445

[image from google dot com]


HAD HE CLIMBED HIGHER
Jack clambered up the bean stalk
And there he was with a fee fie foo fum
The giant, a monstrous gawk

Had he climbed higher, high enough

To touch the sun
He would have seen and non too soo
A mun starr eyeing Houston
Big enough to overshadow the moon

Had he climbed high, and kept on climbing

He would have heard the whispers
From down below solar eclipse sol ar e clipse sola
Eclipse becoming clearer and crisper
Rising to a holler

Had he climbed higher, high enough

He would have seen him falling, falling falling
Collapsed from sun burns
And his tears the rivers and dams filling
Poured in like ashes to an urn

Had he claimed high, and kept on climbing

With those whose every possession was caught
In a flood, where no oracle prophesied an ark
Jack would have heard the sobs of those fraught
A people ravished by his fall, his mark

Had he climbed higher, high enough

He would have heard a name through distraught sobs
Called out "Harvey"
But no he just grabbed the goose and other such dobs
And down the bean stalk he went in a jarvie
HAD HE CLIMBED HIGHER © gillena cox 2017

[video courtesy imaginary garden & you tube]


Blog hopping today with imaginary garden

A Skyflower Friday: Monsters
Prompted by Kerry O'Connor, standing in for Shay, with a Fireblossom Friday flavoured challenge.

Revisit
August 31 2015

444

[image from Yahoo dot com]


THIS POEM IS APPRECIATION, ADMIRATION, REVERENCE
This poem is the art of appreciation.
This poem is admiration - aesthetic of life.
This poem is reverence, a humble bow.

Van Gogh, oh Van Gogh, why the ear?
Why this extreme way of passion?
The sun flowers nod at your ardour,
To colour imitating splendour,
Of a bee's delight, no words only hues,
This poem is appreciation for star filled nights.

He sees her, he is timid, he is shy,
Those curves, they mesmerize him,
Stun him, reduce him to a stutter,
Where words are eaten alive,
And brain becomes sated to just dance,
This poem is admiration of youth hushed of lyrics.

Oh morning dew, oh sunset glow,
How masterful is ocean's lore,
By earth to fashion his smile and core ,
And by his side his fleshed bone stride
This poem is reverence of creation's pride.

This poem is appreciation, aka respect.
This poem is admiration be that as it may, respect.
This poem is reverence - a humble bow, respect.
THIS POEM IS APPRECIATION ADMIRATION REVERENCE © gillena cox 2017


Note
van Gogh's ear

Enjoy The Music


Blog hopping today at Poet's United

Midweek Motif ~ Respect
Susan is the prompter

Monday WRites 120

[image from Pinterest]


YOUR PRESENCE LORD
Unquenchable fires,
There, i do not want to be;
In the protecting presence of
Your heavenly angels Lord lead me
Where ever i wander,
Loving Shepherd seek me;
And return me to that place,
Where You rather i'd be
Where so gathered,
By two and by three;
That i may not perish but,
The heavens may rejoice
© gillena cox
[first published 2011 at Wordchimes dot com]
[Inspiration from Matthew chapter 18]

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Last Monday of this August, prayers for a speedy recovery for those suffering the effects of Harvey ❧✿❧ 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 #120, ❧✿❧ What's your mood like today ❧✿❧ I invite you to link in with one of your WRites ❧✿❧




❧✿❧

Monday WRites 119

CLOUDS OF THE MORNING
There they are,
clouds of the morning,
lounging in the blue sky afar,

like every morning they are there,
decor of sky,
as moody and unpredictable as a woman.
Sometimes pouting, sometimes dancing,
sometimes wearing yellow hues,
sometimes silver accents,
coiffured in huge puffs, or light romantic wisps
but always there they are,

so unlike womankind, silent
that is,
until though, moved to tears,
enough said,
But such are clouds,
of the morning.
CLOUDS OF THE MORNING © gillena cox 2017

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Good Monday ❧✿❧ 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 #119, ❧✿❧ What's your mood like today ❧✿❧ I invite you to link in with one of your WRites ❧✿❧




