poem

The most valuable gift of all

~ ~M ~ 9 Comments

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Time
each of us holds it from birth.
We’re all entrusted with the same daily allowance
but not all know its value
and some seem to forget its worth.

The foolish tend to use it up
leaving all those leftover seconds
to rot on silver platters
squandering hours away
on useless, selfish desires
believing they’ll always have more
never realizing there is a limit.

And yet the wise
and the perceptive
they protect time with their very lives
savoring every last crumb
knowing it is a measured blessing to be cherished.
They realize time is meant to be held in a way,
which embraces even the tiniest bits of joy.
And those who are discerning
understand the merit of its potential.
For time truly is the most valuable gift of all.

© 2019 Michelle Cook

Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/time-machine-old-school-watch-1450051/

 

Wafts of wintry splendor

~ ~M ~ 5 Comments

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Wafts of wintry splendor
roll across my shoes.
Tickling the tip of my nose
anything to amuse.

I giggle at the exchange
between the natural world and me.
Nothing can ever cheer me up
like the earth and all the wonder I see.

© 2019 Michelle Cook

Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/cold-snow-fashion-woman-girl-1284028/

 

Now the winter shivers

~ ~M ~ 18 Comments

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Now the winter shivers
In this barren land.
Near and far the echoes
Without a welcome hand.

Now the winter clamors
As naysayers pave the way.
The vile commence each battle
What more is there to say.

Dimmer than the most atrocious
On the crowning of darkest night.
Sure-footed soldiers march into battle
Prepared for one more fight.

The world lies in anguish
No longer praying for relief.
Smack dab in the pit of sorrow
Buried in inescapable grief.

© 2019 Michelle Cook

The rhyme and meter of this poem, were inspired by the poetic works of Edna St. Vincent Millay, who wrote “Autumn Chant,” which can be found here.

Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/kz-kz-dachau-konzentrationslager-2063339/

 

Words

~ ~M ~ 16 Comments

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Words
I wrestle with them.
Some are just worth fighting for.

And even one good word can make life worth living — bringing hope to a day, which might otherwise be dark and dismal.

But a bad word can be so disheartening — often reminds me of a rosebud that wilts before it ever has the chance to bloom.

If only our words could always be like rainbows,
we’d never have to feel so gray.

© 2019 Michelle Cook

Apathetic

~ ~M ~ 15 Comments

woman-4617237_1280

I am living,
but I’m not living.
Been lost in a tailspin
of leftovers,
and today
I crashed.
Jumbled pieces of me
lie strewn about.
I don’t know which
to pick up first,
so I do nothing
as usual.

© 2019 Michelle Cook