Morning thoughts
Morning thoughts
~
A sun rises over roof tops
Greeting the cold morning air
A wind blows heavy, swaying trees
The branches stripped bare by winter
The world is slowly waking
And the picture beyond my window
Emerges to life once more
I lay motionless in silence
Nursing warm coffee in my hands
Early thoughts begin to stir
My pen yet to be put to paper
I think back to dreams
The night passed what they brought
I think to the day ahead
What will it bring
Thoughts of love and romance
What could I write of them
I watch a world waking
A sun rising over rooftops
And I listen to my thoughts
poem by Matthew Holloway
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A Morning Poem
I greet the morning air
with half sleep filled eyes
the damp of morning dew
taken in with each breath
slowly light breaks through
waking me fully into the day
thoughts stir I remain unmoved
greeting the morning air
I look to the streets ahead
to the journey I must make
I say a quiet prayer
to the spirit of the poets
heart, mind and soul
let this day not fall
poem by Matthew Holloway
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A winters morning
A winters morning
~
Amongst a listless morning
still thoughts linger
in the soft pale light
cold dew hangs in the air
bare trees line the horizon
a backdropp of grey cloud
there is nothing more
or less beautiful seen
within a winters portrait
than a world changing
stripped bare, naked
the frailty of life
witnessed
poem by Matthew Holloway
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My Favorite Time
My favorite time of morning
Is that time of morning when
I have a cup of warm coffee in my hands
And the sun barely peeks over the land
When the day is yet unwritten
When I am alone in the quiet
With thoughts of you
To keep me company
At my favorite time
My favorite time of the day
Is that time of day when
I hear your voice or see your words
And I know you are engaged in me
As I am engaged in you
As I am replete with thoughts of you
Warm thoughts of you
Across the miles
At my favorite time
My favorite time of the night
Is that time of night when
I close my eyes and dream of you
And my dreams are vivid, sweet and real
In them we are together
In them there is no yesterday or tomorrow
Only a never ending today
With you always
At my favorite time
So my favorite time really
Is that real time
I am privileged to think of you
And to know that no matter what
You are all I could ever want
You are all I will ever need
In a partner, friend and love
I know this now because with you I am always
In my favorite time
poem by David Terry
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I dreamed of you last night
I dreamed of you
last night
and the coldness,
woke me up
early this morning.
With the first light
that draws stripes
through the small window,
my first thoughts
touched you.
This morning the sun
was high up in the sky
and I prayed
for you
to love me more
and right through the day,
my thoughts
stayed with you.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Sunday morning skies
Sunday morning skies
~
Laying in just after waking
Covers pulled tight, no chance of moving
Looking through open widows
At a clear blue Sunday sky
Smiling through memories
Those thoughts which fill head
Of the night before, the days to come
The way friends are always near
In a perfect innocence their words
Carry away all worries
Becoming distracted by the self
Coffee and toast on the bedside
Slowly going cold
Sleep still lingers in the eye
A soft breeze blows in
Television on in the background
A morning of rest and recollection
While looking at a clear blue sky
The joy of a Sunday morning
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Thought Broadcasting
Silence is a silver ship
Traveling at the speed of the darkness,
Black holes are the edifices in which I
Build my thoughts-
Word by word,
Each and every syllable forms upon my lips,
And then broadcasted, aloud-
Thoughts are killers- thoughts can harm-
My thoughts can be heard from afar.
Within this room I write my thoughts
With a pen that is void of ink, or a pencil
That has no lead,
Invisible they are, but somehow,
These thoughts are broadcasted aloud.
Thoughts are killers thoughts control-
My thoughts can be heard from afar.
A silver ship with its sail to the wind,
A wild horse that canters across vast terrain, or
Pebbles that roll off of my fingertips,
That splash into the creek, one by one,
You can see, you can hear, as
My thoughts, broadcasted aloud.
My thoughts can be heard from afar.
My thoughts are a flame that only I can quench.
I am in control of what comes into my mind,
As my hands build the world from
The bricks of Time,
My thoughts control the world.
My thinking destroys those, whom I abhor,
My thoughts control the downtrodden.
Silence is a silver ship, or
The dome beneath which I dwell-
I build my edifice beneath this dome.