Blog hopping today with

Blue Monday Flower


❧✿❧

Revisit
21 August 2016

❧✿❧

Enjoy The Music

441

[chameleon image from Bing dot com]

SHAPE SHIFTING
Inside the moon is nest of chameleon,
In recluse I watch their puffed necks,
As they scuttle by under camouflage,
How come the moon shifts shape?
Its not because of me, it because of them,
Silent gaze is your best retort,
For poems are never stored to yon moon,
Only shared in utter desperation,
When words are all we got but nought,
For light or shadowy cloud or halo.
SHAPE SHIFTING© gillena cox 2017


Blog hopping today with
imaginary garden


Micro Poetry ~ Uncomplicated Things
Prompted by Kerry O'Connor

✿ܓEnjoy The Music

440

[Hummingbird images from the internet]


COME DANCE SAYS YERETTE
Way way back to days of Hyarima,
You resonate with breath of heaven,
Little jewel of the sky,
May i call you little dancer?

Flitting into my garden,
With your sword-like beak in fencing flèche,
And feet en l’air,
Such a wonderful sight you are;

You tease with your glimpse of delight,
Even Lady moon lowers her sweet coy lashes,
Sigh, sigh, you never stay long enough,
So our breaths may do a pas de deux.
COME DANCE SAYS YERETTE © gillena cox 2017




Notes
Trinidad - land of the hummingbird... Yerette literally means hummingbird  in the original Amerindian(Caribs and Arawaks) language. It is believed these mysterious birds, with their vibrant colors, flittering wings and aerial acrobatics, contain the souls of the local’s ancestors

Chief Hyarima

The hummingbird - messenger ....of heaven He thereby connects humans with the power of God and raises them to the fifth (and next) level of human consciousness and the process of human development.

A Mayan legend says the hummingbird is actually the sun in disguise, and he is trying to court a beautiful woman, who is the moon.

contrary to popular belief, hummingbirds can walk, but they are pretty bad at it


There are two hummingbirds on The Coat of Arms of Trinidad and Tobago


Blog hopping with
imaginary garden

Bits of Inspiration ~ Keep Dancing
Prompted by Susie Clevenger

Revisit
19 August 2016 NIGHT ROMPS
19 August 2016 TOPSY TURVY TURNING TALES

439

[Sierra Leone Flood pic from google dot com]

THICK BROWNING
A rich thick browning,
Rich with lives of helpless and hapless,
Mud of Sierra Leone throttling,
No child's play this mix;
Chairs, arms, gasps, in thick browning
And livestock flay,
Where wheels to sailing bouts taking,
A cruel hand, no laughing teeth nor gums,
Tis these flood waters about be muddling,
Sieved through the CNN's and such.
We shudder sadly this rich thick browning
THICK BROWNING © gillena cox 2017


Blog hopping today with

Poets United Midweek Motif ~ Flood
Prompted by Susan

Monday WRites 118

[Oswaldo Guayasamin image
from google dot com]


BEGGAR MAN AT THE ROADSIDE
A man of faith at,
The roadside sat,
A simple man, A beggar he;
Of another man heard he,
Called Jesus, an anointed one

God's only Son;
The beggar man, blind he was,
Bartimaeus son of Timaeus;

Jesus was passing along the road,
Where that beggar took up abode;
Summoning his faith he called to Him,
And, many tried to discourage him;
But, he called out louder and again,
For Jesus's attention, he must gain;

The beggar man,
That simple man,
Man of faith;

"Jesus, Lord, Son of David",
That was what he shouted;

And Jesus heard,
And Jesus answered,
That he be brought forward,
A meeting straightforward;

"What do you want of me"
"That I should see"
And by his faith thus stated
Was he a miracle awarded
He saw the road and followed

After Jesus
Bartimaeus
The beggar man
The simple man
Of faith
BEGGAR MAN AT THE ROADSIDE © gillena cox 2008 - A meditation on Mark Chapter 10
First published at Wordchimes dot com

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Posting an oldie today written in 2008❧✿❧ 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 #118, ❧✿❧ What's your mood like today ❧✿❧ I invite you to link in with one of your WRites ❧✿❧



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Blog hopping with
imaginary garden with real toads, its Open Mic on Tuesdays

The Tuesday Platform

✿
Enjoy The Music

437

[Caladiums from my Garden, Enjoy!]

