339

[Mark Webster - Abstract Geometric Futurist Mountain River Landscape Oil Painting
found through a google search]

GLASS CLIFF A MANTRA
The mountain loomed, huge in fantasy;
Real cartoon-shaped clouds just hung there;
Neither sitting or shifting;
Far away, above them all, were the frozen dreams,
Of a storybook girl;
She had to climb that mountain,
She had to reclaim them,
For had she not dreamed,
They would not have sprouted nylon wings,
Whereupon sunlight glinted, if they stayed within reach;
Glass cliff, she whispered, glass cliff, she chanted,
Glass cliff she shouted,
And in a magical, mystical moment
She scaled that mountain, with her hair pulled back in a bun,
Straight to the topmost shelf;
Stretched out her hand, and grabbed her volant prize
GLASS CLIFF A MANTRA © gillena cox

Written for

Words Count With Mama Zen
Challenged by Mama Zen to write a poem using using at least one of The Oxford Dictionaries 'words of the year' 2016 short list given

Sorry i went a little over the (70 words count)

Monday WRites 89

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SEASONS GREETINGS
Smothered in star-shine, i refuse to
Shake off the Christmas hype;
Slowly, i sink back into childhood days of
Santa; alleged fat guy in red suit going on
Sleigh rides, all over the globe;
Stopping at chimney-ed houses,
Stuffing stockings, unseen by circles of
Singing carolers; tis a
Season studded with Joy;
So what of houses without chimneys?
Santa!!!
Seasons greetings to all.
SEASONS GREETINGS © gillena cox 2016

<br /> <a href="http://myblog-verses.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdj6SWRyNup04Tu-DHdHku-eZ46dPvdR1behyQDeWRkQXoqB8Pr9TDH7LXreco7jHeqxnDlOzlpnWCxnnIcZ6yu9Mtgpe4qv8trNe-9jfOesQgdvblbagwRByQNI0sgZ26mwN4lVUk_NeL/s200/mw.jpeg" alt="verses" /></a><br />
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 #89, ❧✿❧ What's your mood like today ❧✿❧ I invite you to link in with one of your WRites






Will Link To

Tuesday Platform

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337

MERRY CHRISTMAS




COLLABORATING FOR CHRISTMAS
It was the day before Christmas, he was hungry, mighty hungry,
He stalked the pantry, the cupboards were empty,
He didn't want to sleep, he was too hungry for that
Guess what, no, not guest what? Guess what???

Shhhhhhhh!!!
The last festival he had eaten was, Halloween
No, not the last time he had eaten, the last festival!!!

For he was, The Eater Of Great Joy
But that, could never satisfy him.
Shudder, shudder!!!

He had heard about Santa.
He had heard about A Star.
Maybe he’s the magi
who never crossed the desert.

He felt so alone, so left back.
He waddled to the window,
For he thought he heard a flash
He opened his hungry mouth to taste stardust
Then he burped, and out flew Halloween
Spinning in reverse back to October.

Miracle of miracles, he felt his body shinning
He heard angels singing
He smelt a man in a red suit offering
Milk and cookies to him

Milk and cookies!!! are these eat-ables?
Yes! answered the dear old man and vanished
With a Ho Ho Ho

COLLABORATING FOR CHRISTMAS © gillena cox 2016

I am the prompter today at

We are collaborating for Christmas
In the above poem I have included two lines from Björn Rudberg
"Maybe he’s the magi
who never crossed the desert".

336

1 Day to Christmas

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"UNTITLED" (STAR)
In a corner of the world
where star dust leans in mounds
against an ebony sky line

A star is maturing fully
with points so sparkly sharp
the egos of kings to shatter

Yet three will remain intact
humbly mounting their camels
to travel wide and far

Creaky old knees to bend
in a manger alit
by thus pointed star
"UNTITLED" (STAR) © gillena cox 2016

Written for

A Skyflower Friday: Untitled
Kerry challenges us to choose a sculpture by Felix Gonzalez-Torres from his 'Untitled' series and write a new poem, with the same method of title. The content and style of the poem is open, but we should take our cue from "issues of identity, desire, originality, loss, the metaphor of journey"

I chose "Untitled"(A Corner of Baci)

Monday WRites 88

Joseph Mulamba-Mandangi, Nativity, 2001
source: Nativity paintings from around the world


