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- Lynn Long
- Angelica Grace Lee Resident Poet
- Sunset by Jerry Holland and Sony Holland
Tuesday, September 18, 2018
Friday, September 14, 2018
Freedom and Cobwebs
Freedom is where
In the empty spaces
Streets are poised
To take fights
Freedom is that corner
Of the mind which has cobwebs
In spite of being in plain sight
And they don't clean it up
Or rinse it
With all their might
Thursday, September 13, 2018
Wednesday, September 12, 2018
Tuesday, September 11, 2018
Monday, September 10, 2018
Morning light reveals
silhouettes of branches
against a dove grey sky.
Hurry, pick gardens of bright
vegetables. Time to cook
big pots of soup, yeasty breads.
Wearing red, orange,
yellow leaves, trees
sashaying in the wind.
Countless shades of leaves,
shapes of leaves,
sounds of leaves.
Children come from school
jumping in piles of foliage
shouting with delight.
Flying carpets of sugar maple
leaves unfurl along our road
as frost draws closer.
Amazing how many stars
fit inside my windowpane
alongside a harvest moon.
Monday, September 3, 2018
Song of September
My pumpkin smiles to the Song of September.
This is the sky that falls over us
the small injuries of daylight slip away,
our breath settling into karma and pause.
Inside the kitchen, the fresh smells of pandesal,
steaming black tea with a taste of cinnamon,
a platter of kamote, prawns, and sea cucumber.
Everywhere the shouts of hello, mabuting kaibigan,
mabuhay and soft gabi, magandang gabi,
soft night, good evening, welcome home.
In the morning the air almost turquoise,
cloud cover a myriad of streams entering a river,
sunlight in the distance, sunlight behind walls.
Day begins with irritations and inflections,
a quietude and a symphony of cymbals,
a cacophony of doors, voices, the clatter of plates.
Longganisa, milkfish belly, and hot tsokolate
thin enough to inhale, and then the sun yellows,
a car arrives, another day with people we never knew
Sunday, September 2, 2018
Only a Dream
Lynn Long- https://zolanymph1.blogspot.com/
Poet, writer, aspiring novelist, daydreamer and believer in the impossible
Contributing artist @hitRECord.org and Scriggler.com
Published in the following Ezines, Publications and Online Journals:
In Between Hangovers
Poetry Poetics Pleasure
Tuesday, August 28, 2018
Thursday, August 16, 2018
By Desiree Cady
That you will be just fine
They never, ever question
You never show a sign
They say that you're a fighter
And that you are so strong
Yet deep inside you know
That they couldn't be more wrong
And then one day it happens
Your soul, it finally breaks
And everybody thinks
It must be some mistake
She's just having a bad day
What they dont understand
Is her pain, it doesn't ever pause
She reaches out to everyone
Hands out such great advice
But what happens when she's on her own
When she's not feeling so nice
She looks around in question
Wonders where the hell they are?
Those friends who said they'd be there
No matter how near or far
So she tells herself she'll be okay
She's going to be just fine
She wipes away her tears and smiles
Faking, she never shows a sign
Tuesday, August 14, 2018
Listen To The Quiet
The hush of falling snow
the breath of stormy seas
bIrds frolicking on the meadow
forest parade of gallant trees.
Honeysuckly sweet on the vine
hummingbirds morning call
with nectar a rose blush wine
from Spring, through Summer and Fall.
A windward breeze blows East
the sun slumbers on the West
the day is done, now rest.
The night devoid of sunlight
caress the moon and stars
at dusk fluorescent twilight
guide seafarers from afar.
Listen to the quiet
hear the silent peace
whisper in the moment
our spirit to be set free.
As I trudge through snow laiden foothills
icy wind whipping my face
biting cold surrounds me
and the sun emerges with haste.
My journey carries me forward
over lifeless branches and leaves
toward the snow capped high sierras
home, to God’s country.
I can see in the distance
the canvas for my creation
my dream springs to life
only in my imagination.
In the future I see a clearing
a cozy and quaint log cabin
nestled among icy fir trees
a small yet real slice of heaven.
Flickering candlelight shines through the window
as I draw near my hearth and home
puffs of smoke circle the chimney
my senses tell me, I am no longer alone.
