Category Archives: Daily poetry

Flourishing Strokes of Beauty

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Flourishing strokes across the paper,

Creating a piece that’s worth the time to read.

Flourishing strokes across the canvas,

Creating a piece that’s worth the time to see.

Flourishing strokes across the wall,

Creating a piece that’s worth the beauty.

Flourishing strokes across life,

Creating a life worth living.

http://www.dailyprompt.wordpress/flourish

Vision of Colors to a Blind Man

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Drawn by my daughter, Katie, age 11 at the time.

Seeing through your eyes, what a joy to see such clarity.

The leaves on the trees, the petals on the flowers,

Such beauty that surrounds you brings me levity.

Each blade of grass, each feather on the birds.

My soul soars to such heights.

I yearn for a day when my eyes could see like yours,

Yet only in my mind can I see those lights.

My sight is lost, my time has gone,

My eyes have long since faded.

But thanks to your, your words bring back

Those colors and clarity and the pain is alleviated.

Home light

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Reaching down to kiss the little face that peered back at her,

She gently held his hand

She knew these moments were so fleeting,

that time would not stand still.

She would take another glance at him just to memorize his face.

Tomorrow he would be different still

because that’s what time did to all.

It changes us. It changes them.  Then, one day we all are gone.

So just for now as she kissed him goodnight,

She’d remember now.  His look.  His sweet baby smell.

And when he was grown into a young man,

She’d keep the home light on.

He’d always have home.

She’d see to that.  He was her son, afterall.

Her stars and her moon.  Her sweet, little child.

No one could take that love away.

 

Fresh New Hope

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Once a tiny babe held in our arms,

Now all grown up and so full of charms.

Graduation day is soon to be here,

A time for joy, celebration and cheer.

Fresh new hope for future endeavors

To be all you can and be oh so clever.

Fresh new hope for all of the dreamers,

But for now, let’s have parties with all of the streamers!

Stairway to Heal

Teresa-pink-rose-web In the still of the night, not a sound to be heard.

She lay in the bed like a frail little bird.

This was the night she would breath her last breath.

Her daughter by her side to hold her hand at her death.

The daughter’s love was so pure, like it was as a babe.

Now the girl wished and prayed that her mother could be saved.

But she knew God well and she knew it was mom’s time

For the end of her journey and her life was sublime.

The stairway to heaven must be paved with gold

The daughter believed this as she had been told.

A stairway filled with music and angels is what mother deserved.

The daughter thought of each moment and treasures preserved.

As mother took her last breath the daughter did weep

But tears of love and joy were those she did seek.

Time passed by and the daughter grew stronger.

Her stairway of grieving was a stairway no longer.

She met each new day with a smile on her face.

Her journey of healing at last had it’s own place.

It was a memory now, still painful and yet

She could find her joy in life again and the pain she could forget.

Home Again


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Small and frail, with withered skin,

Hair of shining white with silver strands.

She watched the small birds she fed each day

and knew each one by scientific name.

The woodland creatures surrounding her home,

never missed a meal as well.

For she always fed them, but now she was ill.

Who would take care of her friends?

She missed her home, her little house on the hill.

It’s bright blue door, the big picture window,

her favorite old chair and the sunny pale yellow curtains.

She wanted to go home, but they talked about a home.

A home for elderly folks.

They talked as if she wasn’t there anymore.

And she just wanted to go home, to her hill.

A Yellow Bear’s Tale

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Just like my Winnie the Pooh, which I still have. He was purchased when I was 4. He’s now 42 years old. I love him still.

I was once not real, just stuffed,just a toy.

I was played with and shabby, not now, no more.

My girl wished hard and played with me each day.

She loved me for years and even took me to the shore.

She laughed and splashed as I watched the foamy waves .

I sat on the towel while she played.

She twirled me and hugged me. She told me she love d me.

All day at the beach we stayed.

When the day was done, she carried me home.

She became very ill and was chilled.

Her skin was on fire, and I stayed there beside her.

My love for her was deep as the sea.

She slept  most of three days, and my vigil was to stay

With the little girl who loved me most in the world.

When she awoke, I was filled with glee, as any yellow bear would be

Suddenly a tear, I felt running down my cheek.

I was real from that day forward, a blessing from above,

All because my girl had a wish and great love.

 

Moment in Life

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The deed was done.

It was harder than she thought.

Breaking the news to her family was a complete disaster.

She would survive. She had survived worse before and would survive worse again.

She needed that break in her life if only for a moment, a moment in the grand scheme of life.

There would be other chances, other opportunities, other jobs, other offers.

Right now she needed a break from it all. A break from the disaster that seemed to be her moment in life.

 

Dinnertime

Please enjoy this poem I wrote on dinnertime.  It’s part of the daily prompt “dinnertime”.  Also, I’ve been challenged to do 3 quotes for 3 days.  Here is day one.  I decided to role them both into one!
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The table is set with pearly white plates and turquoise glasses.

Everything looks so grand.

Salad of fresh, spring greens and bright crimson tomatoes sit in the temptingly in the crystal, shimmering bowl.

Mom has prepared our favorite dish with love and delight she serves us.

Velvety mashed potatoes, buttery carrots and steak done on the grill.

She calls us all in, pours us our milk as we sit together at last.

“Who will say grace?” she asks as we each take another one’s hand.

With delight in our eyes and forks held high, we each pass mom our plates.

She serves us our grub. We thank her with love.

Then eat till our bellies are content.