Flight Lesson

With the first bird’s tweet before sunrise,
an eager young fairy opened her eyes.
Impatient she was to explore a new day,
to discover new things, have fun and play.
~
Silently venturing from the hollow of her tree,
she took the leap to be fluttering free.
She soared through the dark above the treetops,
seeing first the sun shine on morning bunny hops.
~
Reaching new heights she dove for the green.
There twists and turns through branch barely seen.
She then came to a stop with forest floor near,
where she sat on a twig spying something unclear.
~
The rays of dawn peaked betwixt shadowed leaf.
A lone beam shone on a nest, wove beyond belief.
‘Twas silken hung with shimmers and wiggles.
Soon out pops a butterfly to bright eyes and giggles.
~
The pair swiftly flew off, with each a new friend.
Their flight of fancy they hoped without end.
The forest was waking from the dark of night.
Ferns were unfurling to welcome the light.
~
Morning blossoms’ blooming’s a colorful treat.
Dew drop reflections fragrantly sweet.
The bumble bee’s buzz in search they roam.
Lady bugs lingering wished to be home.
~
Crickets stopped chirping, they’re done for the day.
The squirrels and chipmunks have come out to play.
Frolicking freely time quickly passed by.
Their world growing smaller the higher they fly.
~
Sensing the danger circling above,
the butterfly thought a game the fairy would love.
For his instinct foretold both could be caught.
All else he knew his new friend had taught.
~
He said “wait down below, I’ll hide and you seek”.
“But count to a thousand before you peek.”
The adventurous fairy dove quick for the wood.
The brave butterfly flew higher than he should.
~
Counting’s completed, now’s time to discover.
She opened her eyes while humming birds hover.
She asked of them if a butterfly was seen,
one with big wings of red, yellow and green.
~
The little birds knew not of his hiding place.
Sadness now shaded the young fairy’s face.
She searched high and low, both left and right.
Her sight’s now shrinking in falling sunlight.
~
Shadows grow longer with the moon’s turn to rise
A blanket of stars soon covered sleepy eyes.
A quiet night passing, she dreamt of her tree.
And the nightmare had, unprepared to be free.
~
Awakening again to a song she knew well.
Birds summon the sun as the pale moon fell.
The fairy sat patient on a stump by a stream.
Butterfly! Oh butterfly she did loudly scream.
~
The butterfly didn’t hear her mournful cry,
though the echo heard through valley and sky.
Her parents welcomed their lost child’s voice.
Soon by her side they all did rejoice.
~
The young fairy’s joy soon returned to tears.
She spoke of the butterfly and of her fears.
Her parents assured her he had lost his way.
But he’d surely return somehow, someday.
~
The family raced back to their cozy little home.
A place shared with others in an old honey comb.
The fairy now happily awaits her old friends return.
And keeping friends close is what she did learn.

~*~
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Seasonal Burps

~

April’s in with a wash, May’s out with a bloom.

June’s always good, July ends too soon.

August is hot, a time for the beach.

September’s when summer’s furthest from reach.

October refreshes with crispness and hue.

November we’re thanked for so much to do.

December’s for holidays when winter’s still bright.

January is mostly a long frozen night.

February’s short yet seems without end,

it’s the month of love and a shadowy friend.

Then time for the lion to come marching in –

for a spring outing with lambs and a grin.

~*~

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In a Flash

The wait is long, the reward sublime.
In search I am for the perfect time.
My heart is beating and lungs are full.
My mind is racing, I feel the pull.
~
I’m tired but wired, I can’t sleep a wink.
I think I’m unsure of whatever I think.
Thoughts of the past reflect on the now.
Tomorrow’s soon and the why, what and how.
~
I sat and I pondered; what am I to do?
A question confounded by where, when and who.
Then in an instant the answer was clear.
A fool am I, the time now is here.

~*~
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Morning Triku #65 – Beauty

 

Artful Sight

Colors the world bright

Sunrise, sunset, dark of night

Paint box filled with light

 ~

Night Rhythms

Notes strewn, candles fade

Laughter ebbs, whispers consume

Heartbeats set the tone

 ~

Fine Line

Lustful sheets beckon

Bodies tingle, lips moisten

Blood boils – time to write!

 ~*~

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Posthumous Futures

~

To all the writers never known
To the few from which we’ve grown
From their words the future’s sown
Rearranged to call our own

~

To all of those that do it now
From palette pure to graven brow
Investing all we dare allow
Divesting that we can’t avow

~

Time records in poem and prose
Imagined journeys no one knows
From euphoric highs to deadly lows
The tide of emotion forever flows

~

Looking back at history
Or hypothesizing infinity
Sensations felt we can’t see
Ink bled sets us free

~

Where to start, that depends
Our time alone shared with friends
Yet all stories must have ends
Well submerged is where life blends

~

Write the dark to see the light
Time always wins the fight
And when you lay awake tonight
Rest assured our future’s bright

