1046

sunset: a 2021 photo by gillena cox

MUNIFICENCE

 For nougth but day, the light doth shine;

 Stars move in easy pace, to spaces bound;

 Look not toward heaven, with sad divine;

 Within the mind, there dwells, honed report; 

Thy heart, cherubic as the light doth shine;

 In this, the transience of mortal blight 

Why searcheth far away, to places not of thine; 

Here now he dwells , while amongst as afar;

 A wasteful effort, an insult, the searching

 tine; 

The wild daisy thrives in heat and wind,

Generous charity, for the light doth shine.

Munificence: a Fold © gillena cox 2015

 [first posted HERE ]

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20150511
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Open Link Night #338: Summer is Coming!;

1045

I always thought clouds were light like cotton candy although not as sweet.

The cumulus look like stolen wool pilfered from some sheep.

If you must plough a field of dasies in time for next spring blossoming,

You should check with a farmer's almanac so as not to be wasting time assuming.

Ah; when the broken heart of aesthetics

Choose to leave one saddened, step to it
© gillena cox 2023

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Poetics: Slipping into Surrealism with Erik Johansson;

images from Erik Johansson's website 

REVISIT
20180509

20190509

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1044

[Centennial Tree," by Andres Montie from google]

There she stood, such a weird woman; on this day without a date, on a back street, dusky. Who would have thought she was a poet extraordinary. Hers was the task of spinning stories, like those silent industrious spiders. Making magical, diaphanous threads of homespun words.

In every leaf hidden a line; verbs doing something; changing from green to yellow and such like. Every branch, a rib of a larger skeleton holding meanings, only the careful reader could translate. Such a weird woman mumbling; arms outstreatched pointing at a tree.

© gillena cox 2023

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20170508 

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This is Monday WRites 394

Wishing all a Happy Month of May.

You've heard about the Monday Blues 

well this is Monday WRites  (musing on the definition here of rite, as any customary observance for eg the rite of afternoon tea). 

❧✿❧

1043

morning sky photo by gillena cox

TO SCULP MORNING

You left me taking away

Kisses sweet and long lasting

Thrust of your love gone astray

Banished to hours of longing

Gold clouds of sunset shape

An evening fit for a lover's plate

I supp on tears of ducting tape

Unable to fix this sad fate

A beautiful moon once acclaimed

Is lost to a hazy night's sky

Tonight again would've exclaimed

Were not his treacle words a lie

Ah, but dreams are locked out

For blissful sleep is more healing

Than wasteful time without a doubt

Doors against betrayal unyielding

Tomorrow's first bird song kiskadee

I can sing my name to

With poetic words I shall shape thee

Morning; joyful i will carve too

© gillena cox [written in 2022; edited for today's dVerse challenge, first posting today]

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1042

NEST BUILDERS

Whistling together on the branch of a tree

Then sunset came around

Their song of you and i and we

Was hushed in tones of gold surround

Worn beaks that carried twigs and straw

Were want to silence in feathered breast

Oh sunset to us two, oh the awe

As if just to watch with no thought of rest

Tomorrow we continue in patterning sticks 

Tis hard works carrying to and fro

So that we can welcome  cute little chicks

We deceided we'd give it a go

The twigs crisscrossed like basket weave

We chirp well done until the little ones leave 

© gillena cox 2023

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1041

Out there in land of sleep,

Fantasy awaits some we keep;

Forgetting night's dream

I awake, with a blank mind,

For a day that's kind;

With  vast  world  before me, 

It's happening can't you see,

There above us, oh so high,

Clouds mapping sky.

© gillena cox 2023

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Quadrille #175-Mapping Out Our Poems  

REVISIT
20170501 

2016 Road Trip

2017 mapping sunlight

This is Monday WRites 393

You've heard about the Monday Blues 

well this is Monday WRites  (musing on the definition here of rite, as any customary observance for eg the rite of afternoon tea). 

❧✿❧

1040

[gillena cox photos]

 Becoming

In the perfect stance of dawn,

I lay, listening to the silence

Of day, gathering her thoughts,

Planning her statements,

For a span, destined already as good.

She is writing her love song,

To woo world to awakening,

A world she loves so deeply,

With all her heart and might.

Words come easy, for such

A lover she, whose ultimatum,

The sacrifice of mercy for life,

Preens under a waning moon.

Unfailing, though chameleon,

She stays her course.

For that is her nature, abiding,

And sure as sunrise in its glory.

 © gillena cox 2019

[first posted here]

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OPEN LINK NIGHT #337"