O thou pure of heart

No sin was committed
In the garden of Eden
What was pure
And natural
Was forever cursed
Banished from the garden
Carrying the blame of lust
O thou pure of heart
How thee lusted
In thy heart
For the forbidden fruit
And blamed the serpent
Letting God go scott free
One who created all
Must have created
Love and passion
And lust
The day
Darkness of our hearts
Clouded the sunshine
Of our minds
World became a
Dreary place to live
In our fear blemished life
We all have pains
that we carry unseen
Passing time
Fading memories
Lessen heartaches not
Blessed are those
With life a clean slate
Unburdened by the curse
They carry their secrets to
Their graves
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We are here now

We are here now

Does not matter

How we got here

We dug the hole

Where we find us

We must find a way

To crawl up the wall

Sunlight waits yonder

Blame destiny if we

Want to lament fate

If we feel powerless

Then make peace

With the frog

In the hole we dug

And find your music

As it croaks

Dance to the cacophony

Or else if needed

Stand on each other’s shoulder

And crawl up

Pull up the others

Beneath you

There is great strength in number

Don’t let it go to waste

We are here now

Darkness

We will have to

Find our way out and

Light the candle

Let truth shine

Sage Advice:RonovanWrites Weekly Haiku Poetry Prompt Challenge # 235 Sage & Vine

This post is in response to Ronovan’s Weekly Haiku Challenge .

 

The sage meditates
Up in the Himalayas
Well covered in vines

A good sage advice
As heard through the grapevines
Lost in translation

So now sage and wise
We trim parasitic vines
Resplendent sage bush

 

It’s Friday and What to Fry

It’s Friday

And I am thinking

What’s to fry

Fried eggs

Enough of that

Also my supply of eggs

Running dry

It’s time for something

New to try

French fries

That’s old

A trip to Micky D

In this freezing cold

Not going to fly

Decisions, decisions

Need some conclusion soon

Before my rumbling tummy

Starts to cry

Think for now

Will stick to tested

Old recipe

Of toast and eggs

And give all thoughts

Of what to fry

A bye bye

Before my brain

Is completely fried

PS. I will not slam the table as I walk out of the bed room, I promise😂



Final product: egg white omelet with onion, kale, mushroom,tomato and avocado

Forty-Five~by rldubour

” ” a poetic description of the current POTUS” by a writer with a penchant for story telling of American history through his gifted poems.

OUR POETRY CORNER

Forty-Five

Image result for white house out of work

Who is this guy they call forty-five?

He can’t be trusted just always lies!

He suspected of treason he can’t deny

Brainless idiot he runs and hide.

He attacks Americans and the media

Ignorant in mind about an encyclopedia

Racism and Sexism he thinks he’s great

Divides Americans and the human race.

His Grandpa was a pimp and tax evader

Claims at our border is all invaders.

His father was a member of the KKK

He screwed his brother as he went his way.

Surrounded by his rich friends

His greed and ignorance does not end

Everyday there is something new

The United States he is out to screw.

The world leaders think he is just a clown

It’s money he wants but he’s going to drown.

The American people are smartening up

Will take years for his mess to cleanup

Look at him people there is no mystery

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Ghazal to Bob, in the Night

Excellent tribute to Robert Okaji’s Ghazal to the night with another ghazal from the talented writer.

Prairiepomes

It’s a new year, but I haven’t changed. I cannot resist responding to awesome poetry. I do hope Mr. Okaji will forgive me taking his name in this vein…

Anchors aweigh, we settle lower in the water
every year we are blessed to yet bob in the night.

Pockets emptied, we cast vestments to slaughter
turn off laundry room light, let them bob in the night.

Emails disappearing, this century’s unvouched for alibi
electronic dog runs away, to chew, bark, bob in the night.

Neither owl nor island, fresh thoughts loom in memory’s murk
half-drowned in self-reflection, they bob in the night.

Your bones, oh smoky altar, are consumed like breath
like breath, their essence left to float, and bob in the night.

This river, carried by the sun, carries a boat carved with runes
these are Anna’s words, waterline eyes that bob in the night.

Ghazal to the Night

by 

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