AVE AVE AVE
“I am the handmaid of the Lord,” Luke 1:38

If you pause a while,
I’ll tell you a story,
Of the world’s greatest mother;

Conceived with child,
Only for heaven’s glory,
Espoused of God, the father;

“Yes,” without guile
Replied our Mary
Gentle maid, she won God’s favour;

Her faithful style,
We, daily remember,
And sing ave, ave, ave; of her.
AVE AVE AVE 2004 gillena cox



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 #88, ❧✿❧ What's your mood like today ❧✿❧ I invite you to link in with one of your WRites

<br /> <a href="http://myblog-verses.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdj6SWRyNup04Tu-DHdHku-eZ46dPvdR1behyQDeWRkQXoqB8Pr9TDH7LXreco7jHeqxnDlOzlpnWCxnnIcZ6yu9Mtgpe4qv8trNe-9jfOesQgdvblbagwRByQNI0sgZ26mwN4lVUk_NeL/s200/mw.jpeg" alt="verses" /></a><br />

Linking also to

Tuesday Platform


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334

❧✿❧ 7 Days To Christmas❧✿❧

[image from google dot com]

OF TWILIGHT AND FISHERS OF MEN
And, before that renowned midnight,
Of glorious angelic singing voices;
To the silence and shepherds afield;
Came the twilight finale, emerging stars;
Twinkling, day and night sparkling prophesy;
In tongues of scions, and stocks of Jesse;
Sumptuous in rough skins of wild honey,
In disturbed nests of locusts winged;
For nary any such appointment,
Again, ever shall be given for Eden's fall,
For these are, for certain, the last days.
OF TWILIGHT AND FISHERS OF MEN © gillena cox 2016

blog hopping today at

The Final Twilight ~ Micro Poetry
Kerry has challenged us to write a poem limit 25 lines...our frame of reference is 'The Final Twilight', quoted from Jorge Luis Borges ~ The Wolf.

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333

image from Mayhem and Muse

MEADOW SONGS
To a la la lalamilty of bemusement sky,
A kite flies, from a dewdrop string;
Snarfdiffanous, is the weather that day;
And a lady, rhambangle without her jewels,
To its dismay, lets go of marmalade clowns;
In a meadow below, grassy and glamorous,
A cow sings sweetly, of moon and hay.
MEADOW SONGS © gillena cox 2016

blog hopping at

Challenged to write a new poem with the following given nonsense words: snarfdiffanous, rhambangle and lalamilty.
Marian prompted

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Monday WRites 87

❧✿❧12 Days to Christmas❧✿❧


THE BABY JESUS
There lived a maiden fair,
A maiden fair was she;
So full of grace in God's sight,
In God's sight stood she.

This grace filled maiden,
So named Mary she;
Was hailed by an angel
So named Gabriel, he.

A woman chosen,
A woman blessed;
Such was dubbed our Mary,
Hailed by the angel she.

The Son of God the Father,
That son was given she;
To bear in her maiden's womb,
That he a baby might be.

This news startled our Mary,
For no man knew she;
Yet, this grace filled maiden,
Replied so shall it be.

Then God spoke to Joseph,
A dream was given he;
Of the fair maiden Mary,
A father to that baby be.

I knew not that virgin woman,
The amazed Joseph he;
Pleaded to the heavens above,
For this so puzzled he.

He took then the maiden,
As betrothed then was he;
And on a little donkey,
Journeyed he with she.

To Judea from Galilee,
That little donkey he;
Took the two betrothed,
For such his task would be.

When to Ephrata-Bethlehem
Where all inns were filled;
There in a stable's hay,
There was made to lay;

The maiden's miraculous baby;
Jesus, Immanuel he.
Gillena Cox 2012



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 #87, ❧✿❧ What's your mood like today ❧✿❧ I invite you to link in with one of your WRites

<br /> <a href="http://myblog-verses.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdj6SWRyNup04Tu-DHdHku-eZ46dPvdR1behyQDeWRkQXoqB8Pr9TDH7LXreco7jHeqxnDlOzlpnWCxnnIcZ6yu9Mtgpe4qv8trNe-9jfOesQgdvblbagwRByQNI0sgZ26mwN4lVUk_NeL/s200/mw.jpeg" alt="verses" /></a><br />

Linking to
Recuerda Mi Corazon
12 Days of Mary Love, Day 12


AND

Tuesday Platform

331

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THEY WALK IN THE NIGHT
I
They strolled arm in arm, happily, unhurried,
Snow and winter.
They were made for each other, folks would
Always say.
Behind them, cabin trailed, of wood sturdy
For she was all that.
A being of forest and trees, made to withstand
Inevitable change.

