Why does knowledge feed me so?
Its wispy wings surround me.
I feel the rhythm in its words,
their meanings and depth, they chide me.
Words within words, phrase within phrase
look and you will find, thee.
I search the winds of information around me,
and cheer when their meanings appear to me.
When knowledge is what I do not seek,
darkness tends to follow.
For it is the light of knowledge that guides my way,
its search for which then sates me.
True knowledge, I will never find
as long as heartbeats bind me.
Until they cease, I hope to feel
those wispy wings about me.
So knowledge, you I hope to seek
till death or dementia define me.
Just want to say Hay,
‘Cause today is your birfday.
Apparently a woman named Carol,
Had something to do with this day.
She had a kid,
Yes she certainly did,
And it turns out that kid,
Was especially spendid.
The kid is a runner,
and certainly a stunner.
She gives her time,
To those without a dime.
And when it comes to yogurt,
It’s Yogurt Company, please, froyo.
And if it’s time for food?
For Whiteway, she’s ALWAYS in the mood.
So on this special day,
After I’ve already said Hay,
I also wanted to say,
HAPPY 31st BIRTHDAY!
The pounding of ground is muted only by the clamouring of colliding sticks. Feet intermix in a chaotic exchange. One is standing, alone in an archway except for her, the arch is painted on the grass. Approaching shirts sway in the cool dry breeze. Shouts of “shoot!” penetrate the warm spring air. Without a cloud in the sky, she shoots and scores! And back to midfield they go again. Some dejected, some elated. But all is right with the world in this moment. And I pray those cheering their kids also remember this.
Title shamelessly stolen from Peter Gabriel. 🙂
In your eyes there is sadness,
and I want to wash it away.
In your eyes there is kindness,
the likes of which the world rejoices.
In your eyes there is confusion,
and I want to comfort you.
In your eyes there is passion,
and I want to kiss you today.
Your eyes are open to the world,
and I yearn for you each day.
Inspired by my mini-roses, blooming beautifully and a friend.
If I were a rose, what color would I be?
Red is for love – we all know love.
White for purity, innocence and beginnings.
Purple for love at first sight, but what if we can’t see?
Blue is desirable, but unattainable,
Blue being a color nature doesn’t hue.
But what about black? Well – I like black.
Black stands for death – oh, I take it back.
Then what about me? What color should I be?
None could be so lovely as peach,
Which stands for modesty, within reach.
Peach – that’s what I’ll be.
Till black comes for me.
Bolts of lightning are dancing a beautiful dangerous dance from cloud to cloud, exposing for a moment their parental cloud’s inner density, then extinguished forever, its life expended in a flash of brilliance. Then, FLASH! A neighboring cloud roars to life. “I remember thee, brother. I hope my light reminds them of your greatness”.
Written on the way into Jacksonville as an incredible lightning storm raged nearby.
The sun is rising, determined to spread its mighty glow across the dark heavens. At first it was a low glow in the east, waking the Atlantic waves, but now it spreads its fiery glow in a dramatic line across the horizon with shades and hues of red, orange and yellow. Soon its orb, elongated by the curve of our planet, will rise and be mighty. As it continues its ascention, its shape becomes more distinct, its colors less emotional, instead content with its job now- not to awaken and motivate, but light our lives and remind us that there is so much so much more powerful than we.