65

The Assembly of the Gods, after the frescoes in the Loggia of the Farnesina in Rome - by (after) Raphael (Raffaello Sanzio of Urbino); image from google dot com



PHEW!
Poems poured in,
How they danced,those words,
Erotic sambas to boot,
Why? for a trophy of worth

Port of call,
Here we are, here we are,
Excited to have gone the mile,
Winners then, are we all.
© gillena cox



Written for the prompt
Poems In April Final Day
CHALLENGE: (from Isadora Gruye) A BANG...A WHIMPER....A SYLLABANT HISS as we find ourselves at the end of yet another National Poetry Month.

64

image from google dot com - Bird of Paradise flower



BUS TOUR
The bus is cool the day is hot
The AC is turned up just right
Voice of the guide drones on
When we turn our head to the left
Next we turn our heads to the right

There are no rails now no trains to ride
Buses now do us the cross country- drive
Voice of the guide drones on
There is history to this side
Industry stands side by side

The sea we can see
For an island are we
Voice of the guide drones on
Waves return in foamy white kept
Bird of Paradise flowers wind swept
© gillena cox


╲\╭┓╱
╭✿ ╯'BUS TOUR' is my new poem a response to today's prompt
┗╯\╲



you can also revisit where this haiga SWOONED is first published at Lunch Break 2013




Blog hopping today at
Poems In April DAY TWENTY NINE Frog-Cups in New York City
CHALLENGE:from Magaly Guerrero, she noticed a tiny plot of frog-cups or Fritillaria meleagris in bloom. so, it’s perfectly clear; we have to write a new poem that will include a flower named after an animal or a bird named after a flower.

63

image courtesy The imaginary garden with real toads



HAITI'S PAIN © gillena cox
an oldie written in 2007; click the hyperlink to hear and to read the poem







Blog hopping today at
Poems In April DAY TWENTY EIGHT open mic

Monday WRites 9

image courtesy The imaginary garden with real toads

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).
Welcome to Monday WRites #9; whats your mood today ❧✿❧ my poem today is a recipe poem ❧✿❧ I invite you to link in with one of your WRites

RECIPE FOR POESY
Gather ideas as fresh as dewdrops
Distil your muse harness your thoughts
Gather herbs of rosemary and thyme
This verse meanders within a rhyme
So far so good yet this work’s not done
Pounding and kneading is then to come
Meaning into metaphor also wit and pun
Let it rise from sunset till next the sun
Grab your bowl now as dawn birds twitter
Toss this dough while pink clouds enter
Its been a dash of this and a bit of that
Free verse poems are where its at
Bake till golden brown as needs a good crust
Repast of a hearty flavour needs room to adjust
© gillena cox

GRAB MY BUTTON
<br /> <a href="http://myblog-verses.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0C9WPzL5kFEY1gEitLn4bC5inZjfq2beowWitvrD3zLruIRMxxj1RyrHw6Xcd6SlmEASrTd6rLFn4mfF8D8XC5Mz4ASE8iblAAmc3uaKNuHtYgvzIWajyH64D6kzlwugaU8wP610yKLRq/s320/button2Monday+WRites.jpg" alt="verses" /></a><br />


Written for the prompt today from Björn Rudberg at
Poems In April DAY TWENTY SEVEN - It is not just about food
CHALLENGE: to write a poem in the form of a recipe. It can either be something we can actually using for our favorite dinners, but why not a recipe for something more abstract such as love, spring or death.

61

this haiga first published at Lunch Break


PINK - a quatrain
Pink daubs the poui blossom
Illustrating seasons of Easter
Narrating tales of happy aplomb
Kites dip and rise higher, higher.
© gillena cox





Written for
Poems In April DAY TWENTY FIVE Turning Pink

CHALLENGE: Our prompt today is to write a new poem or prose poem using the word pink in the title or verses. Write in free verse or form, the choice is yours. Here's wishing you all a good Saturday & happy weekend ~ Grace (aka Heaven) .