II
She seemed sad though, in a season of wonderland,
What could it be that she lacked?
Surely not hearth, fire, nor ice, nor stocking
Awaiting Santa.

III
Ceteris paribus; lurking, stalking, that
Magical night.
Unseen by those, too busy with metrical cares,
Soul of the poet.
THEY WALK IN THE NIGHT © gillena cox 2016

Written for

Poetry and Flash Fiction with Magaly:
Snow Birthed Tales
Using Jenny Leslie’s photo as inspiration, to craft a new poem or story, while keeping in mind the following guidelines:
If you choose Poetry- please write 13 lines or fewer
- use one (or all) of these words: snow, cabin, ice

❧✿❧
courtesy Imaginary Garden Jenny Leslie's image

330

[image from google dot com]


Dear Sanaa wishing you a wonderful year as you curve into your 2016 birthday


MANGER
My wish for you a manger
To there wise men are visitor
And kings will bow at your feet
Bringing gifts and treats sweet

My wish for you a manger
For over you dear ever
A brightest star to shine
Swaddling warmth be thine

My wish for you a manger
For humble though your shelter
Your honour that of majesty
And in communion of harmony

My wish for you a manger
For there you'll find a saviour
Divine love to bless and keep you
Forever a friend you'll have too
MANGER © gillena cox 2016


Blog hopping today at


Prompt Nights – Round hour of dawning blush, come blow me a Wish – Birthday Special

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329

OFF HER SHOES
She bounces into grama's house
A little girl of four
To grama's room she enters
Through the open door

With stories to tell of school and more
Of shadows, moon, planets and such

Sometimes she wears jeans and tees
Sometimes a skirt and matching top
Sometimes her hair's pinned up in clips
Always though she wears a smile

If at all she is a fairy butterfly
Her shoes she removes before her wings
OFF HER SHOES © gillena cox 2016

Blog hopping today at

Bits Of Inspiration ~ Shoes
prompted by Susie Clevenger

328

[image from google dot com]


WINGING IT
I
Many days, it's about the shape of leaves
For the flowers drop, rain-beaten,
And the moon, given to constrictions,
Might be somewhat swollen, still,
Yet not fully.

II
Then, there are those days,
Light as cotton candy, in cotton candy hues;
Soft pale pinks, blues and warm frothy whites,
Like milk;
Nourishment from the Gods.

III
The giant bird of steel and drones,
Lands on the runway,
You board, since your ticket is valid;
Your passport bears the stamp of traveller,
And reeks of reality.

IV
Sorted near the window,
You look, only longingly,
Still, those clouds you love so much,
Diaphanous as dreams, are,
Yet far away.
WINGING IT © gillena cox 2016


Blog hopping today at
Mid week motif ~ Aviation
Susan prompting today also reminds us that today December 7th is International Civil Aviation Day

Monday WRites 86

image found through a google search at INNU

DIVINE FEMININE
A jewel, a feminine essence
Skillfully chosen, a vessel of honour
Mary, eternal mother
A heart, where only love resides
In a tender merciful mysterious design.
DIVINE FEMININE © gillena cox 2016



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 #86, ❧✿❧ What's your mood like today ❧✿❧ I invite you to link in with one of your WRites

<br /> <a href="http://myblog-verses.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdj6SWRyNup04Tu-DHdHku-eZ46dPvdR1behyQDeWRkQXoqB8Pr9TDH7LXreco7jHeqxnDlOzlpnWCxnnIcZ6yu9Mtgpe4qv8trNe-9jfOesQgdvblbagwRByQNI0sgZ26mwN4lVUk_NeL/s200/mw.jpeg" alt="verses" /></a><br />

Linking to
Recuerda Mi Corazon
12 Days of Mary Love, Day 5


AND

Tuesday Platform

326

[clip art from google dot com]

