A sparkle sprinkled through the day,
when welcomed touch you sent my way,
I turned and looked into your eyes,
there love’s wonder made me sigh.
But was it love or just a lie,
to raise emotions up so high,
then throw them down and cast away,
never to love another day.
Category: Poetry
Moving On by L. M. Montes
As I saunter toward the river’s path,
a gentle breeze tickles my cheek and pass by,
floating, billowing, wafting about
and circling back while picking up scents
of violets teetering side to side.
I halt at the hint of violet upon the breeze,
wondering if the scent will carry itself back to me,
but no, it’s not to come to pass again,
just freshness, newness, playfulness of life
introduces itself to me with every step and passing breath.
Moments by L. M. Montes
Moments flicker in the sun,
at times not seen,
as we run,
Stay and linger for a while,
bask in warm light,
and in style,
Maybe see me on the beach,
breathing salt air,
I outreach
for you who sees beauty’s dawn,
and sings to me,
songs bygone,
Sweetest scented breezes fill
me as you sing
of love’s thrill.
Weekly Tides by L. M. Montes
On Sunday I took a stroll down the sidewalk gazing at the sky,
when all at once a water splatter knocked my to the side,
I jerked my head in said direction only to see a sly
smile pasted to a child’s cheeks.
On Monday rain and darkness spread across the day,
mocking me with smirking chills and wind along the way,
a sigh burst from my chest and with it any happy splay
of goodness for the coming week.
Tuesday painted a blue sky with light white cloud streaks
sashaying from north to south and dancing on the breeze,
A beautiful day and feeling from morn to night I’ll see,
But in the distance dreaded clouds leak.
Wednesday chugged me up a hill with slowness and sloth,
dankness of a sludgy day of gray air upon which flew a moth,
I should not dwell on darkness shrouding day like sackcloth,
More power lies in light for all to seek.
Thursday churned pre-weekend folly set upon the wind,
thoughts of coming attractions from which I can’t rescind,
grabs my motivations for fun that made me grin,
But shouldn’t caution overtake actions that could be bleak?
Friday sailed through morning’s window with scented fresh
air of coming relaxation at the end of a busy week of mesh
and grayness that had pressed upon my intellect and flesh,
Oh how the coming weekend appears so sheik.
Saturday woke me at noon with a headache and a crash,
laughed then spread the curtains wide with sun upon my lash,
knives pierced my temples as they gouged and dug with brash
pain as I waited for soothing Sunday and the start of another week.
Weather’s Dance by L. M. Montes
Drops of plenty wet the soul,
a newness fills and now takes hold,
pinkish flowers sing scents so sweet,
indulging the mind when we are weak.
Breezes soar invisibly,
hovering, surrounding, playfully,
the freshness of air so crisp and clean,
conveying pictures of nature’s scene.
Grassy cushions so green and lush,
a silky sinking, dreaming of much,
sun returned, its beams pushed forth
the dancing clouds from way up north.
Story Knitting by L. M. Montes
Sew by weaving words,
knitting character, plot, and structure within
the fabric of emotions, habits, conflict,
bringing sparkle, glitz, pizzazz,
warming readers,
striking souls,
with words aplenty
of stories told.
Weather’s War by L. M. Montes
The rising sun kissed the horizon,
peeking shyly above the edge of Earth,
as it climbs in steady gait
beaming arms of light ready themselves
to slice through the day.
Clouds compete,
and waft across the sun,
arresting light till the day is done.
Then in gusts wind blows its breath,
and rescues sun’s beams glory light.
On and on this fight is fought,
until the elements blame and gust,
not caring who below it harms,
as long as all gets what they want.
Whispers by L. M. Montes
A whisper gently tickles,
as one’s words politely trickle,
whether kind or filled with angst,
the mind will sing or sink with pangs
of what it does not want to know.
But do we sit and let it fester
or set it loose on water’s flow?
The Glow by L. M. Montes
At half sunrise and half sunset,
a low light of heaven predawn or preset,
gives pause to one’s thoughts,
of pre-day or pre-night,
reflection abounds and growth is met.
Cherish the moments of heaven’s glow,
when quietude erupts and silence so low,
smile, drink coffee, enjoy the time,
those moments, so precious, do flee,
so day and night can grow.
Beauty by L. M. Montes
What is beauty?
A visual of mountains, streams, and lakes?
Is it a flower?
Those precious colored jewels, our breaths they take?
Is it the ocean waves spilling across the sand?
A sound so smooth and brings us sleep?
Does it come in the form of a sweet scent?
From flowers’ scents to baked pecan rolls, a taste we keep?
What form does it take?
Any form to you and me from Jesus hand for us to see.
WRITE TIME AND AGAIN 