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The sky is a cloudless crystal blue
with a breeze to chap your lips
I’m grateful for it, it’s heaven-sent
the dawn was a celestially stamped, angry red
sailors take warning

It’s going to get feisty cold,
I’m told
about the time we go back to school.
A polar-bear vortex with all its features
will spread its icy paws

What jumps out at me first
is how it could be worse.
if unapologetic nature
pounced sans disclaimers
with a cold worth semi-Shakespearean verse

What follows, star-crossed
is a week storm-tossed
a winter holocaust
with heaven-kissed frost
that only madness would call a judgement


We’re steered from harm
by precision alarms
stay warm
sweet friends
wrap up, stay in
.
.
Songs for this:
Come In from the Cold by Marc Broussard
World's A Changing by The Bingtones
BLT Merriam Webster word of the day challenge 12/27/24:
Feisty = a lively aggressiveness
The moonlit sky hovers
a dark and empty street
A night submerged with wonder
and stillness

In a blissful voice, the night sang
about a faraway land,
where the pastures danced
and summer was everlasting

Lustrous knights roam the land
and the goblins lurks in the shadow
Like the darkness I lay on
As my bones relish in the calm
of this wonderful night
Her lips are like
wet orchids, dressed in
the spring rain,
waiting to be
kissed and
caressed.
Here is a link to my you tube channel where I read my poetry.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ucOOifTukWQ
If i would meet a Genie
On a parched and dusty road,
Found down upon his luck
With wishes to be sold.
Well,
Just one,
If truth be told.
Rattling around the lamp
Unkempt, rusted, and old.

I would trade all my tomorrows
To take away your pain and sorrow.

So I turn out all my pockets,
Gifts of silver, lint and gold.
Promises of future earnings
Whatever I shall own.
Offers of the occult.
Blood, shadow and bone.
The sum of all my dreams,
The deed to my rugged soul.
We were poets,
Once,
Hearts etched upon our sleeve
The lords of our intent,
Words bloomed for all to see.
Each branch of thought considered,
Chiseled,
Whittled to express.
Carving the forest in our likeness
We paved the landscape with our breath.
Woods would sway in idle days
Sunkissed glades lay bathed in gold.
Nights waylaid by dancing maids
Cheap ale and tales of old.
Fires burn, flames unfold.
Though
Embers remember
Tender clutch of the cold.
We tend to forget the bargained,
The sold.
Up rivers and creeks,
Paddles, disowned by the meek,
Cast away to distant shores.  
Glades decay,
Fade to grey.

We become poets once more.
-


i think of summer solstice as
a reminder for God to let the
earth back down

it's not supposed to
stay up there forever—

that's what kids are for...




s jones
Jun 2024



.
Your lips whisper poems in my ears,
and warm the blood that flows within my heart.

My creative juices begin to boil at your touch.
But your skilled hands hold me to a simmer.

I long to write the majesty that is you,
the masterpiece you've lain upon my soul.

Your love, My love,

has made me a poet.

And you are the poetry that makes me whole.
Just a simple little thing that popped into my head ten minutes ago.
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