VERSES
anyone can write; am i a poet? you decide
Thursday, May 9, 2024
1173
Tuesday, May 7, 2024
1172
This Chair
This chair stood among the clouds,
Surreal and empty, tired from wandering;
You would think it didn't belong,
But it certainly did;
For what are spaces for,
If not to delete a void.
Every footstep in life to pilgrimage
The emptiness, the aloofness;
A chair without a table, resting now,
A chair without a sitter;
One wonders how not why,
How did it get here among clouds
Cumulus in thought,
Puffy with intent,
Alone and surreal.
Every footstep in life to pilgrimage
Perhaps the sitter fell off,
Like Jack fleeing a giant,
Grasping a beanstalk,
Or maybe there was no sitter;
Only a chair among clouds,
Just the way the dreamer crafted.
Every footstep in life to pilgrimage
This Chair © gillena cox 2024
Friday, May 3, 2024
1171
On The Windowsill
All the banging so much noise,
What are we building of toil?
Is butter softer than the heart of love?
Can sugar sweeten already made honey?
When bees toil,
Is the buzz noisy?
A box of dreams sits on the windowsill
All this noise the banging never stops,
The blood of innocents cling to greed;
The soil and sea cry out do you hear,
Through all the banging?
Useless or wasteful still noise;
Drowning out real beauty real joy,
Loudest is the stressed-out heart,
The fake meanderings of toil.
A box of dreams sits on the windowsill
It is that time of beginnings,
The whistles and songs of birds
Sound out of transitioning,
A sky inky will streak of silver,
Then turn to pale azure,
Gilt with sunlight.
A box of dreams sits on the windowsill
On The Windowsill - A Bop poem © gillena cox 2024
Tuesday, April 30, 2024
1170
Who Am I
I am, whom the wind caresses
At dawn, while the birds whistle,
Flying in pairs or groups,
While i stand at the window
Of my door, alone, watching.
At dawn, while the birds whistle,
Silently i offer oration,
To a God seen and unseen,
I have only to gasp;
At a new bud opened.
Silently i offer oration,
For this to my mind, is
Visible presence from,
An invisible watching presence.
I am, whom the wind caresses.
Who Am I © gillena cox 2024
Monday, April 29, 2024
1169
Quadrille Blaze
She dreamed of a life of adventure,
Climbing mountains, sky diving,
And such like;
If only she was born into a rich
Family she sighed,
Surely she could venture
Into unknown territory,
And be the trailblazer;
Super smart outgoing innovator,
What a poor thought!
© gillena cox 2024Tuesday, April 23, 2024
1168
Monday, April 22, 2024
1167
Earth We
Technology rewards us with conversations and closeness. We share like and subscribe. We zoom, link up and link in.
little square boxes
of people chatting online -
a live meeting
But what about our natural environment. The destruction is overwhelming. Building crumble like the tossed paper balls of am irate writer. Machine guns and tankers deface the landscape. Where are the trees? The earth cries as blood is spilt.
TV screen shots -
the anguish of a mother
as her child goes limp
The fishes in the sea; who cares about them as trash finds its way from rivers and streams to its depths annoying sea animal and plant life. Fishes must be crying too.
feet along the sand
plastic bottle clean up -
here's a garbage bag
© gillena cox 2024