685

pixabay image credit

AWESTRUCK
For the mind of God is change itself;
Evening came and morning came first day,
And so light changes everything.

Colour, brilliance, sparkle and truth,
Chiaroscuro, balance, management,
And the order of challenge in life.

The seed, the sprig, the sapling;
The tree the bees the bud the flowers,
A dynamism of necessary coexistence.

The rain on the roof and umbrella tops;
The sun, the oceans wide and deep
And clouds above to make of us awestruck.
AWESTRUCK © gillena cox 2019

NOTE Evening came and morning came: the first day - Genesis 1:5


Blog hopping today with

Poets United Midweek Motif ~ Changes
prompted by Susan


REVISIT

4 December 2014
4 December 2017
...a change propels


ENJOY THE MUSIC

Monday WRites 222

QUADRILLE: SEASON OF ADVENT
A purple candle on the Advent wreath lit
In a spirit of hushed humility,

For i am anxious for Christmas
With its glamour and glitter
Its brightly sparkled Christmas trees,

Yet i must delay in the season of prophecy,
Waiting, again with hopeful expectation.
QUADRILLE: SEASON OF ADVENT © gillena cox 2019


You've heard about the Monday Blues ❧✿❧ well this is Monday WRites (musing on the definition here of rite, as any customary observance or practice eg the rite of afternoon tea). A Happy Monday to all
Welcome to Monday WRites #222, first Monday in the Season of Advent, my favourite season of all time. ❧✿❧

Copy this code, pin my button to your blog
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Blog hopping today with

Quadrille 93 - Spirited Poems


REVISIT
2nd December 2015
2nd December 2016



[image courtesy dVerse]
❧✿❧

683

["lover boy and girl with red heart balloons" image from google dot com]

MAYBE A POEM SWEETHEART
Once i was young, and the moon,
Round and complete, lured my sigh
Many a night in a darkening swoon
There she was, round and ever so high.

Fantasy soared, jump, touch that moon
Bright-cold or pale-gold-hot
Growing takes eons and eons, none too soon
Her texture to know; maybe, maybe not.

There was no need of space ships then
Nursery rhymes could achieve so much
Her pages opened, and that was when
The words flew it passengers as such

Once too, our love was young
The two of us holding hands, looking
We basked in our favourite song
And there was the moon, full round watching.

Some such innocence tugs at the heart
Maybe a poem to write then, sweetheart.
MAYBE A POEM SWEETHEART © gillena cox 2019


Blog hopping today with

Poets United Midweek Motif ~ Longing
Prompted by Sumana


REVISIT
27 November 2018
27 November 2016
27 November 2015


ENJOY THE MUSIC
Regina Belle - This Is Love

Monday WRites 221

Everything breathes, lives; moving or rock still. Passing years reflected in moon curves, know of existence. Of destiny, that's another issue. Some of us are more gifted than others. Who knows which mountain, will crumble, which sea will be parted down its middle affording passage to a designated few?

What is there in knowing anyway. Each day dawns with some promise of its waning to dark inky skies. Maybe in our struggles to understanding and wisdom, the gratitude for life, that is enough.

ixora blooms
at day's end stay open -
sharing beauty
© gillena cox 2019


You've heard about the Monday Blues ❧✿❧ well this is Monday WRites (musing on the definition here of rite, as any customary observance or practice eg the rite of afternoon tea). A Happy Monday to all
Welcome to Monday WRites #221, ❧✿❧

Copy this code, pin my button to your blog
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Blog hopping today with

Haibun Monday - Gratitude


AND


Mosaic Monday
55 Autumn Amble


REVISIT
25 November 2016
25 November 2015



photos and poem © gillena cox

681

[image from google]

Coolness of morning light streaming through clouds silvery, with brilliant thrill of bird whistles. Clean up crews having done their routine work will withdraw, letting the roar of large wheels and the honk in queued horns take over the sounds of morning awakening

a flash of pale blue
from shrubbery to skyward -
the blue bird's silence
© gillena cox 2019



Blog hopping with
Poets United ~ midweek motif - awakening
Prompted by Susan



REVISIT
20 November 2015

20 November 2013

20 November 2012


MUSIC
Barbara Jones - Angel Of The Morning

Monday WRites 220

[image from google]

CRACKLE QUADRILLE
Then the lightning crackled like the blaming finger of a witch gone wild on finding her wicked brew had been stolen, gulped, or siphoned off.
And trees whirling wildly to winds withering were indeed worthy of screams from television audiences both young and old.
CRACKLE QUADRILLE © gillena cox

Blog hopping today with

Take a crack at poeming

REVISIT
18 November 2016
18 November 2015

MUSIC
Katie Melua - Blame It On The Moon

679

image courtesy Poet's United


FIREFLY: A VISION, MAKING MYTHS [7]
That day was a soft blue azure,
And night a trifling more somber.

She sighed as she pulled the covers,
Up way up to cover her features.

This new solitude, undesigned intrusion,
She must come to terms with this siuation.

Now into the room serene, and dimly lit,
A lone firefly chose to wander and to flit.

Spreading his flame to absorb the room,
He thought of absolving her from gloom.

She awakened from sleep, all knowing,
She sensed his presence, fully glowing.

She pulled off the covers to stare in awe,
She was never one for old-school folklore.

"I am your guardian angel" he offered,
"Never be lonely, and never be tired."

"But always have faith
For this span on earth."

"Till we meet again
Adieu my sweet and gentle friend"

From bright to slight her space had faded,
But a seed of wonder was securely planted.

Was it in October? was it September
Hummm, I really do not remember.

FIREFLY: A VISION MAKING MYTHS [7]© gillena cox


Blog Hopping today with Poets United Midweek Motif ~ A Million Years Howl When Voices Whisper Among The Trees
Prompted by Sanaa


REVISIT
Making Myths 6
Making Myths 5
Making Myths 4