I wonder if the snow loves the trees and fields, that it kisses them so gently? And then it covers them up snug, you know, with a white quilt; and perhaps it says “Go to sleep, darlings, till the summer comes again.” – Lewis Carroll

WINTER WONDROUS WARMTH
Twas such a wondrous time of sleep
Earth her blankets, white in heap
And when the night encroached on day
There lay he asleep, warm in the hay

Twas songs of angels, with riotous joy
Told everyone of, this darling little boy
Wise Kings three, and shepherds, went there
To wish him welcome, from far and from near.
WINTER WONDROUS WARMTH © gillena cox 2016

Blog hopping today at

Prompt Nights
Winter my dear would be cold without warm memories – [37]

❧✿❧

[video of choice today]

325

[image from google dot com]

AND THE NEXT
Dreams are places waiting to explore,
Vast expansions of borders shifting
Shifting what never existed, only what is
For certain, a sphere, a realm remote

Reality becomes, on awakening,
That place to return to, only its not,
For where lies eternity, is where,
Crossroads of time would merge

Into a mist of hazy momentum, there,
Yielding walls, partition out evanescence
For surely, here time records breath
The next one, and the next, and awakening
AND THE NEXT © gillena cox 2016

Blog hopping today at

Out of Standard - Future/Tense

324

[play doh art by Zuri & gramma Gillena Cox]

If we leave creation to the hands of a child, whorls of possibilities enfold, circles and swirls which life envisions, these are lines that can sparkle spiders, to the web of nursery rhymes, where juices and jelly beans are caught in the pattern to sunlight, crafting day to day additions to shapes and flavours, all of which are necessary to definitions of play and dough.

smiley faces -
just as wind lifts the curtain
one more dot added
© gillena cox 2016


Blog hopping at

Tuesday Platform open mic

Monday WRites 85

[image from myway dot com]

COCONUT FUDGE
This poem is sweet
This poem is a candy
This poem is the sacrifice of a mother's hands
This poem is fudge

Thick as treacle, brown as chocolate
The smooth yummy-ness
Melts on your tongue, sweet.

White coconut meat, scrawled
Across tin grater, steady and firm,
Hands of a mother. Milk of the nut
Squeezed through a strainer

Bubble bubble what's the hurry?
Take your time, thicken
To just right consistency.
Beat beat, a rhythm from the ladle
Wooden and willing,
Thick enough is the treacle.

Spread in a shallow pan.
Buttered is better, pat tenderly.
Sweet as can be, mark out,
Then cut the cutest little cubes.

This poem is candy, children to delight.
This poem is coconut fudge, a bit of cocoa powder mixed in.
COCONUT FUDGE © gillena cox 2016

[image from myway dot com]

Process Note
The Mother's hands in this poem are not mine, but those of my mother, who made for me as a child (and my other siblings) delicious fudge and sugar cakes. I cannot make these sweets even if my life depended on it, Thanks Mom for these precious little gifts of delight.



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 #85, ❧✿❧ What's your mood like today ❧✿❧ I invite you to link in with one of your WRites

<br /> <a href="http://myblog-verses.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdj6SWRyNup04Tu-DHdHku-eZ46dPvdR1behyQDeWRkQXoqB8Pr9TDH7LXreco7jHeqxnDlOzlpnWCxnnIcZ6yu9Mtgpe4qv8trNe-9jfOesQgdvblbagwRByQNI0sgZ26mwN4lVUk_NeL/s200/mw.jpeg" alt="verses" /></a><br />


Blog hopping at

Weekend Mini Challenge: Cooking up a storm

322

[image from google dot com]

STILETTO CORRIDORS
I
Cave dwelling
Around the fire the family eats
There's meat on the spit
Woman she, serves her brood
The men have put away theirs spears
Till the next hunt

II
Drawn to the light
At the tunnel's end
He wears the suit
The jacket and the pants
She has laundered them
With acceptance for such is love
She is, the good wife

III
Stiletto corridors
She tick tocks to
A new time clock
She wears the tight, tight skirts
She wears the pants too
Brings home the bacon
And she fries it
STILETTO CORRIDORS © gillena cox 2016


Written for Prompt Nights
When diving into the possibilities of Role Reversal – [36]


❧✿❧

[video choice today]