60

image from google dot com



"THE LITTLE SEED AND HIS BROTHER"

A little seed shifted, in his soil. "Lets ask Wind to save us" "How ?" said his brother, "How will wind save us ?" "And what shall we tell Wind?" "Oh" said the seed, "We can say to her - Wind, look, here we are at the edge of the path, surely, should we stay, the birds will come and eat us up; then we would become birdseeds." But what else can we be?" asked his brother. "Well, lets ask Wind and then we can find out. So the two seed brothers waited on Wind and they heard her as she drifted by the next mornng.

"Oh Wind, Wind they cried out can you save us?" and Wind smiled as she ruffled and furled her wide beautiful skirt and swept them away.

And so now, it was sunset and here they were. Then the little seed shifted again in his soil and said to his brother. "Lets ask Wind to save us" "How ?" said his brother, "How will wind save us ?" "And what shall we tell Wind?" "Oh" said the seed, "We can say to her - Wind, look, here we are between patches of rock, but we are such tiny weak sprigs; when Sun passes by tomorrow, we will surely be good and well scorched; then we would become toasted seeds" But what else can we be?" asked his brother. "Well, lets ask Wind and then we can find out. So the two seed brothers waited on Wind and they heard her as she drifted by that night.

"Oh Wind, Wind they cried out can you save us?" and Wind smiled as she ruffled and furled her wide demure cobalt skirt and swept them away.

And so now, it was morning and here they were. So the little seed shifted then again in his soil and said to his brother. "Lets ask Wind to save us" "How ?" said his brother, "How will wind save us ?" "And what shall we tell Wind?" "Oh" said the seed, "We can say to her - Wind, look, here in this thorny place, there's thistle all around us; if we try to grow up we will be stifled; then we would become choked seeds" But what else can we be?" asked his brother. "Well, lets ask Wind and then we can find out. So the two seed brothers waited on Wind and they heard her as she drifted by the next mornng.

"Oh Wind, Wind they cried out can you save us?" and Wind smiled as she ruffled and furled her wide beautiful skirt and swept them away.

And so now, another sunset came, and here they were. Then the little seed shifted again in his soil and said to his brother. "See now brother, this soil is so fertile and nourishing surely you can feel the difference. "Oh yes answered his brother, i know i can grow and mature into a healthy tree here, but what can we be?" Well now said the little seed you can be Tamarind, and i Guava." Then his brother chimed in, "you can be Mango and i Soursop" Then the little seed retorted "i know, you can be West Indian Cherry and i Carambola" and so they went on and on, on and on, on and on, happily, way into the night .

And later that night Wind smiled as she ruffled and furled her wide demure cobalt skirt and saw them fast asleep.
© gillena cox


After reading "The Little Seed And His Brother" you may want to read [Matt 13:4-9]

wrote this in 2012 and first published it at Wordchimes dot com








Written for
Poems In April DAY TWENTY FOUR Go Grimm

CHALLENGE: Four Wishes: Integrity, Compassion, Courage and Joy.

Now, go frolic in your word forest, beware of trolls, magic moss and poisonous mushrooms. Please follow the popcorn trail-I have left for you. If one of the recent Disney films inspires you or the enchanted television shows-by all means go there~ .

59

image from google dot com



OOMPALAPILLAR
How many legs has an oompalapillar,
More, much more than a caterpillar;
The first one’s to admire,
The second one follows to require,
An answer, what is? an oompalapillar.
© gillena cox ( for my grand-daughter Zuri )


oompalapillar - a word i created just for this poem








Written for
Poems In April DAY TWENTY THREE Last legs

CHALLENGE: How about a poem about legs? Yours or anyone else’s. Including any other creature.

