#255
Easing into the
currents of the river
of life. Toes break
the surface, in and
out of Sun rays that
snake through branches
and leaves, blinding
between glimpses
of a robin blue sky,
dolloped with cotton clouds.
A gentle,
knowing pull. Slow,
sporadic chirps and
whistles push the breeze.
The Sun is somewhere, close,
hiding behind the trees,
and i am making my way,
chasing, a lethargic west.
#256
If ever a moment made
with a brush stroke,
a soul sketch, be sure
to paint the page with
kind words, with soft hearts. i
hope my beating one knows,
that i’ll take myself out dancing,
i’ll race me back home in
laughing contest. i’ll remember
to make time for sunsets, and
remind myself that it’s ok
to follow them, so long as
it’s your own rule.
#257
Listen up little children
hear the crow as he caws.
Do you see the deer a dancing?
Amongst the trees across the road?
Soon the daytime will finish,
there will be no more play
under that big bright Sun.
The evening comes on now hither,
guided with the warmth of pages, and candles,
beside mum. Listen quiet
to all the slow stories.
They weren’t all written for joy, for fun,
listen up little children,
before the end of your day is done.
#258
On a sacred day
no less, cold,
heavy, sweeping exhaustion,
disappointment, throbbing separation
anxiety. It wasn’t supposed
to go this way, i followed
my numbers, recited the
script, and now, just waiting,
waiting for whatever these
frustrating winded fates figure out
is in store next.
#259
Old fashioned adult merriment
sitting around the table
mouths filled with laughter
and exotic savoury spices.
They comment on the music.
They speak of state of the word
and their minds.
The recipe is so simple.
A table, a dish, friends.
Thanks for joining! Find poems through out the week on my instagram @monsieurwrite
Don’t forget to check out the poems being recited on The Write Stuff podcast!
Take care, call your family, tell them you love them.
wazoo!
-Mr. Write