No one dares to enter, as
I have broadcasted a message to the world,
My eyes order the world away;
My thoughts are broadcasted aloud,
A bad thought can destroy, as good ones
Create and control,
My thoughts control the world…
poem by Claudia Krizay
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Riding Changing Pursuit Thoughts
sometimes he rides his thoughts like bicycles
sometimes thoughts like the allure of a whisper
sometimes thoughts like the scent of a candle
sometimes thoughts like the purr of a motorcycle
sometimes thoughts like screaming engine race
sometimes thoughts like thunder lightning flashes
sometimes flash fire thoughts comets igniting the sky
sometimes riding morning breaks punctuates paradise
sometimes morning breaks spread encircle entire earth
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Early Morning Thoughts
early morning thoughts
as warm as the rising sun
as beautiful as the temporary
dew on the leaves
of the red petals of the rose
in the garden
time becomes a luxury
time that pass and
does not come back
does not wait
you stop
and reflect upon those thoughts
that stand by
like passengers of the bus
going to a faraway
place on an unknown destination
you become that bus
and you let them all in
filled
and heavy you start the engine
and go
and forget that you
are a farmer in the garden
and not the driver
of this bus on an unknown destination
you account for each
you stare at their faces
and begin to ask
their names
the place where they come from
the loves of their lives
their misfortunes
and the reason why they are alive
why they want to go away
why the want
to die
you grieve and send the sighs to sky
and then
you send them all away
you write.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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You Are In My Silence
Cold as death that's what silence means
Numb and dark always sad scenes
But when you came all the closed garden gates
Are filled with music the sadness melts.
Now I find refuge and that is silence
I find a friend I guess in calmness
You house my thoughts if I don't talk
I paint a smile even as I walk.
My silence means only one reason
Busying myself with only one person
Thinking in the morning or in the afternoon
I even feel like a weightless balloon.
You are in my silence can't you listen
I don't want to think there are things I'm missing
It must be magic It might be love
Thinking 'bout it makes a quick throb.
You are in my silence as natural as I breathe
Like the stars in the sky and the letters in my sheets
You appear in my thoughts in every waking moment
I love thinking of you, always, I'll keep silent.
poem by Naida Supnet
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Morning blue sky
Morning blue sky
~
Looking upon a pale blue sky
A plane cuts across my sight
That sharp white line climbs
Into a journey to begin the day
Off into a wandering fantasy
A stirring of birds fill the view
Like a thousand thoughts
All the world slowly waking
Still not a cloud to be seen
Last nights sleep rubbed from eyes
While watching the plane disappear
The fading white trail ebbs away
A journey somewhere beginning
Or perhaps another’s ending
The fantasy of a journey
Looking into a morning blue sky
Stirs the waking mind
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Winters passing
Winters passing
~
A winter passed into day
In the morning sun I saw
Frost melt in the early light
The garden filled with dew
And birds return to sing
The night is going soon
Winter is passing away
The bare trees stand tall
Swaying gently to the wind
Which blows from the east
A season of change
poem by Matthew Holloway
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This morning I lock the cold wind out
This morning I lock the cold wind out
with a nice hot leather jacket
that I zip close up to my chin
and on the motorbike
my hands are almost frozen,
but my thoughts are with you.
While I pass a string of cars
I wonder if you are stuck in traffic
or already at work?
It’s as if your eyes are burning into my soul
and constantly you accompany me
in my thoughts
to all the places that I go.
As if I will somewhere leave the road
and you will also get off the bike
and in a coffee shop
will take my hands in yours.
poem by Gert Strydom
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My Thoughts
Thought in the eyes,
The ears.
Thought in mind,
The brain,
Thought in heart,
The soul.
Great thought is great
when it becomes great deeds.
With my thoughts within
Building my world within
Learning with thought;
Is great learning wisdom.
Learning without thought,
Is opportunity lost.
Thought for others
Thought for God
Thought for good
Thought for God’s blessing
Thoughts teach me,
Thoughts educate me,
Thoughts clarify me,
Thoughts enlighten me.
Thoughts make me wise
Thoughts make me patience
Thoughts make me trust others
Thoughts make me clam.
Thoughts before act
Is smart and wise
Act before thoughts
Is stupid and foolish
That’s my thoughts
They make thinking clear
They make belief deepen
They make confidence high.
In thoughts, my world
In my world, make my thoughts.
In thoughts, my words
In my words, make my speech
It’s my thoughts count
Counting my thoughts
To endless counting thoughts
Thinking the thoughts endlessly
My thoughts and thoughts again.
poem by Lawrence Hiung
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Happy Thoughts, Happy Thoughts, Think Happy Thoughts
I have to keep reminding myself to forget you.
Forget you and me.
(Happy thoughts, happy thoughts, think happy thoughts.)
You wanted me to promise to never say it again
Those three words
(Happy thoughts, happy thoughts, think happy thoughts)
Which is laughably easy to do right now because
We are so far out of touch I couldn’t reach you if I tried
(Happy thoughts, happy thoughts, think happy thoughts)
So I plod through grey days and inky dark nights
Heavy laden with regret
(Happy thoughts, happy thoughts, think happy thoughts)
Tomorrow I will remind myself to forget you.
Forget you and me.
12-25-07
djlw
poem by Shannon Wright
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The Wind
I felt the wind come in today
and felt the gusts that blew.
I thought of warmth and summer
and then I thought of you.
No leaves are left upon my trees.
The wind has blown them away.
And as it blows unmercifully
my thoughts have gone astray.
