witness the churn, turn barrel, pour fuel. Envision thrift in the burn. Unequivocal innocents in the thick of it learn, gun metal, flower petal. Power is sick of our tone. They play their tricks on our young, to build a system above. We killed the sadness fit to galvanize a truthful spirit, loose beneath the masses. lifted powder keg, rug and broom, others soon to be suiting fashion Buried in a priory cast. Wire he tapped, isn't the first, was a fiery blast. I heard the ground stir, out turned choirs of wrath. Give baron bread, give miner shaft, and all the pigs just laughed. All the swine surrounded, founded "Freedom". Heavy quotes aligned to, "leave em lying". We declined to deify, redefine our civil vision . Twisted lips and sirens, rent, systems turn, climate, worth, time to learn to hear and listen, kids, earth, diet. 'On the list I promise'. Truth can't hurt if you stay quiet. Truth in earnest moves the strongest. Our seeds to earth are truth in kindness. Grow.

44

Mike Hauser had a brilliant idea to “Pass the pen” and see where it got us. This, Friends, is the result. **I write of the stars I write of the moon I write of the things That I love to do I write of the lies While telling the truth And when I am through I pass the pen to you** *I read the things that went before and add my thoughts for you to write more of things we love and things we hate so here's the pen, now contemplate!* *I wait like a kid the anticipation breaks my quiet like a train in station with thoughts pouring out like the traveling weary so here's the pen "now what's my hurry?"* **While looking at this And studying that As our poetic peruse Comes up to bat With much more in store From the writer's’ knack I jot down my last line Then pass the pen back** *and now it get's fun with my lines and yours at least it keeps me from doing my chores! fingers be nimble brain be quick I finished this part now here's the Bic.* **With words tattered and torn I have you here to mend Don’t know where I’m going Brain lights on dim With little or no warning Here it comes again All on a whim I hand you the pen** *so who will care if we make no sense “these poets here must have the bends!” but all the same we’ve had our yen it was a good run let's retire the pen*

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Oct 12, 2017

Oct 12, 2017 at 2:29 PM UTC

amy-ha

Pen, please!

Mike Hauser had a brilliant idea to “Pass the pen” and see where it got us. This, Friends, is the result. **I write of the stars I write of the moon I write of the things That I love to do I write of the lies While telling the truth And when I am through I pass the pen to you** *I read the things that went before and add my thoughts for you to write more of things we love and things we hate so here's the pen, now contemplate!* *I wait like a kid the anticipation breaks my quiet like a train in station with thoughts pouring out like the traveling weary so here's the pen "now what's my hurry?"* **While looking at this And studying that As our poetic peruse Comes up to bat With much more in store From the writer's’ knack I jot down my last line Then pass the pen back** *and now it get's fun with my lines and yours at least it keeps me from doing my chores! fingers be nimble brain be quick I finished this part now here's the Bic.* **With words tattered and torn I have you here to mend Don’t know where I’m going Brain lights on dim With little or no warning Here it comes again All on a whim I hand you the pen** *so who will care if we make no sense “these poets here must have the bends!” but all the same we’ve had our yen it was a good run let's retire the pen*

58

Let's collaborate and coordinate, cooperate and disseminate. Let's not disassociate or dare to hesitate, rather let's keep going til we reach a state of counterweight that celebrates the gifts our Father freely donates for us to re-dedicate and elevate His name til we resonate with the angels at heavens gates. Amen.

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Sep 5, 2017

Sep 5, 2017 at 4:52 PM UTC

stevejeff

Collaborate

Let's collaborate and coordinate, cooperate and disseminate. Let's not disassociate or dare to hesitate, rather let's keep going til we reach a state of counterweight that celebrates the gifts our Father freely donates for us to re-dedicate and elevate His name til we resonate with the angels at heavens gates. Amen.

