Monday WRites 18

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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 #18, my poem today is a FOLD read more about this form here ; whats your mood today ❧✿❧ I invite you to link in with one of your WRites




CLOSING IN
the walls are closing in, closing in, closing in
if love is a given, an age old given, then why, oh why
this noise increasing, to a din, a din, a din
i fear; with a holy fear, a holy fear, holy fear
while the walls, keep closing in, closing in, closing in
wisdom threads on quiet wearied feet, beautiful feet,
and i know, yes i know, only truth in this war will win,
a battle waged, eons, eons ago; the prize - of souls
for this be comforted, he died, for redeeming of sin
so i wait in faith, for that grace, to completely unfold
yet, still, the walls are closing in, closing in, closing in
© gillena cox 2015





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Will Link this to Tuesday Platform

91

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DRAGON FLIGHT
to spit you out
like a worm
wriggling free in the earth-filled mire

black enough is
the unconscious cloud hovering
within the frame of night

where ashes spill from the hand
of man there is no one to hear
the breath of dragons cry

only fantasy can leap that far
falling to earth as if
on tiptoes of fire
© gillena cox


written for the challenge
Words Count With Mama Zen

to choose some word from the given list of 23 "ultraconserved words" that have remained relatively unchanged since the Ice Age; recently identified by a British researchers study; and write a poem of 60 words or less.

90

animation from google dot com


THE RAINS
Awakened in the middle of the night
The music on the roof no way slight
Its the sound of night clouds crying
Yes angels sigh while we are sleeping
Ti's much more than than they can take
Months of constant drought will forsake
The comfort of stars lulled to sparkle
While heat informs the moon's darkle
To mood swings of debris and flood
Careless inputs of who man and mud
© gillena cox 2015


Written in response to Susan's prompt today
Poets United Midweek Motif ~ Entering Summer or Winter

Challenge: Write a poem to share your insights on the events and changes you're experiencing this time of year.

Monday WRites 17

image from google dot com

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 #17, my poem today is a FOLD read more about this form here ; whats your mood today ❧✿❧ I invite you to link in with one of your WRites




IMAGINATION
A glass of water to quench the thirsty soul,
Withered to reasoning, where questions
First aroused, the searching depths so bold;
Bounteous and feathered, those fancies fly;
Outstretched minds to quench the thirsty soul;
Regard similarities, between leaf and frond,
Recurring to measure, wearied schisms of old;
Less they wander, too far, too wide, too distant;
Out-of-reach, hides securely in a pot of gold
Where imaginings soar in readiness thrust
That glass of water, to quench the thirsty soul
© gillena cox





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Linked to Tuesday Platform

88

PICTURES OF CONFETTI

Under the tree there is a pink carpet
Spread; did some one say cherry petal?
Not the answer to fit that colour
Pomerac flowers? yes

Rolling with the wind, in the rhythm of
The wind, bracts, purple's the hue;
Grey concrete pavement holds, the
Sound of footsteps

The centers of white plumerias
Are, filled with the sun's radiance;
They fall, tumble lightly, speckling
The grass, pretty as can be

He left, for she beckons, that Jezebel!
With breasts to suckle displacement;
Children need their father you know,
They make good horseys, hands and knees
On the floor

Ah yes white, is the colour of the rose you
Dunked in the dark waters of your selfish
Blood curdling bowl Jezebel! Remember?

There's no colour to state heartlessness
There's no colour to paint a young wife
In grief, thinner than her petite size,
Sized to un-sexy

Oh but that was long ago, before the
introduction of wild strawberry, tumbleweed
And razzmatazz, pretty names for colours
That always existed

Guess what? some colours, are just mightier
Than the sword
© gillena cox 2015



Written for Fireblossom's prompt
Fireblossom Friday Picture This

The challenge: to complete the title given part of, and then to write a new poem to go with it "Pictures of _________"

Monday WRites 16

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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 #16, my poem today is a FOLD read more about this form here ; whats your mood today ❧✿❧ I invite you to link in with one of your WRites



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;
© gillena cox






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<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 />

Linking this to Tuesday Platform open mic at
The Tuesday Platform

86

TIME
I sit on your window sill,
Balanced and composed,
My creation is complete;

I am made of eons and eras,
My belly had digested all,
That there is, was, and will be;

I am free, freer than a bird,
Or fish in the sea;
I move into yesterday,
Coming out of tomorrow;

Would you open your window for me?
We can frolic the throes of existence,
We can unmake history;

Pulling on a string of yarn, we’ll gather up
All that can be; and still be,
Whatever there already is.
© gillena cox



Revisit to read
of time
sometimes its time




Written in response to Susan's prompt today
Poets United Midweek Motif ~ Time

85

IN MY GARDEN
When the bough breaks
Then the blossoms profusely reiterate
A hardiness, a determination a will
Twice more to liven the days of bird’s thrill
Profusion can mimic the heat of dog days
I guess i just can seems what it says
Bright bougainvillea sprays furl again and again
On the parched dry earth awaiting the rain
© gillena cox 2015




Written for Marian's prompt today
The Tuesday Platform


...


Linking also to
Ruby Tuesdays Too

Monday WRites15

image from google dot com

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 #15, my poem today is a FOLD read more about this form here ; whats your mood today ❧✿❧ I invite you to link in with one of your WRites


WE BEAT
here rhythms and strides of a community
in celebrating the 'we beat' festival
still striving to preserve a unity
circling in an annual events sphere
spins rhythms and strides of a community
with their music crafts and skills
that spot called St James in the city
hones an outdoor bouquet a potpourri
when you get to the nitty gritty
the pulse of footsteps out in the street
are rhythms and strides of a community
© gillena cox






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83

image courtesy imaginary Garden with real toads


FLOWER PETALS
Fallen petals
Carpets of words to describe
Wind’s fandangle
With ceremonial pomp to flights
Fantasy and fanciful streams
Colour the poet’s strands
Of ink filled quills
Spewing pinks, whites, purples
Words, phrases, word-phrases
Fallen petals
© gillena cox 2015



Written for the prompt
Bits Of Inspiration ~ Floral Explosion

82

animation from giphy dot com



SUSTAINABILITY
It’s not just about today, tomorrow counts for sure;
One billion, two billion, how many of us will survive;
Should we continue thus to wage war?
Who will plant the trees in which our forests thrive?
Are we that selfish, not to taste the reward
To the lips of our children, yet to be born, to suckle
Their worth, in dynamic faith of future accord;
Oh but we must, we must learn peace the art of cuddle
Right here where goodness was wrought
© gillena cox 2015




Written in response to Susan's prompt today
Poets United Midweek Motif ~ Sustainability

Monday WRites 14

animation from google dot com

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 #14, my poem today is a FOLD read more about this form here ; whats your mood today ❧✿❧ I invite you to link in with one of your WRites




SOLITUDE
Here, deep within the depths of my solitude,
When neither nature or reality seem able to wander;
Trapped and snared, are the hours of souls to intrude;
Dare i though, neither to hear, listen, or even to ponder;
I choose to taste the sweet depths of my solitude;
Licking the sweet treacle of alone-ness, here now to savour;
In ones and twos, three and fours, if ever a number to conclude;
The count of colourful bracts, on a sun filled day, so clever
In windswept passions, thoughts journey, far out to quietude
To galaxies, already set and waiting a manifestation; i waver
Not, in self swooned loneliness, deep the depths of my solitude.
© 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 />

Will link this to this week's Tuesday Platform open mic at
The Tuesday Platform