AMBIENCE
Be inspired by the ambience,
For today, the icons of joy
Lie in ambush with providence,
Waiting to spring upon thee;
Unwary usurper of words
wielding sentences, syllables, phrases
Like peace and hope and faith and tomorrow
All these weapons of uncanny transgressions
Wanting to capsize a world spinning in dilemma
Gratitude and praise stalks the unwary
Look out, love bombs!
AMBIENCE © gillena cox 2017


Blog hopping with
imaginary garden with real toads

Weekend Mini-Challenge: Out of Your Own Words
Magalay asks of us to use the line of one of our old poems to start a new poem and link to the old poem
I used from Message To A Poet
verse 3 Line 3 "Be inspired by the ambience"

♫ ♪•*¨*•♫ ♪

Enjoy The Music

436

[An image from Pinterest]


COFFEE MORNINGS
First light of morning streams in on shards
Of sheer magic
The aroma of coffee not yet brewing
Lures the poet in a semi- somnambulant state
To the kettle
The first whistle of the morning is cajoling
Words dance in wordle rhythm
Never settling like the spoonful of coffee
Which instantly dissolves rising in a steam
Of hot magic
When the air filled with perfumed breezes
Whose elixir mixed in by delft invisible hands
Weave a poem of early morning dew then
Ribbons of syllabic patterns tint the blossoms
Afresh again anew
COFFEE MORNINGS © gillena cox 2017


Blog hopping with
imaginary garden with real toads

Writing Unseen


Revisit
10 August 2016
10 August 2015

Monday WRites 117

[Robots - image from the internet]


FUTURE PERFECT(QUESTION MARK)
It is the time penultimate zone of new normal; people are just that people, Ego looks overs his people with courage, [fear has been banished, forever-?] if you read something in the news you do not like, you can *suck your teeth [in T&T*cheups] and say false news - false news , politics is about who visits whom, and who [ didn't], tweets are of birds and men.

Time does not exist; ceteris paribus, there is no chaos, if you leave The Village of A on Tuesday you can arrive at The Village of B on Monday [of the same week], there are no nights, [just sun and moon intervals], everything is clear cut, we are everything, and nothing then.

The couple next door is [having] a baby; they sit at the table, talking shop: colour of eyes, shape of nose, feel of hair, these are good people, they do not squabble, swaddled in sweet grey (very cute), said baby arrives, [via a reputable internet carrier] next day YOU WHOO!!!

Of the ‘old world’ though, wishes and history remain; her name is Gift, she looks at the baby then she asks the grownup standng next to her , “Auld-er , if you lived in the ‘old world’ [eons ago] what would you have liked to be, boy or girl? “girl answers Auld-er, I so love stilettos and would not have minded being a president’s wife,” “me too Auld-er” Gift chimes in, “and I so-o luv nail polish too.”
FUTURE PERFECT(QUESTION MARK) © gillena cox 2017

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




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Blog hopping with


The Tuesday Platform

✿

Enjoy The Music


✿

Aside
Roller Skate Stilettos: I came across this after i posted, so i edited to include it. This made me smile.

434

[images: the art of Romain de Tirtoff - fair use]


LETTERS G AND Z
G is for grandma, whose name also starts with G
She is me
But Z starts the name of her granddaughter
Who fills grandma's day with laughter

Heart shapes,
Peeled grapes,
And mermaids,
These she love, and bead in her braids

Cotton candy, strawberry ice cream
Gummy worms seem,
Wiggly real, yet they taste yummy!
LETTERS G AND Z © gillena cox 2017



Blog hopping with

Flash 55 PLUS!
Challenged by Kerry to write a 55 word new poem with an OPTIONAL EXTRA - to consider the art of Romain de Tirtoff a.k.a. Erté,