Velocipeda - POEM of the MONTH!

Velocipeda

On any given brisk morning
Or afternoon filled with sunshine,
Down to the farmer's market
Or up the steepest incline.

Adrenaline surge on pedals
With the wind in my hair,
Sends a sensation of euphoria
Like a smile to answered prayer.

Whether on days with no chain
Or my feet sink into the pave',
Any direction on two wheels
Is like another holiday!

More rewarding than the machine,
And what many inventions lack,
Is the shared exhilaration
Of exchanged smiles in a pack.

~

The first bicycle prototype, called the Laufmaschine (running machine), was invented by Baron Karl von Drais in 1817 in Mannheim, Germany. But, it may be considered that the first bicycle, called the velocipeda, was built by French nobleman Comte de Sivrac in 1791.
Most historians are of the opinion that it was Ernest Michaux who invented the bicycle with the help of his father Pierre Michaux, in 1861.

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Static in the Wind - POEM of the MONTH!

Static in the Wind

This is the dawn of creation,
The cracking flash of light;
This is the Word spoken,
Staging all of life -- ignite!

The earth was formless,
The Spirit hovered in love --
Endless, with the fullness
Of the breath from above.

Static in the wind.
Inception.
Before anyone sinned.
Reflection.

Reflection.
As if no one sinned.
Inception.
Static in the wind.

A pen draws near a page,
A brush drips onto canvas,
A curtain cracks onstage --
Emerging from the darkness.

This is the dawn of creation,
A cracking flash of light;
This is imagination,
The mirror of life -- delight!

Nothing Left to Imagine - POEM of the MONTH!

Nothing Left to Imagine

Lying under the warm sun
Or lying to my tempered self,
There's nothing left to imagine
From Time's dusty bookshelf.

Learning every exposition
From comedy to utter rage,
Ticking until the explosion
Or exploding onto the stage.

Without a loss for words
Or lost in every melody;
Breaking all the records
Or exhausting every key.

Information provided,
Images without mystery,
Distractions undetected,
No one learns from history.

Reading between the lines
From Socrates to Tolstoy;
A narrative redefines,
Or it's problematic to employ.

Driving for peace and order
Or certain the road trip is a bust;
Wondering to see Heaven's wonder,
Or content as recycled dust ...

[Click here to read the Epilogue.]

~

“Meaningless! Meaningless!” says the Teacher. “Utterly meaningless! Everything is meaningless.”

-- Ecclesiastes 1:2

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One Month After Christmas

One Month After Christmas

New Year's resolutions might fall by the wayside
But Mr. Scrooge is planning the next feast;
And though a poor habit may haunt the hillside,
The spirit of Christmas conquered the beast!

My Heart Is - POEM of the MONTH!

My Heart Is

my heart is light
much more than a spot
on the stage of life
but from left to right
and beyond the curtain
there is no shadow

my heart is rain
a light sprinkle
baptizing the sidewalk
on a Sunday afternoon
creating a moment
that is rest

my heart is breath
the spark of the soul
and a whispering guide
through the hills of cedar
and the canyons of ash
there is none without flight

my heart is fire
a roaring furnace
purifying the gold
for an eternal stroll
on the street
that is perfection

my heart is rock
unlike the sand
flowing through time
causing days of anxiety
but a solid foundation
there is none without want

my heart is thunder
a resounding roar
the voice of the word
who spoke the universe
into existence
with echoes of remembrance

"The lamp-post" by Ulf Bodin 
is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 2.0.

my heart is yearning
to light your way
to give you rest
and to lift you up
to restore your soul
to build your house
for I know you by name

~

"Your word is a lamp for my feet, a light on my path."
- Psalm 119:105

"Before I was born the Lord called me; from my mother's womb he has spoken my name."
- Isaiah 49:1b

~

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The Red Button - POEM of the MONTH!

The Red Button

If only the red button
     looked like a STOP sign
It's as if love and peace
     crashed into a dead end
Hot or cold, the streets
     are flooded with war
If only the red button
     was the sign of YIELD

It's as if love and peace
     crashed into a dead end
Hot or cold, the streets
     are flooded with war
If only the red button
     was the sign of YIELD

Hot or cold, the streets
     are flooded with war
If only the red button
     was the sign of YIELD

If only the red button
     was the sign of YIELD

On all four corners ...

~

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Snowfall (a pantoum) - POEM of the MONTH!

Snowfall (a pantoum)

When they sing in the snowfall
The words are spelled out,
Like the writing on the wall
But drifting thereabout.

The words are spelled out
In forewarning tones --
But drifting thereabout
Are the voices of gravestones.

In forewarning tones,
"Do not smell these flowers!"
Are the voices of gravestones
Crying to savor the hours?

Do not smell these flowers,
Except those held in hands
Crying to savor the hours.
Please, do not misunderstand.

Except those held in hands
Like the writing on the wall,
Please do not misunderstand
When, they sing in the snowfall.

~

Also published in this month's Synchronized Chaos.