Moments Of Blooming

image from google dot com

there is an old house, it leans somewhat
what tales abound from this quaint hut
you can hear voices from centuries old but
only if you just listen

in the cool night air the scent of aromatic trees
fill spaces between shadow and filtering breeze
a night when a song blossoms with such ease
before dewdrops glisten
--gillena cox




written for the challenge at Imaginary Garden With Real Toads - Bits Of Inspiration ~ Queen Of The Night... the challenge to write about those precious moments of blooming. It could be a flower, an experience, a person...(occuring in the night hours).

Hands

good shepherd image from google dot com

whose hands are these? withered by years of painstaking measuring
these are the hands, like the hands adding minutes, adding seconds
those digits of time seared to finite moments of universal chiming
these are the hands of messy clay creating light of sea beacons

whose hands are these? withered by years of painstaking measuring
they are hands, invisible, resting on laurels of dancing marionettes
those digits of time seared to finite moments of universal chiming
these are the hands of nudging,tweerking, manipulating and disconnect
--gillena cox




written in response to the prompt at Poetry Jam "hands"




read also 'Dandelion'
In a chiaroscuro of shapes your hand,
Pledging a bouquet so winsome and,
Bursting with this gift desire of miles,
Of weightless flights to carve smiles,
On the moon or hearts aflame with... read the rest here