Tuesday, August 29, 2023
1087
clipart from google
Even Though
even though you're singing the blues
however loud you will still loose
they're born when they want to
some many and some few
with siblings one never can choose
© gillena cox 2023
Poetics: Siblings, the ties that bind and gag!*
REVISIT TO READ
Monday, August 28, 2023
1086
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I had thought of wearing a dress, with shell pink flowers. Then at the last minute because i choose to wear the high heels with a green strap, my dress choice had also to be changed.
They exchange vows in a small church and everyone is delighted with their young love and so many balloons used in the decorating
Then off we go, to the wedding festivities, which will continue for hours.
the road curves -
the drive from the wedding hall
blue moon following
© gillena cox 2023
REVISIT TO READ
BLOG HOPPING TODAY WITH
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THIS IS MONDAY WRITES 409
LAST MONDAY OF
AUGUST
You've heard about the Monday Blues
well this is Monday WRites (musing on the definition here of rite, as any customary observance for eg the rite of afternoon tea).
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For every Monday in August the Word is CLOTH Link up with one of your posts where the word CLOTH is present or the theme CLOTH is presented
✿
A Piece Of Cloth
Sometimes signals, symbol of victory,
Sometimes bends to wipe tears for territory,
Wetting itself to make us happy,
Polluted some time due to creepy,
Hiding the quarrel behind as door screen
Also faces sunshine with reflecting harming beam
Healing cuts and pain, converting to handkerchief,
A Piece Of Cloth by Abhilash Patra. Read the whole poem at poemhunter HERE
Thursday, August 24, 2023
Tuesday, August 22, 2023
1084
The past remains,
While scent fades,
For the empty bottle,
A work of art to throttle
Imagination sculpted.
Romance secure buttons,
Passion only unbuttons,
If somber evening bottled,
Lingers to long to be poured.
© gillena cox 2023
REVISIT TO READ
Monday, August 21, 2023
1083
She wanted pineapple
Not green banana
They bought from the market a bandana
A head cover to go to the chapel
He asked them to drive him
He didn't care to walk
All they did was stand and talk
A ploy to annoy him
© gillena cox 2023
REVISIT TO READ
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THIS IS MONDAY WRITES 408
A HAPPY AUGUST TO ALL
You've heard about the Monday Blues
well this is Monday WRites (musing on the definition here of rite, as any customary observance for eg the rite of afternoon tea).
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The Meeting by Harriet Monroe, (1860-1936)
The ox-team and the automobile
Stood face to face on the long red road.
The long red road was narrow
At the turn of the hill,
And below was the sun-dancing river
Afoam over the rocks.
The mild-mannered beasts stood par, chewing their cud.
The stubble-bearded man from the mountains,
Rustier than his wagon,
Unmoving eyed the proud chauffeur.
The little ragged girl,
With sun-bleached hair,
Sitting on a hard, yellow-powdery bag,
Looked across at the smart motor hats of the ladies,
And their chiffon scarfs
That the light breeze fingered.
The proud chauffeur blew his horn,
But nothing moved –
Except the foaming, sun-dancing river down below.
Then he jerked his head,
And turned the wheel,
And slowly, carefully,
The automobile moved back over the long red road.
And the mild-mannered beasts lifted their feet,
And the stubble-bearded man flipped his rein,
And the ragged little girl looked ahead up the hill,
And the ox-team lumbered and limped over the long red road.
Found this poem HERE
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Stood face to face on the long red road.
The long red road was narrow
At the turn of the hill,
And below was the sun-dancing river
Afoam over the rocks.
The mild-mannered beasts stood par, chewing their cud.
The stubble-bearded man from the mountains,
Rustier than his wagon,
Unmoving eyed the proud chauffeur.
The little ragged girl,
With sun-bleached hair,
Sitting on a hard, yellow-powdery bag,
Looked across at the smart motor hats of the ladies,
And their chiffon scarfs
That the light breeze fingered.
The proud chauffeur blew his horn,
But nothing moved –
Except the foaming, sun-dancing river down below.
Then he jerked his head,
And turned the wheel,
And slowly, carefully,
The automobile moved back over the long red road.
And the mild-mannered beasts lifted their feet,
And the stubble-bearded man flipped his rein,
And the ragged little girl looked ahead up the hill,
And the ox-team lumbered and limped over the long red road.
Found this poem HERE
✿
For every Monday in August the Word is CLOTH Link up with one of your posts where the word CLOTH is present or the theme CLOTH is presented
✿
Thursday, August 17, 2023
1082
[image courtesy dVerse poetry pub ]
HOPPING TODAY WITH 
What Is The Equation
Will there be salt to brine our sorrows
Or hearts to swell our passions
Will each mouthful of controversy
Sate the hunger of each other's greed
Will the rich man say enough
And the poor man say i'm okay
Will our treasons burn in hell
As we boat our way across the Styx
What is the equation for equity
In this our earthly existence?
© gillena cox 2023
MTB: Convince us with rhetorical devices
REVISIT TO READ
Tuesday, August 15, 2023
1081
Birds sound the wake-up calls,
An opened door gives the view,
Of smokey clouds; still, unmoving,
Not like the pace
Of morning into a new day.
