Poem No. 84: “A Snowflake Falls” by Ruth Adams

The Red Box

Snowfall

Snowflake

One night I saw a snowflake fall.
Past memories it did recall.

And as the snow fell to the ground,
So quietly without a sound,

I watched until a blanket made,
To glistening white – brown earth did fade.

An untouched cover until the dawn.
The sun arose; it was soon gone.

I thought of friendships in the past.
Seemed perfect though they did not last.

And family ties once meant so much,
Now rarely do we keep in touch.

So quickly life can take a turn,
Yet slowly we do seem to learn.

So many things in life can change
And suddenly be rearranged.

In our slumber while we do sleep,
For granted blessings thought to keep,

For same as night does turn to morn,
An untouched blanket can get torn,

The things that we have overlooked,
Ignored, rejected or mistook,

As melted snow does turn to…

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Mirabilis Jalapas, Four O’Clocks

Sunshiny SA Site

As much as I like sunshine, I prefer cloudy days more because of the phenomenal Mirabilis Jalapas that hold onto daylight.   On warmer days, they are content to remain as buds to bloom later on in the afternoons, hence the name “four o’ clock” flowers.  Mirabilis in Latin, means wonderful and that is how they make me feel.

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Somewhat bushy, these flowers grew from a tuber given to me by my neighbour. The pink and yellow trumpet shaped flowers have a delicate scent. Hugged by the purple and white brunfelsias on the left and the blushing bougainvilleas on the right, they are content self-seed, lay low and bloom embracingly.

For a while, they lay dormant and I lamented their absence but their moodiness was short-lived.  Such is the appeal that I mean to pot some closer, outside the library, so that I may enjoy their full bounty more.

For bursts…

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Storia illustrata

Inside the Poppy

Friendly Fairy Tales

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inside the poppy,
lies a dark purple pulse
a secret heart

Copyright 2019 Brenda Davis Harsham

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Traum

Herzlich Willkommen bei Lis

 Gefangen in den eigenen Gedanken,

 verloren in dieser Welt der Träume.

 Die Sehnsucht nach Erfüllung,

 die Hoffnung nach dem finden,

 die Angst zu verlieren,

 die Stärke zu besitzen schwach zu sein,

 den Mut zu haben Gefühle zu zeigen.

 Ein Traum den ich Träume.

***

© Bernd Hoffmann

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when you go

House of Heart

When you leave I become

the sea gull begging salt from

from the briny air.

My veins are a winding tunnel

beneath a deep purple sea.

I channel you in the snow owl’s

perpetual call  that  awakens the

sleeping night and the phantom of

your hand at the linen across my hip.

Your shirt hangs  from a closet door

in the buttery sunlight and I become

so small I could slip inside the lining

of your chest against the warm skin

where I long to be.

art by Anuraag

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