What’s Up with the sky?

To be beautiful means to be yourself. You don’t need to be accepted by others. You need to be yourself.

Thich Nhat Hanh

Oh! What’s up with this sky that I spy?
Never changing, always blue
As if it has no clue how to change it’s hue

I wonder why
This sky that I spy
Is always so blue

Perhaps it is out of breath
Tired, due to dividing the heavens
From the earth?

Oh! You sky that I spy with my eye
I don’t mean to pry, but why
Are you always so blue?

Shouldn’t you be yellow
Glad, from being the dome
enclosing our home?
Protecting us from the sun
When our skin it’s rays try to fry.

Oh! What’s up with this sky that I spy?
Always so blue, never changing

Perhaps it is true it hasn’t a clue
How to change it’s hue?

This sky that I spy with my eye
Why is it always so blue?

Someone should sue it for being blue.

In tune with wind

We cannot truly face life until we face the fact it will be taken away from us.

Billy Graham

Listening to the soft sound of the leaves hiss,
As they blow in the wind to show their bliss.
I can hear the branches of the trees move-
In slow motion because they want to prove,
That they are indeed feeling much at ease,
For their senses are tuned into the breeze.

Looking at the moving branches of trees,
I witness birds sharing in on the thrills
Of this merry day that has much to say.
Though I need be going home, I choose to stay
Because this sight is a feast for my eyes-
That nourishes my mind and makes me wise.

Tasting the sweet flavor of the moment,
I witness it all before it is spent.
Long have I sat without making a move
In the lotus because I want to prove
That I am indeed feeling much at ease
For my senses are tuned into the breeze.

What’s that I smell? The scent of joy in air
As it oozes from my skin and my hair-
To mix with the sweat of the smiling trees.
The beauty in this moment, to my knees
Brings me; for to thank the Gods must I pray,
For gladly blessing me with this joyous day.

© 2019 The Poets Peace

Glancing at Dancing Trees

Everything you can imagine is real.

Pablo Picasso
 
by the lone bench, i sat and stared above
at the dancing branches of talking trees
in the grove, praising the song of the birds
that with life, seem to be deeply in love.

like a dancer, swaying with graceful ease
the trees moved gracefully in the breeze
so that they looked like a well polished team
of choreographed dancers high in esteem.

long i sat at that bench, long did they dance
thrilling in the trill of the singing birds
that made them sway from side to side, curves
that for so long stood in a silent stance.

they must be real fit, in my mind i thought
as i looked at the dancing trees that brought
an envious smile to the mouth on my face
as i myself, could never dance with such grace.

© 2019 The Poets Peace

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Who Likes To See The Sunset?

There isn’t a way things should be. There’s just what happens, and what we do.

Terry Pratchett

Image by Pete Linforth from Pixabay

WHO!

Likes to see the sunset?


ME!

I dislike to see the sunset!
spell the demise of yet another day.
at dusk, by welcoming the night.
bidding me to my bed, so as to lay--

down and rest my expensive, pensive thoughts.
though they be tired, from running in circles.

ME!

I hate to gaze at the sunset!
as it always makes me upset.
when it ushers in the dark night--
that seeks to bring us, under great fright!

© 2020 The Poets Peace

Who Likes To See The Sunrise?

Your true success in life begins only when you make the commitment to become excellent at what you do.

Brian Tracy

WHO!

Likes to see the sunrise?


ME!

i like to see the sunrise!
at dawn, spell the demise
of yet another night
by ushering in her light.

ME!

I like to look at the sunrise!

I like to see that first ray
of sunshine make its long way--
from a million light years away
just to bring me, a bright new day.

© 2020 The Poets Peace

Sun-shines never Shine

The man who persists in knocking will succeed in entering.

Moses Ibn Ezra
Image by OpenClipart-Vectors from Pixabay

Sunshine's never shine as bright as this.
Except on days when the sky is blue.
And the land itself has not a clue.
Weather the dark clouds will take a piss--

And rain down on them to quench their thirst.
Or if the blistering summer heat;
Will continue to beat, down on the creatures.
That roam the once green, fields of these pastures.

Sunshine's never shine as bright as this.
Except on days when the sky is clear.
And the barren land begins to fear.
That the clouds, might not cry to bring bliss--

To the rivers, who's waters have drowned.
In the dry depths of an aging land.
That has seen many a wetter day.
In times when clouds told the story--

Of the ancestors that made them sad.
Yet made the land and animals glad.

© 2019 The Poets Peace