24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
The cadmium red wall
Sap green ferns frame the flower garden
Nickel gold azo bulbs center the frame
Dots of cobalt blue peek through
Berries of quinacridone red thrive beside
The indigo stalks.
The meticulous touch of the
Gardener’s hands meander throughout
Eyes can see outside the window tonight
Listening to the droplets from heaven
Outpouring from red sky above rainy night
Making things from a computer in a haven
Viewing the bounties of Creation
Neither my hand but His Hand from above
Leading me into the contemplation
Seeing that there is always possibility of peace
Reigning forth in the familiar spirit of hope
Fervent prayers of my own humanity
Sharing much immensity of love dove
Resigning my spirit for our own undertaking
Resonating the spirit connect of gentle souls
Sharing the universe that gives unending love connects
© Roy Mark Azanza Corrales 06082017 8:05 PM PST
I’d need a miner’s light strapped to my tired head to see out that window
or that
or that
I’ll rely on the kitty marowing
to let me know the change in the weather or his kitty mood
fluctuating moment by moment
I can say there’s a moon out there
I have not the strength to stand up
only one last burst for bed
then my head be dead on the bed
Nite nite, all.
I can’t believe I made it!!!! I’m really happy I did the entire marathon even if it was hard towards the end.
Perfect View
My perfect view would always be changing
I would travel the world
Seeing everything the world has to show
Seeing Big Ben and the Great Wall
My view a different part of the world every day
Letting me explore everywhere and everything
Walk down a Paris street in the rain
Make a snowman in Canada
And make friends across the planet
My perfect view is the world
Running madly,
rushing to nowhere –
what’s the use?
I am in no hurry,
life can go at its own pace –
No worries
Slow motion ,dancing,
Empowering voice goes deep down –
put the brakes on
8/6/17 5:06am
Millie
The flowers in the courtyard
Half withered, half new.
Handfuls of them I want to grip
their stems and take the prettiest ones
home to you.
My aunt knows the names of every flower.
She can tell you of Magnolias,
Jacaranda,
Amaryllis,
and Creosote.
She paints them onto dishes,
stuffed into baskets on the front of bicycles.
The wheels always a bit uneven
But they’re perfect to me.
I slept – pulled into a deep embrace of my own making
Pulled into the warmth of the cove of recycling
Air for another day.
Recovery from all the womb
Thought it had to offer
And yet, I still hope in waking
the sainted candles keep guard on my windowsill
beyond that, is Maggie street
each house a different color of the rainbow
no gingerbread houses here
the birds insist upon singing the day into beginning
I can hear them now
even as I feel my body moving toward sleep
and a day that shall be my night
later the bird chatter will give way to children chattering
scented by the whiff of newly cut grass
it is Sunday
and this week is beginning
or ending
depending on who you are
May The Lord bless us, protect us and lead us to everlasting life
May his Holy Spirit fill us with the courage to bring forth holiness, never strife
May his Grace envelop us pour into us and allow us to never stray
May we always remain the light on the hill guiding all today
May his goodness always be in us to show others we care
May his gifts overflow in us to spread love joy and peace everywhere.
I don’t think the sun has ever looked so lovely as it does this morning.
It’s been a long run, but like every story, all good things must end.
So too does this marathon, the ultimate test of our skills and strengths.
Poetry has always been my weakness,
I entered this marathon to make it a strength.
Whether I succeeded or not, I realize doesn’t matter.
What’s important is that passion for the craft exceeds all.