Coming To Love, Life

Laying rhythm down
A beating heart encased in
Nature’s creation
God’s gift the animation,
Spirit, soul, imagination.
Endowed with talent
Passion, creativity
Living fantasy
Placing love before, behind,
Grace provides mercy needed.
Recognizing who
Becomes a sweet diversion,
Painting lightning with
Touch scoring the open heart
Marked, to belong henceforth.
Pleasing songs, apt words
Recited in perfect timing
Adventure calling
Love the meaning, need, being,
Defining every moment.

Prompt: What do you most desire in the coming year? State your intention; however you choose.

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A Tanka, A Haiku

In evening’s dewfall
When light turns itself away,
Windows golden glow;
People slow themselves to think,
Believing love hearts will link.

The water whispers
A song as slow passing by
Geese produce wavelets.

Winter – Spring

How the cold now reigns
Like desolate destiny
Over everything
Frost gathering a pale cape
Over barest trees and fields.
My heart remembers
Retains the brilliance, soft warmth
Of returning Spring,
With hope – perhaps love it brings
To win hearts, human being.

The poem is made of two tanka conjoined—one of those playthings I love more than Wookie does the kept-away ball. I share, Wookie, not so much.

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WhatEverMore

Whatever hope contained
The depth of soul, height of heart,
Full measure of mind,
Is lost in distant days past
Awash in seas of monsters.

Round Ramble

How one goes about
Being mostly positive
For other’s pleasure;
But wallows deep in despair
Of themself is mystery.

It is rushing waves
Upon a marble shoreline
Where no hope abides
Of escaping the restless
Pull of moon, stars, tide, and time.

Reading what becomes,
Is, Might be, the difficult
Reason to purpose,
How life is met, advantage
Stark incredibility.

Blood poured on pages;
Giving others a meaning
To discover, make,
A pretty expanse of days
Infused with brilliant excellence.

Yet, shadow unknown
Haunting doubt, fear, lacking what
Is given away,
Because the self to others
Makes a deft sacrifice.

Cutting every day
A notch in the living thing
That is heart, spirit,
Returning with seeping wounds,
Not fully mended, a mind.

One day only this
Ghost record will remain,
Reaching back to bring
Clarity indeed well tested;
Lacking creative mortal.

I hope you are well. We’ve only days to Christmas, and other holidays are underway or will soon follow. Take care of yourself and those you love. This year is a bit different for all of us, but we can handle it with grace.

I appreciate you taking a few moments to visit Haphazard Creative. Please follow the site or visit often. If you have comments, suggestions, thoughts, please express them in the comment section. I welcome them all.

God bless you and yours.