Keeping current in wellness, in and out of the water
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You can scroll the shelf using ← and → keys
Inventive little creatures stumble across the picnic lawn
Dancing with the birthday cake we worked on since the dawn
The ants and caterpillars enjoy the sugar roses, icing sweet
They scamper merrily down the path with butter on their feet
They have made a regular sport out of devouring our repast
Nature knows no bounds when people picnic on the grass
We can think ourselves lucky for feeding the cake to the ants
Now we will all have a better chance of fitting into our pants
Hot, restless winds blow across the desert
The fruit and flowers of the garden have disappeared
The future hangs heavy on the horizon, void of course
Drought followed by famine and fear have decimated
The crops we have always grown to sustain ourselves
Now we eat cactus to survive, knowing it is a gift
The bright colored blooms delight our hearts and spirits
Promising fruit that will keep the community alive for a while
If we are not here to bargain, bully, and descend a long path
What kind of interior purpose can possibly be served by wrath?
Disconnected, left spinning in whirlwinds of violence and grief
This chaotic background story has stolen peace like a thief
Our time is corrupted, our spaces are polluted by flowing greed
Where can we look for the insight and harmony we all need?
Beneath the sea of glass the tidal forces pull
Strange debris left behind at the beach out to sea
The tangled mass of garbage wraps itself around
Coral reefs and living creatures without mercy
Our casual mindless set of values is strangling
The life from the ocean and the beauty from the shore
Join Poets from around the world each day in April to read, write, and recite poetry. Find new poets here. Submit your own work for fun. Enjoy!
Time passes quickly as the words fly through my mind
Fits and starts of creative linguistic crap is what I find
Will I become a poet in the future when I no longer care?
Or will my visions continue to languish about in the air?
Nobody knows, certainly not me
Join poets from around the globe for National Poetry Writing Month. Read, write, and contribute here all month.
Wilderness holds secrets known only to the creatures who inhabit the place
Our visiting feet pass by too quickly to feel the rhythm underground
We keep the earbuds on and miss the harmonic symphony of nature’s sound
Our vision is impaired by limits we accepted without thinking for ourselves
After this picnic comes and goes this will always belong to fairies and elves
To find our place in this puzzle we must look at the world we think we rule
With respect for all sentient beings, every wizard, clown, teacher, and fool
This is a response to Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, and it is also the 5th day of #NaPoWriMo2018. This post is killing two poetry birds with one stone. Enjoy the other writers who create responses to this photo on Sue’s Echo. Read, write, and comment on the poets by following the hashtag #NaPoWriMo. It is all poetry all the time in April!! Enjoy!
What do you think you learned studying our family history?
Have you reached conclusions about the nature of human existence?
I believe the most pertinent thing I have learned is about delusion
We stay in deep canyons of ignorance in groups habitually
Are you saying we are all ignorant, or that you are so enlightened?
Not at all, dear ancestors, for my own generation I am frightened
Have you seen how the people are destroying Mother Earth?
You should know that this battle began in earlier centuries
That you choose what role you play by the company you keep
All your relations continue to speak directly to your soul’s mysteries
This is day 2 of National Poetry Writing Month. Join the fun all over the internet by following the hashtag #NaPoWriMo2018. Meet poets from around the world and submit your own work here. Let yourself bust a rhyme. Now is the time!!
Placing emphasis on the response we linger over words
That will pass over the heads and minds of others
The spark of imagination was kindled by the firebird
The same mythical phoenix that spoke to our mothers
Our native tongue has been twisted, distorted by lies
It is up to us to bring back the language of the skies
This is the first day of National Poetry Writing Month. I write 30 poems in 30 days each April to honor my famous ancestor poets. Join the fun with poets from all over the world here. Read, write, rap, and have some fun with words this month!!!
Rolling hills in memory’s vault of treasure
Go on forever, leading to paths of pleasure
That end on the shores of the deepest sea
Surrounded by deserts without a single tree
The wasteland is dark with shadows of dread
No fauna, no flora, are found as we are lead
Closer to the truth , to the peace of the dead
This dark little poem was written in response to this week’s photo prompt in Sue Vincent’s Echo. Join us every Thursday for a new photo to inspire prose, poetry, or reading pleasure. It is fun to see all the different responses.