North wind, world wind ,and nothing ever still.
The child spines, the running water dropped from
her eyes, such sight in the open public square.
This wind, I see angels taking notes, but never
willing to do a thing. How patiently sitting as we blow
in the wind.
Moments passing, gone with the wind. The Sun rises,
and I knew heaven is smiling. what hope to cheer when
our world is spinning in the wind. Ha! someone is in control.
Wherever I go today, let it be
wherever you will.Whatever I do
today, let it what you will.
Whatever I say today, let it be to
whom you will. For where I go, what
I do, moreover what I say. All I ask is
to be a blessing to someone today.
A blessing I ask, blessing I pray.
Blessing to one near, or far, someone
cast down, just whatever be. If I fail to
be, then my life would cease to be. ALL
I ask, is to be a blessing to someone today.
By the window I stood, this rain drops, babbling,
knocking. Asking to let her in, as white cloud
dropped its load. Out there, blue, dark overtone,
Sun sitting there with bright smile an its face,
they all seem to playing the game together,
culture of the Cosmo, I knew it.
My head busing, the indescribable pulled me to
gaze, to fathom the unclothed coding formed an my
window. What a show,very much exciting, it’s creeping,
running, climbing an each other, splashing, fallen
quickly as it calculating the time. God! such rain drops.
Indescribable rain drops on my window, what a weight to
carry. Is she crying? but how can I know, useless the
unthinkable happen cause in consternation, altering the
mind. Rain drops an my window, its contour, God’s fingers
alternating the designed. What of the eyes to see, he mind
to fathom, enshrine hope in my heart, indescribable,
rain drops.
The long day ended, so did the evening,
rolling in speedily. The night entered, with
load of wet snow from Crescent sky. Fallen on
the Metropolitan, a city just about bedding
down to bed.
Should I join the night walker, entering
neighborhood tavern for a cold beer? My
rational out weigh the ads of nipping
cold. So out came I in clad coat. Down the
street, round the bend, closeted houses, then
a sign of no exit exposed itself.
Ha! but this silty, milt, not so chilly out
door feel of the night, calling so imposing.
Looking back, the claustrophobic place of my dwelling
was calling too. So I danced for the last time. In
the open somber winter night, I danced for the last
time, before entered back to my covet den.The last danced.
On am running , filling the palate with its grains.
Obstructing pain and this much I learn, in pouring rain.
For the heaven’s open up, and will me in.
It’s a race to the house, but I do not want to win.
Rain, rain deep in Country land, it’s a fair game.
This intruding is an awesome pleasure I swear.
Pouring rain, so much grains, a full load over
flowing pans, and what it takes. Weather of nights
or days, matter not, just the same old stories.
Doing what pleases me in pouring rain is a challenge
not fear, even an my birthday, pouring rain.
Winter, then came jelly Christmas without snow,
what a shame, such a jam an my state of mind.
Sticks standing begging to be cover in rob of
white, with the recalled of memories jogging.
Winter, then came jelly Christmas without snow.
Familiar face was not in Town,no poms no pride.
The place so paled looking, joys bells echoing,
but where! becomes a sudden cry, you certainly
would want to give your reaching hand.
Winter, then came jelly Christmas without snow.
Now that am fool by my dreams, perhaps I will
appreciate nature misgivings, allowing for other
to inter cherry space, warmth, from winter cold.
Still, I can dance till next time, till next time.
Where no one say a word, as if a hundred
sprint now in progress. This is it, and we
all must contemplate the possibilities of a
win, but on this field we await the doctors reply.
Waiting room, it’s a hard place, is it not?.
Faith colliding in alien time zone, digital
moments, everything mushrooming in our mind.
The ground where trust inevitable deciding,
the things that need be Cristal clear.
The waiting room, on we must view everything.
The trays are gone, the converter still, the
child asleep, other grasping for flesh breath.
Who knows, the passage, a silence throne, a
cheering crowed, one just never knows till
the nurse or doctor comes to say. For there
lies the good, the bad, the ugly, the indifferent and call it a day.
It may be so, but faith must abide all the way, the waiting room.
Very interesting.
Winter, we been told that you would be prolonging your stay with us, taking center stage in our lives till March ending. Is that so? ah what a ball, the tales getting sweeter.
We are in no pretenses, and like me, am not presumptuous to act in any way that will cause you emotional rumbling. Ci-vie
disobedience is not desirable,we just need to get through this.
This is not the first time. now is the anniversary, a celebrated festivity, for our diversity. I stood sometimes, watched, and marvel, as you moved upon an our collective Psychic
Winter, you are just golden, I meant it, just golden, specially as the night shadows fall, and snow roiling , playing gymnastic games, the sweetness forcefully telling, am in lover’s lane despite your mean spirited self sometime. Let it be known, you are just golden.
Cold chill to the bone, rumble in the head, then whispering
sound, tales of how winter presses hard with sudden
crushing pain. What a chill, in for the kill, the
relieves, none can, and none will.
I dearth the days, fear the nights, starry skies such
busyness of spirit to find warmth, dearest friend
wonder by, acting as if mourning will never past.
Cold chill, blood and bone, garish all the winter wears.
pat down with us crying tries. For the love of
country , yes! but must the cold chill suck, to
the bone, I suppose that is what winter is make of, what
do you have to say about that?
It is life itself. Thanks Otrazhenie for sharing.
“The language of friendship is not words but meanings.”
Henry David Thoreau
From Kindness Blog
THE END
How last am I under canopy eyes, a dotted spot below,
when looking from Cosmo high. Here we are, over six
billions of us on planetary ground, grooving in,
grooving out, on trying desperately to survive.
How last am I under canopy eyes, sometime I think you
are a spy. On because of your technological supremacy,
opposing as its limitation, and the true is. I yearn
for those colorful graphic wonders above, not this
breathless, aimless heaven, hanging over my unrepentant
soul.
How last am I under canopy eyes, dulling my laughter
and fun, but soon the beauty of your amiable self, the
artistic pleasantry always delights, bringing my
dis-pear to joy, that said, I knew we are friends. The
cloudless sky.
With sweetness to heaven’s ears. Plead from the souls
below, up over rocky mountainous slop. The father’s
chamber swan open, falling grace swept the floors
here on earth, causing jetting laughter, and smile.
Thanks for your prayers, we could not have done it
without you. They delighted the space wherein we
spurted, stretching from head to toes. What a place
when the way get blowy, and darkness set in.
Thanks for your prayers, it greeted the lonely
moments with cheers. Your care was felt on the dot
24/7,lighten dark hours, gratitude with attitude
extrude, then life speaks in tone that awaken the dead.
Thanks for your prayers, we can only repay by saying,
thank you. It is not a mistake, thank you from all of
us, the recipient of your benevolence, thank you.
From 
The Journey of a poet 