More like the tree sillhouettes,
Seeming to stay shadows,
Only they wouldn't;
For a deliberate sun comes out,
To shine-up the greeness.
That colour, so much,
A Caribbean sun loves.
© gillena cox 2023
HOPPING TODAY WITH REVISIT TO READ
Monday, August 14, 2023
1080
[image courtesy dVerse Poetry Pub]
A Welcome Move
They were both country folk, Anslem and Gillian. Evening shadows and tree sillhouettes accompanied them as they walked the paths holding hands under moon bright nights.
He was never tired of their moon. However he craved city lights. His friends had written letters about street lights and neon lights and storefront lights. They had escaped the bush and they were working in government offices in town.
Anslem wanted a slice of that life. He had sent in numerous applications and was at the verge of dissapointment. Gillian though was a trooper. She told him "Don't give up Anslem; we will get a favourable reply soon; exactly when the time is right.
And so it was on this moon bright night they walked on the pavement; traffic holding its breath, sky a tense diaphragm in the city street, with workers returning home.
© gillena cox 2023
[A Welcome Move #flash fiction]
REVISIT TO READ
given a complete line from a poem, which must be included somewhere in your story, in the same order and with no words in between, within the 144-word limit. You are, however, allowed to play with the punctuation.
‘Traffic holding its breath,
Sky a tense diaphragm’
from Twice Shy Poem by Seamus Heaney
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THIS IS MONDAY WRITES 407
A HAPPY AUGUST TO ALL
You've heard about the Monday Blues
well this is Monday WRites (musing on the definition here of rite, as any customary observance for eg the rite of afternoon tea).
❧✿❧
Aedh Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven byW. B. Yeats 1865 –1939
Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
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For every Monday in August the Word is CLOTH Link up with one of your posts where the word CLOTH is present or the theme CLOTH is presented
✿
Thursday, August 10, 2023
1079
YESTERDAYS: A Spanish Ovillejo
When was yesterday's rain ever
Debated as never
To be spoken of again?
Like it was the same
Dish tasted at breakfast,
A thing of sound repast;
Generations fade fast,
So history writes itself
To the topmost shelf;
Ever, never, again, the same, past.
© gillena cox 2023
BLOG HOPPING TODAY WITH
MTB: Spanish rain in the Ovillejo
REVISIT TO READ
Tuesday, August 8, 2023
1078
[city of Port if Spain; original image from the internet was in colour, now presented in greyscale for this post]
RECALL
When the noise dies down
Who will hear the sound of silence? Will irritating honk of horns in a traffic jam intrude on peace?
Hovering over recall,
Like a giant cloud of cotton candy,
Out of reach;
Longing to be bitten into a rainy day,
Of torrents angry enough to flood a city,
Old enough to be dying for restoration?
© gillena cox 2023
BLOG HOPPING TODAY WITH
Poetics: Creating Visuals and Amber Rose Tamblyn
REVISIT TO READ
Monday, August 7, 2023
1077
[image courtesy dVerse Poetry Pub]
There stars are out
No one cares a hoot
Its movie night and
Our couch is comfy
Bring on the popcorn
Extra butter is best
Eyes pop at the bizzare
Hands will cover eyes
At some point even though
They are greasy and salty
© gillena cox 2023
REVISIT TO READ
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THIS IS MONDAY WRITES 406
A HAPPY AUGUST TO ALL
You've heard about the Monday Blues
well this is Monday WRites (musing on the definition here of rite, as any customary observance for eg the rite of afternoon tea).
❧✿❧
[found this poem online at The Guardian - poem of the week]
ENJOY.
Interlude by Amy Lowel(1874-1925)
When I have baked white cakes
And grated green almonds to spread on them;
When I have picked the green crowns from the strawberries
And piled them, cone-pointed, in a blue and yellow platter;
When I have smoothed the seam of the linen I have been working;
What then?
To-morrow it will be the same:
Cakes and strawberries,
And needles in and out of cloth
If the sun is beautiful on bricks and pewter,
How much more beautiful is the moon,
Slanting down the gauffered branches of a plum-tree;
The moon
Wavering across a bed of tulips;
The moon,
Still,
Upon your face.
You shine, Beloved,
You and the moon.
But which is the reflection?
The clock is striking eleven.
I think, when we have shut and barred the door,
The night will be dark
Outside.
For every Monday in August the Word is CLOTH Link up with one of your posts where the word CLOTH is present or the theme CLOTH is presented
✿
Thursday, August 3, 2023
1076
Memory Sweet
Then sunlight smiles to treetops bright
And birds from morning clouds alight
Sweet songs on air
No melody so near
Than that one of my heart last night
© gillena cox 2023
BLOG HOPPING TODAY WITH
REVISIT TO READ
Tuesday, August 1, 2023
1075
[Van Gogh image courtesy dVerse poetry pub]
Aroma of a sautee lingers
On night breezes;
Layers of romance lighted
By moon not at all shy.
Peeled away like an onion,
Desire waned, to succumb
To heart's solution;
Of not what is, but ought to be.
Storing your embrace to memories,
I turn from onion
To matryoshka dolls,
Treasuring every sequence.
© gillena cox 2023
BLOG HOPPING TODAY WITH
REVISIT TO READ