The sound of serenity

The lazy days of summer
are by and by, fading away;
I hear it as the breeze
sashays through the trees.

Wind chimes join the waltz,
each elegant note
sounding the arrival
of crisp fall days ahead.

The sweet serenade
brings inner peace
and infuses my spirit
with the sound of serenity.

© 2021 Michelle Cook


Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/sunset-sun-sky-fields-grass-4329161/

Sometimes a song carries us along

When I couldn’t be there
to lose myself in you,
I knew my favorite song
would have to do.

Sometimes I’d let the words
rush over my skin,
remembering all the places
where we’d once been.

There were countless nights
I could only imagine you here,
and losing you in my life
was my greatest fear.

So I’d take solace
in my favorite song,
hopeful that the words
would carry me along.

Filled with a melody
so I could hold you in my heart,
I believed in earnest
that we’d never part.

© 2021 Michelle Cook


Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/freedom-girl-travel-adventure-4782870/

Autumn anamnesis

As summer turns to fall,
I find I’m missing you.
Your face I can hardly recall,
yet still, I’m missing you.
And when summer at last returns,
I’ll be lost in all my usual concerns,
but once again missing you,
when that first leaf falls.

© 2021 Michelle Cook


Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/maple-leaves-maple-leaves-autumn-690233/

Gridiron greatness

After years of careful collaboration
between architects, artists, and engineers,
the skyline, at last, exploded
in a grand, gridiron fashion.

The smokestacks of the past
all became the skyscrapers of the future.
But, noticeably, nothing ever really changed
except the city’s outer physique.

The conscientious construct
paved the way for future endeavors,
but commercial enterprise
didn’t stand a chance.

Industry rocketed into the future,
but in the end, nobody could hold on.
And we all know the laws of physics
will sadly never change.

© 2021 Michelle Cook


Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/architecture-skyscraper-2256489/

Thank you to my hubby for the writing prompt: Gridiron greatness

*Also, I know he probably expected me to write about football, but sometimes a writer just can’t be swayed. 😉

Our love is simple

He’s learned me
while I’ve memorized him,
and slowly over the years,
the binding of our love story
has mostly stayed intact.

Sure our relationship
is not without its frayed edges,
but we are still bound
by the stubbornest of wills,
refusing to be beaten
by all those little things.

Our love is sincerely simple,
mostly held together
by old remnants of duct tape
and traces of super glue.

© 2021 Michelle Cook


Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/old-book-small-dandelion-faded-2256073/

Redneck Rodeo and Pink posies

I’ve sat here all day,
racking my brain;
with a prompt like this,
I may go insane.

But this is what I’ve been given,
words that will never inspire,
and I’m feeling quite desperate,
might need to conspire.

© 2021 Michelle Cook


Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/wildflower-girl-meadow-pink-1031520/

Writing prompt: Redneck Rodeo and Pink posies

Road radio blues

He’s been thinking
about that one girl,
that pretty little gal
he used to know.

She’d pour his drinks
n work out his kinks
because she loved him so.

Her name was plain ol Mabel,
though, to most,
she was just a fable.

But good boy Johnny,
more skinny than brawny,
he’s never forgotten those eyes.

Once Mabel got started,
there was no departin;
he’d just get lost
in those long-legged thighs.

She was that one girl,
the one who made his head swirl,
always full of surprise.

© 2021 Michelle Cook


Photo credit: https://unsplash.com/photos/IXjuoaUgMZg

Poetry prompt:  I’ve sort of been in a slump lately when it comes to writing and decided to ask my hubby to start giving me daily prompts.  This is day 2… Road radio blues.

Mad morning mayhem

The morning rush
Leaves me dizzy
Cars here n there
Everyone is busy

I just can’t focus
My nerves are shot
I loosen my tie
But still I’m hot

Not even my coffee
Is helping today
My chest is tight
The sky is gray

The air looks thick
So I hold my breath
Wonder if it’ll help
To delay my death

The day drags on
I try to stay awake
But my coffee is cold
No time for a break

I sit up straight
As the boss walks by
And when he’s passed
I cough out a sigh

The clock is ticking
Louder by the minute
There’s one more hour
But I’ve reached my limit

Finally it’s time
Adrenaline fills me up
But now there’s traffic
My shoulders slump

My grip tightens
Patience worn thin
Still in disbelief
Over the jam I’m in

I spy an opening
The sea finally parts
I almost jump for joy
As the cars begin to start

The way at last clear
I feel like I could cry
But I choke back the tears
Though I don’t know why

I at last take my place
In the race against time
Flying through intersections
Like I’m fleeing a crime

There’s one final hurdle
I’ll see home at last
Grateful to leave mayhem
In rear views past

© 2021 Michelle Cook


Photo credit:  https://pixabay.com/photos/traffic-jam-vehicles-highway-auto-3460563/

Poetry prompt:  I’ve sort of been in a slump lately when it comes to writing and decided to ask my hubby to start giving me daily prompts.  This is the first one… Mad morning mayhem.

In a quiet place

I’ve been away
Not had much to say

Been in a quiet place
Inside a forgotten space

Letting my thoughts swirl
While my feet uncurl

Feeling happy and carefree
As I find the inner me

Enjoying a different view
While still holding on to you

© 2021 Michelle Cook


Photo credit:https://pixabay.com/photos/relax-alone-meditate-person-young-569318/

Regarding life

Life can blow in gentle wisps
or suddenly seize the day
in consternation.
So whenever I sense a billowy riff,
I look to the sky for clarification.
Of course, I realize that many storms
pass without peril,
and there is often radiance
after the rain.
But when a particularly vile storm
causes all the flowers to sag,
I know each one understands me.

© 2021 Michelle Cook


Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/sunflower-flowers-plant-helianthus-4339701/

Gibberish gents and dog-eared doohickies

I once spent a tarnished red cent
for a man who was undeniably hell-bent
on being an obnoxious
and gibberish gent.

And I knew for certain
I shouldn’t have wasted my token,
but I felt so sorry
when the man’s doohickey became broken.

To this day, I still wonder
if I’ll ever finally learn
not to let a man’s problems be
of any of my concern.

© 2021 Michelle Cook


Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/girl-woman-depression-3629520/

Writing prompt: Gibberish gents and dog-eared doohickies

The sorcerers staff and the wise child

With firmly shut eyes
and a flick of her wrist,
the incantation rolled easily
off the tip of her tongue.

And as she spoke
those gracious words,
a magical menagerie
of spinning sparks
flickered to life
in pulsating dances
radiating their resplendence
for all the world to see.

It was an unforgettable spectacle
worthy of wonder
which, would ultimately change
the course of time.

© 2021 Michelle Cook


Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/sparkler-firework-celebrate-1835387/

Writing prompt: The sorcerers staff and the wise child