Our lives seem flippant, short and free. We need some rules and if you find One that might work, slow down. Be kind. Don’t fight for every cause you see For some turn sour eventually. So stand up strong for what is right. Obediently praise the light, But fear that foul self-righteousness. Out back’s a bucket for such mess With soap to make your stained clothes bright.
Linked to Ronovan Writes Décima Poetry Challenge where the challenge is to use “kind” as a rhyme work in either line 2 or 3.
I knew it was a common bird That helped me build a nice display. I took the photo anyway. I wanted truth to match the word In fullness that was not absurd. It made no sound. It didn't sing. It might have sung of anything, But flew away. The sun will set. Before it does I want to get Prepared to be the gift I bring.
Linked to Ronovan Writes Décima Poetry Challenge where the challenge word is “bird”.
The cloudy image on the lake Comes from the gracious morning light We left the darkness of the night, Became aware of what’s at stake. We now renew, rejoice, remake, Reflect on what we know as true. Our part seems small, like morning dew, But later when the victory’s won We may find out it was well done And fully know and be known too.
Linked to Ronovan Writes Decima Poetry Challenge with the word “true” appearing as one of the rhyme words in the c stanza. The full pattern is abbaaccddc.
A steward cares for what he does Not own. And if we'd dare unwind The miracle, perhaps we’d find The sorry tale of who he was. He left that, who knows where, because The Spirit’s wind blew long ago. Why did it come? He does not know. He’s glad, more glad than anything That used to make him smile or sing - Across his life such breath would blow.
Linked to Ronovan Writes Décima Poetry Challenge. The prompt word is “wind” to be used as the rhyme in the second or third line of this ten-line poetic form having eight syllables per line and a rhyme pattern of abbaaccddc. I used it as “unwind” in the second line.
The change I’d face began to dawn Though hidden by dark cloudy seas, A flood with opportunities That I would miss when I moved on. They vanished when they saw I'd gone. Why did I leave them? I don’t know. I watched and waited, wanted so To make it right, at last renew, Have something in my hand that’s true, But in the end I let them go.
Poetry, Short Prose and Walking 