I must gather them in once again
and let them keep me warm.
If but for no other reason
than to quiet my mental storm
that is just as ferocious as the wind
and chills the thoughts that appear.
I can't figure out which is worse,
the thoughts or the wind that's here?
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Do You Have Any Thoughts About Me?
Do you have any thoughts about me?
And I want to know if the thoughts that you have about me
Are any good?
Do you mind sharing the thoughts about me?
What are the thoughts about me like?
Are the thoughts about me semtimental?
Are the thoughts about me very romantic?
Are the thoughts about me full of love?
poem by Aldo Kraas
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The Dawn Wind
The Fifteenth Century
At two o'clock in the morning, if you open your window and
listen,
You will hear the feet of the Wind that is going to call the sun.
And the trees in the shadow rustle, and the trees in the moonlight
glisten,
And though it is deep, dark night, you feel that the night is
done.
So do the cows in the field. They graze for an hour and lie down,
Dozing and chewing the cud; or a bird in the ivy wakes,
Chirrups one note and is still, and the restless Wind stares on,
Fidgeting far down the road, till, softly, the darkness breaks.
Back comes the Wind full strength with a blow like an angel's
wing,
Gentle but waking the world, as he shouts: "The Sun! The
Sun!"
And the light floods over the fields and the birds begin to sing,
And the Wind dies down in the grass. It is day and his work
is done.
So when the world is asleep, and there seems no hope of her
waking
Out of some long, bad dream that makes her mutter and moan,
Suddenly, all men arise to the noise of fetters breaking,
And every one smiles at his neighbor and tells him his soul is
his own!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Outside My Picture Window
It has been said that there is a world outside my picture window and
Beyond the trees I see everyday and the sky, sometimes overcast and
Other days, when the sun rises early- I can see the sky and have often wondered if
There exists another world within our universe- I know that
There exists a world inside of my mind and
My pupils are the windows into which
People would look if I were to venture outward?
Beyond the sky, and beyond the sun-
Beyond that world inside my mind,
I would never know where there exists a place for me-
Last night outside of my window
I could see the stars- stars mean different things to different people as
Does the sun, the trees and this whole world outside-
The world inside my mind revolves about
The sun that shines upon my own horizon and
As for this world outside, all I can do is look- and to
See a tree, perhaps a single cloud and the grass that grows-
I have shut my mind to the people who live beyond
The trees, clouds and the grass that I can see-
That window opens to the world inside of my thoughts-
I have just shut and pulled the curtain to discourage all intruders-
I am lying by my window in total darkness now as I place my hand over my eyes,
Shutting out reality and now I can see mountains, flowering trees and
A creek flowing in which I can see my reflection and
I am running upon the grass that grows beneath my feet-
I believe I heard music playing inside the fortress of my mind-
It has been said there is a world outside and I have pulled the curtain
To the window once opened to veracity-
Darkness has never looked as beautiful as I am safe here in my solitude-
Even when the stars are shining and the sky is such a magnificent sight to see-
No place is as exquisite as the creek that runs through my inner space and
The sun inside the world of my thoughts that shines upon my horizon?
The stars are far away and all that is real, though just outside my picture window
I perceive as too far away for me to reach- I would touch the stars and I could be a dove
That can lift my wings and fly away from all that threatens, but only inside my dreams-
Children sing songs and read fairy tales and they believe and I believe that
The sun shines light upon their worlds and
Someday their dreams shall blossom as has mine and shall become their homes-
Home is the safe place inside a person's mind, not within the madding crowd that
Exists outside my picture window- even if the stars are always there- and
That unique and special sun shall just keep on shining upon the world of my dreams….
poem by Claudia Krizay
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Mull Around Inside My Head
In the early morning hours
when the world is still in bed,
I come downstairs and make a cup of coffee
while my thoughts mull around inside my head.
I think of things I would like to happen
making little sketches if they did,
smile at how I could create a perfect world for me.
I think of my friends
who maybe worlds apart
and how I could be closer to them.
The scenarios I think of
I know will never be,
they are just in my thoughts
that mull around inside my head.
30 November 2008
poem by David Harris
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Bingeing On Thoughts
Bingeing on thoughts of romance I am.
Bingeing on thoughts,
Brought on by romance.
I get high hopes and I want to dance!
Bingeing on romance,
I am.
Bingeing on thoughts of romance I am.
Bingeing on thoughts,
Brought on by romance.
I get high hopes and I want to dance!
Bingeing on romance,
I am.
Bingeing on thoughts of romance I am.
Bingeing on thoughts,
Brought on by romance.
I get high hopes and I want to dance!
Bingeing on romance,
I am.
Bingeing on thoughts,
That I will...
When I can!
Bingeing a reminiscing,
Chance to stay tranced.
Bingeing on thoughts?
That I am. I am.
Bingeing I am when I can.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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