Tag Archives: morning

Shadows in Colds Absence Make

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A morning sun swallows whole cold abyss.
Out of sunrise crawls forth another day.
Shadows in colds absence make way for this,
This place in time where playful daylight stays.
An eater of days gives birth to new dawn.
Its digestion is the passing of time,
And where once was silence there now is song.
Each days end, and I’ve heard too many, chimes.
Days pass, and I do not grow so tired,
That I may not rise and hold close each piece
Of my heart, and do so ’till expired.
Distant conclusion with so long a lease.
Devoured time and light and day now brings,
Value and reasons for my heart to sing.

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Observing Tide

An angel looked dismayed as they were walking by,
In the morning light reflected off of pools of blood collecting flys,
Buzzards, vultures, coyotes, and the occasional hyena.
No longer to delay,
Awake another blood-filled day,
Out of the sea; the five heads of the beast were screaming.
No one asked for the heroes,
And thought of them as zeros
While they were fighting the beast that didn’t need exterminating.
Morning came again with the red tide.
So many fallen that should not have died,
From ignorance alone,
The beast called the sea his home.
And so will many more after this reading.
Cheers to the callous fools who have no feeling.
I do not often see red tide retreating.

On Being Apart

Good morning my love today
When I awoke and saw not your face
There was emptiness. The morning light did say
“You shall not be here, long, without, in this place.”
But I could hardly believe the light that spoke
For every moment away from you deprives
My soul.
Though my time away, my soul bespoke,
It was not prepared, yet shall survive.
How many dawns apart are we?
How many?
Not soon enough, we’ll see.

Another Day

Woke up to the sun,

Like any other morning.

At the same time, not.

Beside Roses

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A call from wind and windings within
And tangled bellows show,
What was prized above all else
The mirrored echos towed.
All through the mire of the night
And dawn awaiting there,
No stops for me, my love, mustn’t tarry
Beside the roses in still cold air.
The morning sun may catch my back and bathe me in its light,
My face on and forward, forgetting previous nights.
Several days have found me searching,
Wandering through the fog and waters.
Every path is just: ‘one more turn’
Every turn, a dead end I’ve followed.
Until the morning I awake to the bitter taste of real.
You’re gone.
And the ocean of oblivion I long to pull you from,
In vain to bargain with echos your memory fading becomes.
I will wake one day no longer, and before that day comes,
It will be as I remember.
Beside the roses in the sun.

Cold End

The coming dawn, I know it to be cold.
From a distance: voices, faces, in mist,
Are illusions lurking, or so I’m told.
In their discourse, they wildly insist
That if they fervently wish to be real,
It is so. Without permission they lease,
Manafest strange feelings for me to feel,
These things that cause my worries to increase.
A cold path waits for me after waking.
The morning sun abhors my taking warmth,
And I find no heat from it worth taking.
They, in the mist, wish for me to go forth.
Nothing before me but my bitter end:
A garden of sorrow, which I must tend.

A Song of Strings

A song is sung,
A day is done,
One more joyous memory spun.
A song of strings,
Relaxed musings,
Waiting for what next day brings.
Into the night,
Rest until bright
Dawn and new days morning light.
Drift off to sleep,
One less day I think.
The next,
A day to find memories to keep.

I love classical/instrumental music, my favorite being those pieces for violin and cello. One if my things is listening to those and thinking back on the day. Meditation to such music is such a relaxing experience.