WEEKEND…a poem

Home gardening - young rucola - top view
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The weekend is here

And it’s going to be full

With a garden to dig

And weeds to pull

Man Watering the Plant during Daytime
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My wife’s buying flowers

To plant, who knows where

Some over here

And more over there

Butterfly Perched on Flower
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I will borrow a tiller

To till up some rows

In hopes that my plantings

Will grow and grow

Green Leafed Plant Bokeh Photography
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And as each day

Draws to a close

With a beer or some wine

In my hand, who knows

Silhouette Image of Person Praying
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I’ll reflect on this time

God gives me on earth

And rejoice in the splendor

Of His beautiful works

PROMISE…a poem

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Yesterday, I made a promise,

And today it won’t come true.

Why does it always work this way,

When it comes to you!

——————

I realize these things take time,

But my patience is at an end.

How can I fulfill the promise

When I never did begin?

——————

Tides, they don’t procrastinate.

When the ebb is spent they flow.

The proffered words that left my mouth

Had but one way to go.

——————-

Please, won’t you forgive this fool,

He didn’t mean to lie?

Caught up in the yesterday

While time keeps creeping by.

MOBILE BAY…a poem

I watched the sun’s last rays

Cast across Mobile Bay

And felt the warmth of the summertime wind

Blessed did I feel

In this place, so surreal

And for a time, I could breathe once again

The weight of the world

Lifted and unfurled

As my mind glides on the pelican’s wings

Waves gently caress

Where these bare feet rest

And inside, with the seagulls, I sing

Mobile Bay, Alabama, Shoreline, Shore

Little did I know

That long, long ago

As a young boy my roots were set

Yet my life moved on

Away and beyond

But my home – I will never forget

TRANQUIL… a poem

Foggy Lake
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Shallow are the graves of the discontent

The lonely denizens of a hapless world

Hiding in plain sight of the overachievers

Unnoticed, unsolicited

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

But, don’t have pity for these

They are unencumbered by the chains that bind

Removed from the chaos around the status quo

Free to live without judging or judgement

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

With ease they rise and move to another place

Wiping off the dust without disruption

Unburdened, unrestrained

Tranquil

P is for Poetry

To Write, Machine, Desk, Flowers
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P is for Poetry

Written from the soul

So many styles

It never gets old

Some write of heartache

Depression and fear

Others write of loss

With the shedding of tears

And yet there are others

Who write of their joy

About little children

Receiving a toy

Perhaps you write fiction

An imagination that flies

Or maybe the lifeline

Of generations gone by

Whatever you write

Write with your heart

For the muse that’s within

Is dying to start