3

An innocent child taught to share. Taught to know that the relationship; the journey to share knowledge, love, ideas and our difference is key. An educated adult never forgets the child's lesson. But fear drives self-protection, materialism and pride. To share what divides us is to plant the seeds of learning. Comradeship grows from understanding, and acknowledgement of those differences. Build a fence. Build a wall. Create the divide and create the perfect, repugnant bigot's nursery. Destroy the very values one thinks will be protected. Fail to share as only a child learns and build humanity's failure.

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Jul 4, 2017

Jul 4, 2017 at 1:50 PM UTC

DHolden

Share

An innocent child taught to share. Taught to know that the relationship; the journey to share knowledge, love, ideas and our difference is key. An educated adult never forgets the child's lesson. But fear drives self-protection, materialism and pride. To share what divides us is to plant the seeds of learning. Comradeship grows from understanding, and acknowledgement of those differences. Build a fence. Build a wall. Create the divide and create the perfect, repugnant bigot's nursery. Destroy the very values one thinks will be protected. Fail to share as only a child learns and build humanity's failure.

14

*Your words pulverized me again and again I saw each little arrow that lead me in circles back to your doorstep, wanting to reach out, touch you but was afraid you weren't there,* *Did you understand the love we shared Deeper than the depth of the Pacific, but the schism of the abyss deepened, like a cracking Mariana, imploding unto itself, as I play each scene through my mind what did I do to make you turn away I wonder… it was hard to say good bye…,* *My angel, it has been long, since I saw you yet whatever little moments that we spent were blessed pearls in shining oysters, worn around our hearts I aver it still hurts to know you are still there somewhere How I miss… the endless, senseless talks wishing for more of those precious moments, but life, does it value treasured seconds? I wonder… then why is it that I miss the most…us? I hope to awaken when the sun comes up and rubbing my eye, I see the dream crash see you standing before me as if you had never left my side.* **The parallel worlds. My princess, just peep out of the castle window Do you see that glorious steed? A knight atop, in his shining armour Perhaps not… Since with changed time’s dimensions I stand on the tor while your castle is in the vale, Each looking at the other as a mist Yet still there, where we were… Nothing has changed, yet there is no constant The eye of the storm has changed the breeze The sailboats changing tack, yet on the same course All a matter of perception… Look out of your dream and you shall find Us, standing on the same shore that we last left, The travels and travails seem to keep us adrift Bobbing up and down, times tides Synchronous, dancing to the beat of the waves…** Dee Debbie Brooks.

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Oct 24, 2014

Oct 24, 2014 at 12:09 AM UTC

deepakqt

Missing the Most

*Your words pulverized me again and again I saw each little arrow that lead me in circles back to your doorstep, wanting to reach out, touch you but was afraid you weren't there,* *Did you understand the love we shared Deeper than the depth of the Pacific, but the schism of the abyss deepened, like a cracking Mariana, imploding unto itself, as I play each scene through my mind what did I do to make you turn away I wonder… it was hard to say good bye…,* *My angel, it has been long, since I saw you yet whatever little moments that we spent were blessed pearls in shining oysters, worn around our hearts I aver it still hurts to know you are still there somewhere How I miss… the endless, senseless talks wishing for more of those precious moments, but life, does it value treasured seconds? I wonder… then why is it that I miss the most…us? I hope to awaken when the sun comes up and rubbing my eye, I see the dream crash see you standing before me as if you had never left my side.* **The parallel worlds. My princess, just peep out of the castle window Do you see that glorious steed? A knight atop, in his shining armour Perhaps not… Since with changed time’s dimensions I stand on the tor while your castle is in the vale, Each looking at the other as a mist Yet still there, where we were… Nothing has changed, yet there is no constant The eye of the storm has changed the breeze The sailboats changing tack, yet on the same course All a matter of perception… Look out of your dream and you shall find Us, standing on the same shore that we last left, The travels and travails seem to keep us adrift Bobbing up and down, times tides Synchronous, dancing to the beat of the waves…** Dee Debbie Brooks.

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