58

image from google dot come




LOVE...
....
..........AWRY


I love you you are my love
Rolls easily off my tongue
Suffice to say a starry night
Twinkles surely just for us right
If we are together the world
Is in magnificence a right fold
The universe is a peaceful place
How then this restlessness of my soul
Perchance to dream only of old
For light passes in fragile handfuls
And measures all for nought-fuls
Now there is only emptiness emptiness
Emptiness the source of sweet succor
And bitter is the taste of that sauce
© gillena cox



i tried to write a sonnet folks

Blog hopping today at
Poems In April DAY TWENTY TWO The perfect love poem

57

image from google dot com




BEAUTIFUL PLANET BLUE
When the clouds dim, listening to the sound of the sea
And the music they hear from the bones of pirate’s plunder
Lure them to sweet sad teardrops, rolling down the mountain
A slide of mourning left to wanton despair soaks the apex
Which only sky sees
These sweet sad teardrops, loll down the sides returning
To the source of grief where sunken treasure sparkle
In mermaid’s eyes, yet Neptune will have none of earthly trash
The wealth of the ocean realm suffices abundantly his domain
He need ask for nothing more
Yet the blood of warriors seep way way beneath to chariots sunken
And missiles caught, in the trap of lascivious greed and mortification
Wend their wary way, to rest at pillows of seabed fathoms deep
Though the wealth of the realm enriched in its own prosperity
Ask for nothing more
Nothing more, than the care and the peace, of a planet blue, where
One moon outshines the darkness that night wears as its cloak
Wrapped tightly to fit the behoves of sultry tempests beneath, below
The angry sea gulps it all: hate, anger, greed, spewed forth
From the beautiful beautiful planet blue
© gillena cox


Blog hopping today at
Poems In April DAY TWENTY ONE no prompt given

Monday WRites 8

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).
Welcome to Monday WRites #8; whats your mood today ❧✿❧ my poem today is an quote acrostic ❧✿❧ I invite you to link in with one of your WRites

IXORA
right outside my front door, they bloom;
this simple joy of yellow, like tiny umbrellas,
bunched together, to shelter fairies from
rainstorms of the tiniest hearts; and alas,
and this is true, the never ever sleep;

they yield to the wind, letting go of sisters,
causing any sweeper, to sweep and sweep;
you'll never have guessed the named, ixoras,
claim of God's eyes, ever opened;
until that time when the wind says felled
© gillena cox




Ixoras come in different colours: white, pink, red orange and i feel certain other colours i've not yet seen.


This is the day that the Lord has made;
let us rejoice and be glad in it.
--Psalm 118:24 [English Standard Version (ESV)]

I never knew and always wanted to know the meaning of my name, GILLENA; i was told as a child it was chosen by my Godmother, whom i never knew. Then later in life already in my fifties while doing contract work as a cataloger i came across a book of baby names, and there it was. I did further research in library books of names and came upon a listing which said it goes way back to the Hebrew Culture and its meaning - JOYFUL. I was pleased with this bit of research, for i think even when i'm sad i yearn for the joy of the day.

GRAB MY BUTTON
<br /> <a href="http://myblog-verses.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0C9WPzL5kFEY1gEitLn4bC5inZjfq2beowWitvrD3zLruIRMxxj1RyrHw6Xcd6SlmEASrTd6rLFn4mfF8D8XC5Mz4ASE8iblAAmc3uaKNuHtYgvzIWajyH64D6kzlwugaU8wP610yKLRq/s320/button2Monday+WRites.jpg" alt="verses" /></a><br />


Written for the prompt today from Björn Rudberg at
Poems In April DAY TWENTY - What's your name
CHALLENGE: Take your name and use it’s meaning to create a poem. If you do not know the meaning of your name, you might find this useful. If you have a nom de plume, or prefer for various reasons to hide your name in a riddle. The prompt is wide-open and you can use any form or metaphor to write your poem today.

55

image courtesy 'the imaginary garden with real toads'



“Live Long and Prosper”
― Leonard Nimoy


Live this new day, and another, for yet more life awaits
Long strides of hope to trek the mountains encountered
And prosper in love and kindness on this beautiful planet

Live long for life is more precious than yearning
And converse in a stewardship of continuity ever
Prosper the care that receiving such a bounty warrants

Live long live strong for the voluminous winds of tomorrow
And in the striving and the giving, there amass the gold to
Prosper the soul of eternity where galaxies whirl through time

Live to breathe the soul's purpose of fanning glories
Long recorded in the mind of history even before becoming
And prosper in the lifelong toil of twinkling just star-like
© gillena cox






Written for the prompt today at
Poems In April DAY EIGHTEEN The Legacies of Nimoy & Pratchett
CHALLENGE: from today's prompt,to read selection of the quoted words of either man, until you find the one that inspires you to write an original poem.

