Well, friends, I have received 6 entries from 2 different artists for our poetry challenge, and since one of the writers is my best friend – who already receives lots of Thistlebred freebies, and who has asked not to be considered in the judging – our Poetry Champion is Lillian Daniels! Congratulations! Perhaps more artists will be inspired to compete next year? Please enjoy the challenge entries, re-posted below!
Deep, so Deep is the Blue –
fall into its un-fathomed waves.
It is liquid on air, which gravity cannot tame.
It is older than time, yet so soft like a whisper.
Blue knows you –
can surround you with the cold wet of its vapor
and consume you where you stand.
Yet, he is also gentle,
lapping up against your mind
with a clear and powerful message
like a lifeline in the storm.
Blue feels dark and dangerous,
but fear it not.
He loves honor.
He will cherish the gentler, pure.
He will know you –
and you will then, by him, know yourself.
Grieve, Grieve your fall into strawberry wine!
That path beyond, which beckons
with soft music and sweet promise, is ended.
The only journey taken with eyes closed –
weightless soul following that joyful sound into
another place of vast distance:
another time of unimaginable heights.
The edges fade into warm misty fountains.
To look is at once to be refreshed.
Only rest and wonder surround,
swallowing the heart, and the heart is glad of it.
Grieve the misfortune that calls the dawn.
Savor the last moment of sweet summer wine
before it is gone.
~☆ Dusk ☆~
Veil a dying Sun.
As twink’ling stars emerge,
Shattered light graces the night.
Pale moon dances in ebon guise,
A stately waltz across the skies,
Until even Night’s denizens must dream.
Now, fallen low, bright moon must rest her head,
And silent repose shall soon return,
As silvered eyes close one by one.
Day’s first light pierces the night.
Cast off the shroud of gloom.
Revive with the Sun,
As morning yawns,
.~*°’• Dawn •’°*~.
A lock of wavy
hair which flows so confident
in the gentle breeze.
Zombies are like cheese…
Those with culture are most sharp…
And ripen with age.
When you asked me to pen something witty …
I cringed, and I begged you “Have pity!” ….
Though try as I might …
‘Tis a losing fight …
These words all come out much too pretty.