Bountiful Blossoms Blooming

Where bumble bees sing to morning blooms,
sunshine fills sleepy rooms.
Little birds chirp to ring in the day.
The town folk thrive and children play.
~
Evening’s all spent cozy and warm;
everyone huddles at word of a storm.
With a common goal of tranquility,
their smiles all share the harmony.
~
Freedom reigns and peace assured,
caring for all, we’re all adored.
And though this place is yet to be found,
in dreams we meet when feet leave the ground.

~*~
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Webs in the Attic

I sit at the kitchen table waiting for thoughts to come.
So far none’s forthcoming; I’m hoping there’ll be some.
Time is quickly passing as I stare off into space.
If wasting time were a sport I know I’d win the race.
~
But words don’t run on tracks and thoughts know no time.
But if patience is a virtue then waiting is no crime.
Procrastination is a different thing, results will find away.
It’s a choice that we make to give away our say.
~
Yesterdays’ may be gone but our actions will remain.
Mistakes made along the way will leave a lasting stain.
We wake each day to change, thinking everything’s the same.
But time moves only forward and tomorrows’ we cannot tame.
~
We’ll take our deepest breath and dive in head first.
We try to make the biggest splash to satisfy our thirst.
The volumes fill up fast, their content is our own.
The good we see in others reflects on how we’ve grown.
~
The time is getting late and I’m fading fast.
Why must the future wait while sleeping off the past?
So I’ll wait another day for something new to write.
The winter blues are passing and mornings looking bright.
~
Optimism’s on the rise though heights often chill.
Pessimism is an easy fall but the bottom is no thrill.
Windows will soon be open and fresh starts will appear.
And those webs in the attic just need the spring to clear.

~*~
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Reaching

Yesterday’s thoughts written today,
is tomorrow’s poem on display.
Feelings recorded and colors felt,
the past is gone and hand’s dealt.
~
So I sit with a pad and pen,
soon I’ll write but I know not when.
Will it be happy or a little bit sad?
It may not be good but something’s not bad.
~
My heart beats and music is heard,
the world’s often dark and time’s blurred.
Life and art blend together as one,
eyes open the bleedings begun.
~
The flow consumes and words appear,
for now scattered but without fear.
Steps taken are sure to teach,
that love abounds at arm’s reach.

~*~
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Adds Up

The more we’re together the less the world’s a part.
Our passion’s indulged with music, poetry and art.
In a time of violence and of greed,
the love of each other’s all we need.
~
With arms meant to reach and to hold,
the wonder of love’s boldly told.
Lives intertwined becoming one,
endless adventures have begun.
~
With zest, zeal and sex appeal;
smiles always shared, always real.
Equal devotion adding to the feel,
all’s mutually beneficial, the deal ideal

~*~
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