Rose & Thorn Poetry

"Autumn" A gust rushed through languid leaves Unleashing them from captor trees. Trading longer days for hastened nights Umber leaves skim the earth in sinking sunlight. Measured changes gradually increase, Now appear spicy scents, cooler air, sticky sweets, Apparel of sweaters and scarves in a sudden gush. Ubiquitously the environs announce, awash with telltale proof This advent perfected,  no longer aloof. Under steely skies and cold biting air, where unbound leaves rattle and rasp Muted shadows lengthen their darkening grasp. Nothing remains untouched, the world tinted with autumn sun’s setting blush.

This one took a long time to finish. It started out very short, but as I thought about what keeping silent means and what it does, the poem kept growing. There is a time to be silent and a time to speak up. What happens when it is time to speak and you don’t? I’ve seen what silence and a lack of communication can do to people and to relationships and to myself. This is something I struggle with, being an introvert and all. I’m not big on chatting in general or being vulnerable and open. But I’m trying to change that, to be the best version of me I can be, even as an introvert, because I’ve seen the harm of silence. It can be more destructive than you might think. Keeping Silent Silence is golden A venerable mystique. But sometimes it’s not, Sometimes it’s weak Can people read minds, Do they know how you feel, Can they see through your eyes, Or hear through your ears? You have to tell them, You have to speak. …1... What good is a compliment if it is left unsaid What good is symp...

I am a morning person. I love mornings and I am most productive in the morning, but I am not a social morning person--maybe that means I am not a true morning person? I like to take my time in the morning, I don't just bolt out of bed, and sometimes I am around social morning people who like to ask questions and talk a bunch. I wish I could be like that, but so far I am not. I saw a coffee mug that said, “Mornings were made for coffee and quiet contemplation.” I agree. Early - (The Murder of Solitude) Sun-streams burst through shuttered blinds, Morning suddenly arrived. The dreaded wake up routine can wait, A few more minutes of solitude. Lying in soft swaddled residence, Eyes wide open stare at ceiling, Thoughts gently start to wake. Muted morning sounds, muffled morning noise, Blissful moment of solitude. Goodbye warm bed as bare feet hit the floor, Soft bedroom carpet turning into cold kitchen wood. Coffee. The warm enveloping smell of coffee.  So...

 I saw this picture online and I wanted to write a poem about it. I have a similar pair of shoes that I've had for years. I don't own many pairs of shoes so the ones I do, I wear very often. Memories can be tied to many things. Mine are tied to my shoes. Getting rid of a favorite pair of shoes is like a memorial of sorts. That thought was the inspiration for this poem. Photo from:  http://shineylite.deviantart.com/art/Day-3-216007254 *photo taken by Mary Kate Mann The Shoes There they sit, the well worn footwear. Old, tattered, beloved. The dirt, the tears, the holes, the wear, Evidence of memories and adventure. Faded and frayed the trustworthy friend, To rest is laid. There for the forgotten game, The third date, the plane ride, The few times that tears were cried. And a thousand other days, Experienced and remembered, Each with jokes, and fails and laughs and trails. Kind protection from the wet walks, Dirt, glass and nails. Always near, always cl...

I was working on a different poem, but I ended up with this one. This morning was not ideal for concentrating, but I was inspired by the craziness nonetheless. My cats normally run around outside chasing insects and lizards. Today it was raining so they were cooped up in my room. Trying to keep them entertained and behaved so I could work was a challenge. Snapshot of Today Toys scattered on the floor, Blanket tent stretched cross the room, The frogs are singing of the rain, The cats are restless as they play. My sister sits on the floor, Earbuds in, notebook out, Text book of anatomy spread about. Oh, there runs the cat. I sit also on the floor, With coffee in hand, Reading, writing, Breaking up the cats fighting. The youngest one, energetic orange ball of fur, Chirps then pounces on his listless sister,  She growls and I wonder when they will tire, And take a nap, surely the energy will expire. Back to work, at least I try, So distracted am ...

I’m posting what I want to call snapshot poetry. It’s a poem I write after seeing a picture that inspires me. I write the poem to describe a picture the way I feel it. I had fun with this one and wrote three different poems.   This is the picture I saw on Pinterest. I did some searching and this is the link for, I think, the original picture:   https://500px.com/photo/223415/its-a-rainy-day-by-vinoth-chandar Photo taken by Vinoth Chandar The Umbrella (component description) Eight suspended nylon wings,   Taffeta stretched between wire ribs. Pointed tips where water drips,   Metal shaft spiked through domed rain shield, Curved hook, a solid grip. The Umbrella (narrative) Lying there it stayed, While the water came to play. The dark clouds foreboding bade, For the sun, they did betray. On its side it lay, In crystal splendor vast arrayed,  The splashed canopy there splayed. In shadows forlorn, beauty it did portra...

Some of My Favorites I like Gold-kissed early mornings, Mist enchanted grassy pastures, Crisp, cold biting air, Whispers. I like Rain beads dripping from leaves, Steam rising from tea, Guitar strings pulsating, Piano notes resonating. I like Long cast shadows, The scent of rose petals, The taste of melted chocolate, The warmth of apple cider. I like How carpet feels beneath bare feet, And how if feels to walk on sand, On cool, smooth wood, On warm concrete. I like Kisses from kittens, Sprinkles on ice cream, A well-worn book, A soft warm bed. I like Yellow flowers with lots of petals, Rainy days and starlit nights, Hugs from dear friends, Finding time to write. I like The number 7, The sound of a kitten’s purr, Seeing the world from towering heights, Watching the sky turn red, purple and gold. I like The sound of a breeze rustling leaves, Spending time climbing trees, The color of a blue green sea, Songs played in minor keys, Milk in a...