Goodnight little ones
Lay down in your beds
We’ll sprinkle some dream dust
Under your heads
Shake it over your pillows
And under your cover
Sink into sleep
A new world to discover
While the moon shines
Sleep and dream on
Wait till the dream dust
Wears off at dawn
Are you the scribe who listened?
Are you My cousin, John?
Are you the following Peter?
Are you the weaver of the crown?
Are you the reconciled sinner?
Are you Joseph with faithful heart?
Are you Simon of Sirene?
Are you the weeping woman on my route?
Are you Judas the betrayer?
Are you the Girl with her yes?
Are you the persecutor?
Are you the woman at the well?
Are you the grateful leper?
Are you Zacceus in the tree?
Are you the doubting Thomas?
Are you the jealous pharisee?
It was night and very dark. A crude candle was lit by Mara as she prepared to perform rituals to get rid of the scar on her master’s face.
Hadrian sat on his throne. “How did that girl get away?”
“I don’t know,” Mara said.
“Did I ask you?!” Hadrian roared.
Mara started the rituals, chanting strange words from the ancient Galandrian language.
1. (This one I gave and dedicated to my beloved music teacher)
What is a poem?
Dancing melody
Unsung
Sweeping harmony
Without music
Saying prose
As if it were song
This is a poem
2.
Words set to meter
Words set to rhyme
Something repeated
At least one time
3.
What is a poem?
A poem is a feeling
A poem is a thought
A poem is inexplicability
Put into words
4. (Inspired by a friend called Renee's definition)
Normal 0 These are names from a book I’m writing, but I need help with the name!!! It’s about a dragon named Sly who (despite his utter insanity) is the only dragon who can help a clan of dragons called, Barlin, defeat Gaylord Balthazar from taking over the third largest kingdom in the known world, Zarrattay. Also, along the way, they discover a deeper evil, heartless, a dragon with a dark plan to ruthlessly destroy all the humans in the world, but, in order to do this he needs something, but what?
Dreams are filled
With flying wing
Colors dance
With thee I sing
Flowers stars
And hopeful ways
Slipping through
Hopeful days
And if you truly
Can believe
I will sing to you
My dream
I am thinking in poetry today,
little lines sifting through
the space in my mind
trickling down to fingers
and lips, carried out on
the air, blinking on screens
looking out the window
at the falling rain
sparks a train of poetry
that winds its way
across the screen
finding a home scented
with apricot pie
My sisters in the garden;
her fine hair spreading wider, she
opens up her face to me
Shy little thing.
My brothers in the fields,
their bodies stretching higher,
reaching reaching touch the sun
So quick to claim the hour.
Long day. Had a 2-hour drive to Pittsburgh to deliver flowers for a wedding. On the way there, we were front-ended in the MacDonald's drive-thru by a sports utility vehicle. Got to the wedding just in time to pin the boutineers on the groomsmen before they went down the aisle. Then I managed a little brother with a serious case of car-fever all the way home.