A now frozen brook
rests silently alongside the dwelling
in Spring, a wading pool of ease
as the snow slowly begins melting.
Though depicting a Christmas tale
this portrait of a Winter scene
merely paints my path to the future
of what, someday will be.
Joanne Olivieri Website
Monday, August 13, 2018
Prince Of Peace
The dove of peace unfolds his wings.
angel hair entwines heartstrings.
As spirits chant, a minstrel sings,
the choral melody of kings.
Due North a star, lights the way
To Prince of Peace, where He lay.
A Savior born on Christmas day.
On thy lips, fruit of the vine
shall evoke a taste of shame
Martyred bloodshed cup of wine
invisible in His name.
Thy wrath befell upon the sight
Of devils chance to winged flight
Lion and lamb, lie down with thee.
A Need To Pray
As we awake to the echo of dawn
with a silent reflection of day,
our hearts and souls are renewed
as we thank God by our need to pray.
A need that is fueled by hope
and a faith which is never betrayed,
by God who delivers the saving rope
as we climb the mount of temptation each day.
If we misstep and lose our balance
and begin to go astray
our Lord will provide spiritual guidance,
when we fall to our knees and pray.
His light rekindles day to day
and sparks His image as we pray.
Beyond the jagged etched twilight
a moonlit gloss projects His light.
A piercing glow injects our veins
with Holy serum spread as rain.
He filters through our heart and soul
providing strength to make us whole.
His spark rekindles as we pray
and lights his image day to day.
Mary Our Mother
Clothed in sunlight, crowned with stars
show us your mercy from afar.
Infinite wisdom, divine grace
the lamb of God endears your face.
Fruit of your womb, a virgin snow
your tears of love will help us grow.
Mary, dear Mother, queen of May
dwell in our hearts, let us not stray.
Voice of the angels
uplift my spirit
protect my soul
from all woe.
soothe my soul
Are you my angel?
Who guides my soul
who feels my heart
who drinks my thoughts
who soothes my mind
Are you my angel?
Together in time.
My Gifts For You
The greatest of God’s gifts
I can wish for you
are taken for granted by many
though for me, hold precious and true.
A canary softly chirping
A mandolin strumming in rhyme
A rose gently unfolding
An infant, smiling for the first time.
The sun slowly setting
The moon waking to rise
The sea’s waves calming
The drifting winds chime
Trees melodically swaying
Mountains, to the heavens they climb
These are my gifts for you,
With love, dear friend of mine.
When the waves of the sea lie still
and the sea bird's cry is mute
and the sunlight is buried in darkness
with the balance of life in dispute…
I know that grief has encompassed
and begun to drown my soul
emerging in cascades of pain
drowning what once was whole.
I know as I ask my savior
for His help in lighting my way
my God will become my lighthouse
and chart the path to ease my pain.
An angel softly wept
as showers cleansed the earth,
while we peacefully slept
planted seeds of new birth.
A spiritual cleansing of sorts
shedding a mask grown old,
unburdened without remorse
new beginnings yet to unfold.
A luminous rainbow awakens
lending color to our skies,
a protective stained glass garment
Heaven shields the angels cries.
A gift for the soul
as warmth from the sun
caress and beholds
our spirits as one.
Seeds of the future
enriched by our care
and love, we will share
Harvests to flourish
the fruits of this earth
by God, and His works.
Weapon of Faith
His scepter, a sword in divine attire
Pierces the serpent, with tongues of fire.
He fans the flames of Satan’s desire
As a weapon of faith, for spiritual hire.
The Northern Gate
A child is born into the night
unto the womb of heaven’s light.
His journey plants a seed of peace
as sacrificial lamb to fleece.
His shoulders bear a cross of blood
as tears of sin unleash the flood.
Thine eyes behold the Northern gate
and see the stars prophetic fate.
Forsaken not, by Father’s hand
His death, doth scar a shallow land.
He rose above, upon third day
sight unseen to light the way.
His death became the gift of life
to free the soul, of endless strife.
Thine eyes behold the Northern gate
and see the stars prophetic fate.
These works have been previously published in various print magazines to include Explorer, Lamp Post, Adoration, Miraculous Medal and many more…..