54

Mosiac EGG image courtesy 'the imaginary garden with read toads'



MOSIAC EGG
Words, a poem to speak in tomes;
Adventure assail, galaxies a gazillion totalled,
Over the waves of petulance into the nights,
Of glowing moons, luminescent in star gazes;

Witch-hy brooms, shadowed in full orbs,
Of seasons counted, over courted dark;
Bejeweled fantasies, to craft phantoms,
Sing the songs, of sirens wanton, sylphs pen;

Penchant creating, sustained of melancholy,
Life force cracks the cave of freedom's boom;
Oh now many, many ages, generate the art
Of colour to daylight, enhancing breath of being
Whorls and seasons, time compassing, life
© gillena cox



Written for the prompt today at
Poems In April DAY SIXTEEN What's Your Vision?
For today's prompt, I ask you to consider visionary art. Visionary art, as defined for the purposes of the American Visionary Art Museum is "art produced by self-taught individuals, usually without formal training, whose works arise from an innate personal vision that revels foremost in the creative act itself." Visionary artists are moved by "an inner voice" that compels them to create. The artist himself or herself may not even consider their work as art
CHALLENGE: I've posted some photos (not mine) of various works at AVAM. Let them speak to you and then choose one or more to compose a new poem. Your poem may be about the art itself or about feelings/thoughts/memories/stories the art inspires. It's wide open. Let your inner voice express itself!

53

image from google dot com



THE FOLLY WHICH DESPAIR BUILT
He built his mansions,
By the light of a thousand suns;
His work done, he sighed aloud;
He, resting now on a cloud;

He’s looking down, "i see you guys";
There are the turtles, under my skies;
Still homelessness wears cardboards;
Aye aye ye captains sitting starboard;

LOL, the folly of despair, laughter cannot bear.
© gillena cox




Written for
Poems In April POEM OF DAY FIFTEEN History Is Twistery: The Folly

Wikipedia defines it as "...a building constructed primarily for decoration, but either suggesting through its appearance some other purpose, or merely appearing to be so extravagant that it transcends the normal range of garden ornaments or the class of building to which it belongs."
THE CHALLENGE:...to build a Folly

52

image from google dot com



SOMETIMES ITS TIME...
The time had come,
His Father’s will be done;
Death on the cross,
To the deceiver’s loss;

Yes, the time had come,
Great sadness for some,
Even the temple rebuilt,
Couldn't assuage the guilt,

When that time had come,
And he, left without a chum,
Raised spirit to the most high,
Forgiveness for sins did he buy.
© gillena cox




Written in response to the prompt at Poetry Jam 'Sometimes it's Time...'

51

image courtesy imaginary garden with real toads (i saw the image, liked, cropped it and used it as it served to be my inspiration for today's poem)




"RABBIT RABBIT"
My mother says if you say "rabbit rabbit" on the first of any month
something unexpected happens, much like the tooth and the tooth fairy
that sort of thing.
Where is the entrance to Alice's dream? is there an end to this
rabbit's appearances, does he ever sleep? does he ever dream. does
he follow us around
Or are dreams made of following stuff, some edible some for mere
foolish entertainment like wearing crowns and ordering folks around
sizing up and sizing down.
At any tea party where white gloves are worn, there will be spills
for dainty though these ladies be, a March hare is cause for a stir
or maybe even a stare
All puns intended, for i write it as i know it; the deck of cards
turn carrot, or is it tarot, who knows may be it is and maybe so
all elbows off the table please!!!
© gillena cox






Written for
Poems In April DAY FOURTEEN The Tuesday Platform - unprompted free-range day of the week