~*~

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Keeping Spirits

~~~

Nature batters, scarring far and wide.

Forgotten battles forever tied.

Man and rock bear the loss of all who’ve died.

Rugged faces change with the changing of a tide.

~

Keeping the wary from a watery hell,

a craggy post a dutiful keeper dwell.

Keeping by day his glass shined bright,

by night he keeps his flame alight.

~

Warning all comers never to near,

this beacon of virtue is only to fear.

Bravely they stand against wind and wave,

the ocean master, keeper slave.

~

Chores of many, companions none.

Sleep begins when work is done.

Ventures end before the dark.

His light stands silent awaiting spark.

~

Beyond this rock and choppy cove,

a small town lie where tales are wove.

Stories of stormy seas abound,

and faraway lands where treasure’s found.

~

In town sits a churchyard overlooking the sea.

Where the keeper visits when a calm day’s free.

Collects his needs quickly, no time for desire.

His row is long to return to his fire.

~

Scores of seasons drifted behind.

The keeper and kept, two of a kind.

Their toils unnoticed, yet seen by all.

Keeping kept the keepers call.

~

Reflections of stars upon the sea.

Infinite horizons awaiting he.

A beacon to all, his lamp not aglow.

To see the light the keep did go.

~

The town sad for their keeper unknown.

He was buried with care as one of their own.

At the edge of the churchyard lie the keep.

With eternal vistas of the light and the deep.

~

Dozens of keepers tried to keep.

All had left quickly, missing their sleep.

Stories told of the old keeper’s ghost.

A most spirited and demanding of host.

~

He rattled windows and slammed doors,

once hid away the old rowboats oars.

His steps are heard on the stairs all night,

sometimes blowing  out the lighthouse’s light.

~

On a chilly morn some years past,

a storm was brewing, approaching fast.

A hardy young sailor paddled for the light,

racing the waves ahead of the night.

~

With setting sun and drenching rain,

wind and waves pummeled, no refrain.

Shores altered with the rising tide,

The hilltop churchyard couldn’t hide.

~

The keeps remains returned to sea.

The young sailor now keeps –  happily.

And ever since that fateful day,

the old keeper’s spirit kept at bay.

~*~

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Morning Triku #70 – Abstaction

Has a Ball

.

What surrounds us all;

Warms, chills, cries – never dies?

Ever changing skies

 

 ~

Fusion

 .

Old flames reunite

Fueled and mingling freely

When all becomes ash

~

Merry-Go-Round

.

Around and around

We all go, around what is

What I’d like to know

~*~

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Slices of Time

~

Stories of a life hidden beneath the grays

Peel back the many layers, see the brighter days

Shades grow ever subtle; space grows to its end

Hues upon a palette, in time all will blend

~

Our colors, depths and textures all leave their traces

Memories in murals and the portraits many faces

Like time measured in the trees ringed grain

Reflections of our many years of snow, ice and rain

~*~

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The Seed

~

Colors of autumn, death’s in bloom.

Return to the earth, the seeds’ final tomb,

nourishing yet another season.

We’re all guests of earth for this reason.

~

And thus the surety of life;

prosperity, mediocrity or strife.

All to return to where once came,

regardless of misfortune or fame.

~

For life is but a lesson –

throughout our mortal existence.

A test of our bodies, minds

and hearts persistence.

~

We’re all creatures of the same seed.

Return to the earth, our souls freed.

So let us not perceive death an end –

simply a new life to transcend.

~

For death is the exploration

of dimensions unknown.

And thus the destiny of the seed-

Grown

~

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Nature’s Gift

It’s been a while since I spoke of love,
that precious gift sent from above.
It fills our days with joy and bliss.
Thoughts consumed with our next kiss.
~
Eyes will open to a brand new day,
life is perfect, come what may.
Souls awakened with a simple glance.
Dreams are lived with our romance.
~
Passion exudes on your smiling face.
Troubles evaporate without a trace.
Tomorrow’s welcomed, as are more.
If a lion I’d surely roar.
~
If a kitten I’d loudly purr,
wishing to play and they’d concur.
I’ve said enough, at least, for now.
But there’ll be more, this I vow.

~*~
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FOREST OF HELL

Colorless leaf crackle beneath sole-less feet.

The smell of death lingers sweet.

Bramble thick draws blood on paper skin,

digging more deeply the deeper within.

 *

Then starlight fades to the darkness I fear,

moonlight shadows disappear.

Columns abound supporting endless night,

numbers multiply consuming the light.

 *

Welcome dew hangs heavy in unseen air,

to drink deep I do not dare.

Outstretched hands replace teary useless eyes.

Senses heightened, alert of endless cries.

 *

Vibrations of night; soft, loud, far and near,

distant from all that we all hold dear.

Wanting now only to curl-up and weep,

my soul is still for the sickle to reap.

 *

Return to the path I lost yesterday,

blackness turns slowly to gray.

Long nights journey in the forest of hell,

surviving unscathed except for my shell.

 *

The End

*

 SKittell c.2014

Division Decision

Since the beginning of time a field did feed.
Animals galore found all they could need.
Millennia’s past and all stayed the same.
Then one day a farm family came.
~
Centuries past and the farm family grew.
The field divided and then there were two.
One side raised sheep and the other was tilled.
Crops soon prospered and bellies were filled.
~
Decades followed as more homes were built.
The farms disappeared without any guilt.
The moral being that time does divide.
And when time runs out there’s nowhere to hide.

~*~
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The Chill is Gone

A roof-top garden above us all, 

trees now blossomed, the sky made small.

Morning’s crisp with color’s bright.

Bees and butterflies dance in flight.

~

Fragrant florals enhance the scene.

Whilst songs of birds fill between.

A busy squirrel hides their lunch.

All to be nurtured, I’ve a hunch.

~

Grassy patches catch the sun.

Warmth is felt where winter’s none.

Spring is here with glory and grace.

Smiles return to a once chilled face.

~*~

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